But how was I supposed to know that Em was from Canada, in the first place? Em didn’t say where she was from. Em didn’t talk. Em’s declarations—namely, that she was returning to Canada—weren’t spoken. I just missed (or misunderstood) Nora’s translation of Em’s pantomime on the Canadian subject. I’d seen Em do her seagull imitations before, but I didn’t know what she meant. You had to watch her closely; Em’s seagull thing didn’t only mean she was considering going back to Canada.

I think 1973 was a watershed year for me as a writer as well: I was writing more than I had before. I was more of an introvert than ever, because I was consciously trying to live my life in such a way that I could write all the time. Yet, at the same time, 1973 was the year I began to notice more of the world—not to mention the behavior of other people in it. I still don’t know how (or why) this happened. Nora, naturally, had an opinion, and she didn’t hesitate to tell me.

“If you’re looking for a title to your story, it’s called ‘Getting Out of Exeter’—it took you long enough, kiddo,” my cousin told me.