“Thriving. There’s a bunch of other dogs along for the ride, so there’s a nice kennel space. Spike’s getting pretty sociable. There’s an eighty-pound shepherd bitch who seems to have caught his fancy.”

“Does the kennel space include a ladder for him to reach her?”

She laughed, but sounded tired. “So . . .”

I said, “So are you getting in any social time?”

“I’m working, Alex. We’re putting in twelve-, thirteen-hour days.”

“Sounds tough. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too. We both knew this would be difficult.”

“Then we were both right.”

“Honey—hold on, Alex . . . someone just stuck their head in.” Her voice got muffled and distant; hand over the phone. “I’ll see what I can do, give me a little time on it, okay? When’s sound-check? That soon? Okay, sure.” Back to me: “As you can see I haven’t had much solitude.”

“I’ve had plenty.”

“I’m jealous.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” she said. “We both like our solitude, right?”

“You can have yours back anytime.”

“I can’t exactly walk out on everyone.”

“No,” I said. “As Richard Nixon said, that would be wrong.”

“I mean I—if there was some easy—if that would really make you happy, I’d do it.”

“It would ruin your reputation.”

“It sure wouldn’t help it.”

“You’re committed,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.” Why the hell is Sheridan so happy?

“Alex, when I do get a minute to breathe, I think of you, wonder if I did the right thing. Then I plan all the things I’m going to tell you, but then when we finally talk . . . it doesn’t seem to go the way I’d planned.”

“Absence makes the heart cranky?”

“Not my heart.”

“Guess it’s me, then,” I said. “Guess I don’t do well with separation. Never got used to it.”

“Used to it?” she said. “Your parents?”

My parents were the last thing I’d thought of. Now bad old memories ignited: the wasting away of the two people who’d brought me into this world, bedside vigils, a pair of funerals in as many years.

“Alex?”

“No,” I said. “I was just talking generally.”

“You sound upset,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“What did you mean by that? Never getting used to separation?”

“Random blather,” I said.

“Are you saying that even when we were together you felt abandoned? That I neglected you? Because I—”

“No,” I said. “You’ve always been there for me.” Except for the other time you left.

Except for finding another man and—“It really was blather, Rob. Put it down to missing you.”

“Alex, if this is really bad for you, I’ll come home.”

“No,” I said. “I’m a big boy. It wouldn’t be good for you. For either of us.”