I biked all morning, out to the suburbs, along the river and the shaded path. I felt light for the first time since I came home. Like things would be okay as long as I remembered to take moments like this, to feel the wind, to keep moving toward a destination. I received some skeptical looks going through the Arby’s drive-through on my bike, but even those felt more amusing than embarrassing.

It was almost noon by the time I made it back to our neighborhood. The early morning chill had faded, and after the long ride, I was sweating and tired. I parked outside the café grandfather used to stop at for coffee on his way to work. I wondered if the café would remember this scene: this bike, parked temporarily out front, waiting for its owner. I sat on the bench to cool off before going home. Cambridge, without its students, was quiet. I pulled out my phone and read Louise’s messages again.

With my head clear, thanks to the ride, I clicked on her name. I mentally gathered a few things to talk about, a few backup points—about the weather and school starting, just in case.

can I call you?

I only had to sit on the bench for a minute before she replied.

of course!

I hit the phone icon.

“Hey!” She picked up on the second ring.

“Hi.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “Thanks for taking the time to talk.”

“Oh, no problem.” In her background, there were faint noises of people chatting and vague thuds. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” I admitted. I watched an ant crawl around the perimeter of my shoe. “But I’m feeling better. I got out of the house for a bit, and it felt good.”

“I’m glad you had that at least.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your messages earlier,” I said quickly. “I think—I think I was mad that you were trying to tell me what to do. But you were trying to help. So thank you.”

She laughed. “Please tell me if I’m being a pain. But I do mean it. Having someone to talk to can really change your perspective on things. That’s what I’ve learned from my therapist.”

She was so open in a way that, I now realize, frightened me.

“So you’re really not going back to school?” she asked. There was genuine disappointment in her voice.

“No. I want to be here for them.” I made more room for the ant by bringing my feet under the bench. “Her condition is going to get worse, and grandfather is the only one around to take care of her, and he’s not young either.”

“What about your parents?”