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?”

I remembered the rows of beautiful houses in her neighborhood. The type of town that needed large houses for large families. Families that weren’t fractured into pieces. Cambridge was not much better, if I was being honest with myself. The houses were smaller though, and somehow, I had equated that with more broken families like my own. She must be the type of person who grew up in a place where everyone had their parents shuttling them to all their after-school activities, helping them build up their résumés. How else could she ask about my parents so casually?

“They’re not in the picture anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I asked.” There was a particularly loud thump from her end. I imagined her in a gym, sitting on a bleacher, observing volleyball practice.

“It’s alright. I don’t really think about them.”

“So what are you going to do the rest of your day?”

“It’s grandmother’s birthday,” I said. “So we’ll eat roast beef sandwiches. And I’ll email the registrar.” And hope grandmother doesn’t have any lapses like she did the day before. I longed for the birthday I had imagined a week ago—a trip to her favorite restaurant, a reunion with a long-lost cousin. The rest of the day seemed suddenly very bleak in comparison.