“Delta, you shouldn’t have.” Amelia took the dry cleaning from my hand and hung it in the hall closet. The colors of her mustard-green blouse and kelly-green pants were disconcertingly off and clashing. Her foundation was not applied evenly and visibly caked on her forehead. She was losing the polish that created distance between her and the rest of the world. I was conflicted, because I’d always wanted to bridge that distance. But I was also mildly disappointed that she looked ordinary. More concerning, however, was her exposure in front of Lucia. I didn’t want her to let down her guard in front of this woman who wasn’t her friend.

Lucia approached closer to the front door. Itzhak trailed behind her, wagging his tail.

“Lucia, do you remember our friend, Delta?”

“Yes.” She looked through me, avoiding eye contact. Fortunately, it appeared that Lucia did not want to acknowledge our previous interaction either.

“The date is fast approaching.” I hadn’t expected that I’d ever see Lucia in person again. The sight of her was hard to take.

Amelia motioned us down the hall and to the dining table. I sat down across from Lucia.

“What a lovely sunset.” I chose to concentrate on the brilliant pink sky through the glass doors until I got my bearings.

Amelia poured wine for me and sparkling water for Lucia. Over the last few months, I’d developed a distaste for inferior wine. Cheap wine made me view myself in a certain light, as belonging to a certain socioeconomic class. So I was astonished, frankly, when I saw Amelia with an eight-dollar bottle of wine in her hand. Perhaps someone had given her the bottle and she hadn’t paid attention to the label.

Amelia sat down next to me and across from Lucia. “Lucia and I … we’re discussing some of the options she has,” Amelia said in a careful and controlled tone of voice. “We’ve had a few conversations over the past week, just talking it all through.”

I patted Itzhak, who had sidled up next to me. The dog provided me with a welcome point of focus.

“But I’ve decided already.… I’m not still deciding,” Lucia said. “Ron wants to be with me and the baby. I came here because I thought I should apologize, because I’m sorry I said yes before.” Lucia clearly felt guilty. She was rambling, but she wasn’t confused.

I had that same sensation of lightness and buoyancy again. Two pictures of Ron alternated in my brain: 1.) a shifty slacker who operated just barely inside the law; 2.) an ambitious and outwardly respectable guy who didn’t want to get strapped with a wife and baby, both of whom would limit his future prospects.

No matter his profile, my photograph of Lucia had succeeded in exerting power over him.

“I’m very sorry.” Lucia looked down at the ground.