I said that he could watch Viridian take her blood pressure and make sure she was doing it right, make sure the readings weren’t too high. Or too low. “It might not happen again,” I said, and Oscar said, Right, and then we were both quiet, not really believing it.

Finally, I said, “About Boone. Did he tell you—”

“About his book idea. Yeah.” We were keeping our voices low, not because there was any real chance of Viridian overhearing us, but I suppose because we felt furtive about the whole topic. “She’s never going to write it.”

“I think he knows that. I think he wants somebody else to put it together, a ghostwriter.”

“And I’m thinking it’s just a new way to pry those Mathias poems loose. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was really Doug’s idea. He could make a big deal out of the poems. A new chapter in American letters, etcetera. Print a book excerpt, essays, critiques. Run a special issue, get a lot of expensive attention from foundations and donors. Do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Because the world really ought to see those poems.”

“So you think it’s a good idea. You think we should try to help them.”

“Only if it would help Virdie,” Oscar said.

We were quiet again. We weren’t sure anymore just what kind of help Viridian might need. I wondered now if it was love or spite that made her keep Mathias’s poems for herself.

Oscar roused himself. “How’s that boyfriend of yours? You should bring him around once in a while.”

I said that I would. I hadn’t told any of them about our quarrel.

In fact, I’d seen Aaron the night before, and we’d wound up in bed, which, if you asked other people about their breakups, a lot of them would admit to having done the same. But it left us more confused than ever. When we tried to talk things through, both before and afterward, we stumbled and didn’t say much. I couldn’t say what I wanted him to do, except want me back, and I couldn’t tell if he did or not. Sex, of course, not counting. I didn’t think he was trying very hard. “You should do whatever you want,” he’d said, which didn’t sound like a man who was going to fight to the death to recover my favor.

“Do you like Boone?” I asked Oscar. “Or maybe a better question, do you trust him?”