“No, not dying,” I laughed, “telling Hadley.”

“Well, there’s no getting around that one, Max. It’s going to be bad.”

“But at least I’ll have a chance to reassure her and say everything I need to . . . her as well . . . even if it’s painful.”

Jeremy listened. It was still very cold, but I could tell he was taking it all in.

“Carol told me today, Max, that one way to manage my tough feelings is to practice daily forgiveness.”

“But it’s not your mother’s fault, is it?”

“No, not my mother. I have to forgive myself for being messed up, forgive myself for feeling upset and unable to cope⁠—for not wanting to go through it.”

“Damn, that’s good. I wonder why she hasn’t suggested it for me yet.” I joked, and thought Jeremy was laughing but when I turned saw that he was weeping. It was probably something he’d wanted to do for a long time in the company of another person.

We met several times over the next two weeks, taking turns to bring lunch, usually a sandwich or a bagel or chicken soup. Jeremy helped me prepare to tell Hadley, even offering to come over and sit in the building lobby when I finally broke the news. That’s how close we were getting. It was actually Jeremy who suggested I start keeping this journal⁠—he said it would be good for me to be in the habit of writing again.

When I told Hadley, it went as you might imagine.

I did it in the city, where there would be distractions for when the time came for us to go outside again.

I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t call someone, some of the noises Hadley made. At first, she buried her face in a couch cushion and tore at the fabric with her nails. I sat motionless, watching her contort and writhe as though the illness had left my brain and was now taking control of her body.

Eventually, she got up and went slowly into the bedroom. I followed. It felt as though I had done something wrong. She got under the covers fully clothed. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I sat on the end of the bed and listened to the long, guttural moans⁠—which reminded me of Grendel for some reason.

I think for a while Hadley didn’t know I was in the room, but then she lowered the comforter and said my name several times⁠—heaved it from her chest as if pulling the word through wet stones.

Lying down, I could see that her face was swollen with patches of red, and that tears had dried in the lines around her eyes, leaving a gossamer film.

We stayed like that until the dark came and we could no longer see one another.