Carmen sits up on the edge of the bed, realizing that she had fallen asleep holding Kierk’s notebook. She feels it had become incorporeal and seeped into her psyche like a perverted inside-out dream catcher—there had been enigmatic hints like This time I must swim out further, swim so far that the choice to return to shore is no longer viable, or Twenty-seven is the year in which I must either bloom or wilt, for this stasis has become monstrously unstable, and other things of that sort. It was almost as if these thoughts had summoned the dream to her, like words on the subject of consciousness spoken in the right order could conjure something from another realm.

She calls him again, for what must be the twentieth time.

“The person you are calling has a voicemail box that has not been set up.”

Carmen is in a holding pattern designed to strip away the hours. She’s feeling calmer now that she’s gotten breakfast and taken it back to her hotel room. But all morning the absence of Kierk has been popping into her head, a question mark floating over her.

She spends an hour convincing AT&T to put a trap on her phone, so that if that . . . voice calls her again, she can get the number. Feeling slightly more secure now that an action has been taken, she dials her mom.

At the happy exclamation of her mother as she answers the phone Carmen almost breaks down and weeps. She’s so close to telling her everything, but she can imagine the immense worry that her mother would have, and her ineffectiveness, fear, and lack of understanding. Instead Carmen just wants to have a normal conversation, to experience the totally safe and standard world her mom inhabits. They end up chatting for an hour about the most mundane topics Carmen can guide them to.

Eventually she’s saying—“The Crick program is going really well for me. I’ve met . . . some interesting people. Some great people.”

“Any of these ‘great people’ men who happen to be in the program with you? You know, someone who shares your interests. Because that’s always been a problem with you, honey. You have such abstract interests. Very high-minded.”

Carmen sighs. “Yes, Mom, there are also men in the program.”

“You know what I meant. Don’t paint me like I’m so obvious.”

“I know what you meant, yes. I’ll have to let you know, Mom.”

“You can’t blame me for asking. I’m just asking.”

“I know, Mom.”

“So you did meet someone then?”

“God, Mom, I don’t know, okay. I’m trying to figure some things out. Some important things.”

“Are you mad at me? Again? Just my asking how you are is enough to make you mad now?!”