She’d watched Hongmei leave Glen’s side, turning back to read a flyer on the floor. It was for subletting a house, the cheap rent scrawled across the front in Sharpie, circled in scarlet. Hongmei’s white tennis shoe had landed on the flyer and twisted it so the words faced her, then she’d reached for a bottle of peanut oil, revealing the BCG vaccine scar on her arm. The secret talker said this scar had made her feel confused. Or let’s be honest: it had filled her with desire.

Sounding unashamed, the secret talker revealed that she’d stood there for a long time, trying to hide her useless appearance.

She watched Glen’s arm go around Hongmei’s body, his fingers sliding numbly across the scar. She imagined Hongmei at age six or seven, standing among the other children, one sleeve rolled up. The secret talker had followed behind Hongmei, watching Glen with his arm still around her walking toward a food sample stand. She thought of a village girl at the age of seven, her hair pulled into thin pigtails as dry as withered grass, slowly moving her bare little feet to keep up with the rest of the kids, her face as unknowing as those around her, ready for the slaughter. She said she’d had a strong emotional response, wanting to touch that scar—from childhood to adulthood, the only thing that didn’t change, preserving its unusual sensitivity.

She said she was sure Hongmei had actually memorized the price mentioned on the flyer. She’d stumbled upon a secret longing.

Or maybe in that instant you had a sudden urge to have a nest of your own. Who knows? No one can ever be fully aware of how many plans are sprouting in the darkness at the bottom of their heart. Then some outside event suddenly happens, abruptly illuminating those pitch-dark schemes. As for exactly what it is—separation, divorce, or an affair—you aren’t sure. But the scheme has a beginning. Then you walked back to your husband, nestling against him like a baby bird.

She said at the sample counter Glen had been joking loudly. Like many Americans, he often used humor to alleviate the pressure that silence brings, averting a conversational crisis. Hongmei had laughed, but it had been apparent that inside it was all Hongmei could do to endure this. Even she had seen it, the cold reprimand in Hongmei’s mouth.