They are walking up the stairs to the building now, stomping their feet with every step. “It gives you something to look forward to.”

“It’s not sexy. It’s not passionate. It’s not romantic.”

“I’m sorry if I don’t like to have sex every time there’s a thunderstorm.”

He holds open the door, waves her through with irritation. “Thunderstorm sex is the best!”

A few students glance at them.

She marches down the nearest hall and he says, “You’re going the wrong way.” He points in the opposite direction. “It’s this way.”

“Then lead.”

“You’re not giving me the chance to.”

They don’t talk for a minute, but their feet batter the floor. He trades the duffel from one hand to the other and then back again, starting to breathe heavy from the strain. They pass door after door after door, all of them the same except for their numbers and placards. They turn a corner, and then another, and she loses all sense of direction. The building seems endless. Finally, he stops. He drops the duffel to the floor, catches his breath, and sets his hands on his hips. Clearly he’s been formulating some sort of response. “You know that saying?”

“What saying?”

“About mirrors?”

“What saying about mirrors? Stop being so weird. Why are you always talking like somebody can see inside your head?”

“It was from a philosophy class I took in college. Something about how when you’re looking in the mirror, you’re looking at a younger man. Because of the time lag of the reflection itself, no matter how minute. You’re looking at a younger man. You’re looking at the past when you’re looking at yourself.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“I keep looking at us.” His hand flaps back and forth in the air between them. “And seeing us in the mirror. And the mirror is cracked.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“I’m going to try to stop looking at us that way. I think you should too. I think we’ll get along a lot better. Let’s just pretend there’s no past.”

“Pretend there’s no past?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“Well, that’s not what I meant. I’m not going to pretend we never had a daughter. I’m not going to pretend there’s no such thing as Mia.”

He can’t help but flinch. “No. No, I don’t mean that. Of course I don’t mean that. I just mean . . . all the shit, all the baggage. Let’s forget that for the moment and just focus on the future.”

“Okay.”

His eyebrows pop up. “Okay? You’re okay with that?”

“I am completely okay with that. Let’s concentrate on figuring out what to do with this time. Not the last time.”