“You had me scared a little at first,” Marshall said as they made their way upstairs, “but you’re all right, Phil. Come sit in with me again sometime.”

Margaret took Marshall aside, thanked him for giving Phil a break and revved him up about his performance. After that she got Phil, and they went downstairs.

“You did great,” she said.

“Thanks. I almost chucked the whole lot in the beginning though,” he replied.

“But you really turned it on in the end, Phil. And it really moved me when you said you loved me in front of everyone.”

“But I do.”

They stopped at the foot of the stairs and kissed.

“Don’t mess up my new suit,” Phil said, “it was hard enough straightening it out after you raped me before I went on.”

“Wrong. Rape is a crime of violence. That was love.”

They went outside to catch a cab. It was freezing and windy. They huddled together in their coats.

Outside, they ran into Sylvia and Lewis, who saw Margaret too late to turn away. She came up to him and said hello, kissing his cheek as a casual greeting.

“This is Phil,” Margaret said to Lewis.

“Nice to meet you, Phil,” Lewis replied. “And this is Sylvia.”

Phil shook her hand firmly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sylvia,” Margaret said. “I’m forgetting my manners. I forgot to introduce you … but I didn’t recognize you at first. You look different. Have you gained weight?”

“My hair has grown.”

She ran her fingers through it, admitting to herself that this was all quite petty, this need to make it clear it wasn’t a weave. The lights of the traffic glinted off the ring.

“Congratulations to the both of you,” Margaret said, drawing Phil closer. “When’s the big day?”

“We’re working on it,” Lewis replied. “Next spring. No firm date yet.”

As Lewis and Margaret talked about weddings and marriage Phil and Sylvia stood silently.

I’m not jealous, Sylvia thought as she listened to Lewis and Margaret. I’m just doing what any normal person would do. They used to fuck! They know that I know this. So why is she standing so close to him? And why did she have to kiss him? Whatever happened to shaking hands? And this moron she is with, why is he looking at me like that? As if he is afraid of saying something.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Phil said, “what’s your last name?”

Sylvia told him.

He lowered his voice. “I know the connection.”

So did she now. The accent. The pitch.

“Nice to meet you, finally,” she said quietly, masking her distress.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied.

They flashed each other embarrassed grins.

Panicked, Sylvia excused herself from Phil, turned to Lewis, and told him she was cold.

Sylvia felt as though a giant fist were gripping her chest. She could hardly breathe. Fucking Phil recognized her. She had done a good job of appearing blasé, she thought. But then she hadn’t seen her face.