“We’re lucky to be here, aren’t we?” I say to Hilbert, as I pass.

“Lucky, yes,” he says. “It seems that way today.”

“What’s that, Hilbert? It seems what way?” Shelley asks.

There’s an edge to her question that pricks me like the sharp quill of a feather. From the doorway, I hear Hilbert’s response.

“I didn’t mean anything,” he says. “I’m just happy Penny’s here.”

I let go of Jack’s arm as we walk along the hall to my room.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I know the way.”

“And your knee?”

“It still works,” I say. “For now.”

We pass the window facing the dense forest. We stop for a moment, standing side by side. There are so many tall, indistinguishable trees out there, too many to count. I try looking at one tree in particular, focusing intently, until I forget what I’m looking at.

“I liked what you were saying in there, about feeling your own weight,” he says, breaking the spell. “I think you and I have a few things in common.”

“Is that right?”

The sound of Shelley’s footsteps down the hall cause Jack to stop what he’s saying. He waits until we hear a door close.

“I was in art school once,” he says, his voice softer now, quieter, as if it’s a secret.

“You studied art?”

“At college. Only for a year. Feels like another life.”

“Why only a year?”

“It didn’t work out,” he says.

“Why?”

“I wasn’t ready for it,” he says. “I made some mistakes. Flunked out. I always thought I would be a professional artist. That was going to be my identity. But now I’m here. Working at a place like…”

He stops himself from finishing his thought.

A place like this?

“Don’t you like it here?” I ask.

“It’s a good place to be. It’s just not what a young Jack saw himself doing, that’s all.”

He is still young, I think. I turn away from the window first and start walking again. Jack follows.

“Well,” I say. “I never studied art at all. Not formally. So you have a leg up on me. A good leg, not an old, arthritic one like mine.”

We reach my room with the red door. It now has Penny written on a little hanging sign. That’s new. We walk in, and I sit down in my chair.

“For the last few years at my apartment, I felt like I’d missed my chance. That everything was done. No more experiences. No more challenges. No new relationships. It’s a scary feeling when it’s all over. Especially when you’re alone.”

I’m trying desperately to hold it in, but Jack realizes my eyes are welling up.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Don’t apologize,” he says.

I take a moment to compose myself.

“What is it?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s exactly it. Nothing’s wrong here. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s really nice.”

I remove a balled-up tissue from the sleeve of my sweater, blow my nose.