I did not take the compass from any house or from anyone. It was a gift, though gift status does not justify keeping a thing. Need can, if the need is true. I wish I didn’t need my compass. I wish I had a sense of true north anywhere in me. I can walk forward alone and never be scared; it’s going back to each house that gets me lost, every time. I can’t ever find my way home. That’s what I get for being born rootless.

At eleven-fifty-three I walked quietly into the house, relieved Francine was still up, so I didn’t wake her.

“Was it wonderful?” she asked, Terry Johnson snoozing beside her, bathed in Christmas-tree light and, in a welcome break from Christmas music, the TV light from Antiques Roadshow.

“It was,” I said, a little more obviously indicative than I’d intended, and sat beside her to pet the sleeping cinnamon roll.

“I’m glad,” she said. Then she turned down the TV volume. “Do you have everything you need?”

“For what?”

“You know.” She nodded. “For dating.”

“For…oh.”

“Sorry, I know, but it’s my job, I have to—”

“Yeah, yeah, of course—”

“Because if there’s a particular brand or something—”

“Francine!” I could not help it, I laughed, and Terry Johnson got up and left.

“This is serious,” she said. “Just tell me and I’ll buy them.”

“Oh my God, okay, thank you, moving on…”

“Muiriel.”

“Yes, I know.” I collected myself and coaxed Terry Johnson back up to my lap. “Believe me. I’m very detail-oriented and obsessed with securing my eminent exodus, and I’m not going to TMI you here, but trust me. I have what I need.”

“And he’s also—”

“Oh, Francine, I am not good with actual conversations or human emotions. Can we please use hand puppets to talk about this?”

“You think it’s a picnic for me? Good Lord, the one thing you don’t act like a sixty-year-old woman about. Here, put this pillow on your face and just say yes or no. First, do not use off-brand condoms. Do you have good, expensive ones, and would you like me to go to Costco and just leave a box in the bathroom for you?”

I could not believe this conversation was happening.

But I was also kind of relieved it was happening.

“Yes and yes,” I said, muffled, from behind the pillow stuffed in my face.

She paused. “Wait, yes to what?”

“Please go to Costco!”

“Okay, great, good, see? This is progress! Now, are you on the pill, or do you want to be?”

“No. Maybe? Is it expensive?”

“Not necessarily, we can look at your insurance and what you might have on your own later, and we’ll figure it out. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. Right, like I’ll be able to afford health insurance. Good one.

“Okay.”

“Can we be done with this now?”