“I’d get over it,” I said. “So would Sally. New husband, new country, two new kids—she wouldn’t have time to be devastated about anybody. Norris, I could go visit her once in a while, that’d be fine, I’d love it. But I can’t live there, Norris, I just can’t, why can’t I stay with you in the guest room?” I’m writing it all down, just the way it was, as fast as I can, so maybe I won’t be too ashamed. But I might just cut it out later on.

Norris ran a hand through his own hair and then squeezed his hands together. He said, “Jennifer, I don’t know how to say this. I’m not in a very good place right now for having anybody living with me. It’s not just you, it’s anybody. I’m coming off a bad relationship—you remember Mandy?—and I guess I need some privacy, time to be by myself, time to think through a lot of stuff—”

I interrupted him. “I’d be in school most of the time, you wouldn’t even know I was there.” I wasn’t going to beg anymore, I wasn’t going to say another word, but it came out anyway. Norris didn’t hear me. He went right on. “Besides, going to England would be the best thing in the world for you. Trust me on this one, kid. I know how incredibly dumb this sounds, but someday you really will thank me. Really.”

Well, that was pretty much it, there’s no point in writing anything else about it. Norris said it was my turn to choose a restaurant, so just out of spite I picked a Russian place, way down in the Village and so fancy it looked like a crack house from outside. Before we went, Norris asked me, very shy and sweet, if I’d mind if somebody joined us for dinner, because if I would mind, that’d be fine. Her name was Suzanne, and I think she did something on the public radio.