"I guess."

"So. Have you made a decision? What we talked about? The isolation thing?"

Janie sets her fork down. "About that," she says, a concerned look on her face. "I, uh . . ."

Captain looks Janie in the eye. Says nothing.

"I was going to. I mean, I made a decision." Janie's having a terrible time saying it.

Captain's gaze doesn't waver.

"And turns out, it's not going to work out after all."

Captain leans forward. "Tell me," she says quietly, but it has an edge to it. "Come on."

Janie is confused. "What?"

"Say it. For Chrissakes, do it. Share something that goes on in that mysterious brain of yours. You don't always have to hold everything in. I'm a good listener. Really."

"What?" Janie says again, still puzzled. "I justa""

Captain nods encouragingly.

"Okay, I just pretty much found out that Martha Stubin had it wrong. My choices are differenta"either I become like her, or I become like him. My dad. He isolated. And his brain exploded."

Captain raises an eyebrow. "Exploded. Medical term?"

Janie laughs. "Not really."

"What else?" Captain's voice loses the edge.

"Well, so I think I'll just live at home, then. And, I guess, go to school as planned. I mean, it's a toss-upa"blind and crippled in my twenties, dead from a brain explosion in my late thirties. What would you choose? I guess, because I have Cabe, I'll choose blind and crippled. If he can deal with it, that is." Janie remembers his dreams.

"Does he know any of this? Any of it at all?"

"Er . . . no."

"You know what I always say, right?"

"Talk to him. Yeah, I know."

"So do it, then!"

"Okay, okay." Janie grins.

"And once things settle down after your terrible week, and you get to feeling good about school, because you will, we'll talk about you and your job. Okay?"

"Okay." Janie sighs. It's such a relief.

They pack up the remains of the lunch.

"Before you go," Captain says, rolling her chair over to the filing cabinet and opening the middle drawer, "here's somethinga"if it's not helpful to you, just toss it. I won't be offended." She pulls an orange photocopied paper from a file, folds it, and hands it to Janie. Stands and walks Janie to the door. "And if you ever want to talk about that, you know where to find me. Family. Don't forget."

"Okay." Janie takes the paper and smiles. "Thanks for lunch. And everything." She stands and heads for the door.

"You're welcome. Now stop bothering me." She smiles and watches Janie go.

"Yesss," Janie says as she runs up the steps to the street level. One hard conversation over. Goes outside and walks to the bus stop. She opens up the orange paper and squints, reading it.

After a moment, she folds it again slowly, thoughtfully, and puts it in her pocket.

1:43 p.m.

She takes the bus to her neighborhood stop. n.o.body dreaming this afternoon.

Walks to Cabel's.

He's painting the garage door now.

Janie stands in the gra.s.s at the side of the driveway and watches him.

Thinks about all the things that have happened in the past days. The whole journey she's been on. The lows, and the lowers.

She thought she'd have to say good-bye.

Forever.

And now, she doesn't.

It should feel so good.

But there's still the matter of his dreams.

She clears her throat.

Cabel doesn't turn around. "You're quiet," he says. "Wasn't sure how long you were going to stand there."

She bites her lip.

Shoves her hands in her pockets.

He turns. Has paint on his cheek. Eyes soft and crinkly. "What's up? You okay?"

Janie stands there.

Tries to stop the quivering.

He sees it. Sets down his brush.

Goes to her. "Oh, baby," he says. Pulls her close. Holds. "What is it?"

Strokes her hair while she sobs in his shirt.

2:15 p.m.

In the gra.s.s, under the shade tree in the backyard. They talk.

About his nightmares And her future For a very, very long time.

4:29 p.m.

It's all so complicated.

It always is, with Janie.

It's impossible for Janie to know what will happen, no matter how hard she tries to figure it out. No matter how much Cabe convinces Janie that he had no idea he was having such disturbing dreams, and admits that maybe he is scared. But also that he really is dealing with thingsa"he really is.

No matter how much they both promise to keep talking when s.h.i.t like this comes up. Because it always will.

There's just no happily ever after in Janie's book.

But they both know there is something. Something good between them.

There is respect.

And there is depth.

Unselfishness.

An understanding between them that surpa.s.ses a h.e.l.l of a lot else.

And there's that love thing.

So they decide. They decide to decide each day what things will come.

No commitments. No big plans. Just life, each day.

Making progress. Cutting the pressure.

There's enough d.a.m.n pressure everywhere else.

And if it works, it works.

She knows one thing, deep down.

Knows it hard. And good.

He's the only guy she'll ever tell.

IT IS WHAT IT IS.

5:25 p.m. Still the last day.

"Hey, can you drive me somewhere tonight?" Her cheeks are flushed. And she has a G.o.dd.a.m.ned hickey. You do the math.

"Sure. Where?"

"Place out on North Maple."

Cabel tilts his head curiously but doesn't ask.

Knows she won't tell him anyway.

Smiles to himself and shakes his head a little as he goes to the stove to make dinner. "G.o.d, I freaking love you," he mutters.

6:56 p.m.

Cabel pulls up to the building. Janie peers out the window and then checks the orange paper. "Yep, this is it." She's nervous. Not sure about this. "Can you just hang out here for about five minutes in case, you know, this isn't cool?"

"Sure, sweets. If I'm gone when you come out, just text me. I'll come right back." He gives Janie a rea.s.suring squeeze on her thigh and kiss on the cheek. "I'll probably just head down to one of the bookstores around here. Maybe drive through campus and take a walk around."

"Okay." Janie takes a deep breath and gets out of the car. "See you." She walks, determined, to the door. Doesn't look back. Doesn't see Cabel pick up the orange paper from the seat where she left it. He reads it. Smiles.

7:01 p.m.

A dozen people mill around the room, getting coffee and chatting. Mostly adults, but a couple of people who look to be about Janie's age. Janie steps into the room, feeling awkward, not sure where to stand. Slowly she backs up to a wall and just looks around, a fake smile on her face, trying not to make eye contact.

"Welcome," says a stocky, middle-aged man as he walks up to Janie. "My name is Luciano." He holds out his hand.

Janie takes it. Shakes it. "Hi," she says.

"Glad you came. Have you been to Al-Anon before?"

"Noa"this is my first time."

"Don't worry. We all have something in common. Let me get this thing started." Luciano turns to the room and calls out for everyone to grab a seat at the table. Janie makes her way, and a young man offers Janie some coffee. Janie smiles gratefully and accepts, adding her traditional three creams, three sugars.

The small group quiets down and Luciano speaks. "Welcome to Al-Anon. For those who are new here, this is a support group for people who are dealing with the effects of an alcoholic on your life." He looks at the young man across the table. "Carl, would you like to lead today's meeting?"

Janie listens intently to the introduction and testimonial from a woman at the table who talks about her alcoholic, abusive father. After that, Carl leads a discussion about one of the twelve steps.

It feels good to know she's not alone.

And that Dorothea's drinking isn't Janie's fault.

When it is over, Janie takes some literature from the racks. She slips out of the room, texting Cabe that she's ready, and she goes outside into the cool evening. Thinking. Realizing a ton of stuff about her mother. And feeling, for the first time, that part of the stress of her life, part of the responsibility, has been taken away. It feels fabulous, actually.

Wonders why she never thought about doing this before.