“HOW ABOUT AN EARLY dinner?” I say as we leave the hospital.
“Sounds good, then I’ll need to go home to get ready for tonight,” she says.
“Tonight?” I ask. “What’s tonight?”
Helen looks at me quizzically. “Oh, Tom, you know what tonight is.”
I rush through all the important dates in our lives together—both recent and past—in my mind and come up empty. “No. Should I?”
“I’m teaching that self-defense course to the Ladies of Charity tonight. And you’re supposed to act as my attacker. Remember now?”
“Oh, dear Lord,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You mean you’re actually doing that?”
“Of course I am, Tom,” she says, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “And you volunteered to help me.”
“I don’t remember volunteering,” I say. “My memory is that Anna looked at me and said, ‘You’ll help her, wo
