3
ON NORTH HARVARD STREET THE insides of my eyelids make a bright red screen, which reminds me of the way the horizon looked the time we drove up to Wellfleet to the drive-in. There were ten of us in the old station wagon, and I sat on the tailgate as we drove along the dunes road. Over the last tall dune Duck Harbor retreated. Then I felt the sunset on my back, and Sally started jumping up and down in her seat. “Oh, forget the movie. Let’s stay till this ends,” she said. And Bradley responded in his typical nonchalant way, “But it never ends. You can’t see it, but it never ends.” We saw a sheet of red stretched out across Cape Cod Bay, as if the mainland were ablaze.
“Now, what’s happening here?” Hannah says.
We’re in a slow-moving line of traffic coming up to the Larz Anderson Bridge.
