Summer passed quietly. I worked and read and learned to live alone, and I discovered things about myself that I hadn't known before. I liked the mornings. I liked the way the light came through the east window and made patterns on the floor. I liked the silence. I liked the freedom of not having to explain myself to anyone.
I saw Marisol once, in July, at a farmers market downtown. She was buying peaches, and she looked up and saw me, and for a moment we just stood there, two people who had been friends for years and were now almost strangers, holding paper bags and looking at each other across a row of vegetables.
"Lila," she said. "Hi."
"Hi."
"You look good."
"So do you."
She bit her lip. "Can we talk?"
We sat on a bench in the shade, and she told me that Evan had told her what I'
