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thought, but it couldn’t be true of her. “Maybe I’ll see you again.” He moved away into the shadows before any of them could speak.
    Patti let out her breath. “Who would have thought Tad Braun would turn into such a hunk? I wonder what he’s doing now.”
    “I barely remember him,” Louise said. “Wasn’t he that awful boy who we—”
    Jacqueline did not want to remember. “We were pretty cruel to him, weren’t we? But we were cruel to a lot of kids when they didn’t meet our standards.”
    Dena’s dark eyes widened. “Oh, come on. That was a long time ago. Nobody remembers things like that.”
    “The victimizers probably don’t,” Jacqueline said. “The victims do.”
    The night air was colder. The four walked back into the empty room and settled around the coffee table. The shrimp and raw vegetables were nearly gone; Jacqueline stubbed out her cigarette as Patti lit a joint.
    “Maybe we should have asked him up,” Louise said. “Of course, I have to be careful about the guys I see.”
    “Herpes,” Patti muttered.
    “No, visitation rights. I wouldn’t put it past my goddamn ex to use any excuse to cut them back. I see Chris little enough as it is.”
    “He has custody?” Jacqueline asked, surprised.
    Louise’s mouth twisted. “I guess you professors don’t read People regularly. I needed the settlement, and if I’d fought for Chris, I might have gotten much less.”
    Jacqueline said nothing. “Look, I couldn’t have raised him without a good settlement. You need at least thirty thousand a year here just to stay off the streets. And just try to go up against one of the NFL’s former golden boys in court.” Louise poured more wine. “Bob’s been born again, you know. I suppose he’ll marry that Baptist bimbo he’s been going to Bible study with.” The blonde woman glanced at Dena. “Well, there’s nothing to stop you from seeing old Tad.”
    “There’s Sadegh,” Dena replied, “but I don’t know how long that’ll last. I’m too old for him—he’s forty-two and I’m thirty-six. Trouble is, he likes eighteen-year-olds.”
    “And I’m an old married lady trying to get pregnant.” Patti took another toke on her joint. “Guess I should give this up. I don’t even know if I really want a kid, but Joe does. Anyway, what else can I do?”
    “Jackie could ask Tad over for a drink,” Louise said.
    “I’m living with somebody.”
    “Yeah, but he’s three thousand miles away.”
    Patti propped her elbows on the table. “You told me it was no strings with you and Jerome.”
    No strings, Jacqueline thought. She had fashioned the strings and turned them into cords. Except for a brief trip to Chicago for a classics conference, she had not even been on a plane without Jerome until now. She could not even tell if she still loved him or was only afraid of being alone.
    Lately he made her feel old. Neither of them even went through the motions of trying to find positions at a better school. They had their tenure, published enough to keep up the reputation of scholarship, and revised lectures each of them had given several times before. Each year, they were confronted by a sea of ever-younger faces. At night, suspended in the moment between consciousness and sleep, Jacqueline often imagined that she was suddenly an old woman, that the years had flown by and had left her ill and weak with no one to tend her, no one to care what became of her.
    “I can’t imagine why Tad Braun would want to see any of us.” Jacqueline looked around at the pretty, ageless faces of the other three women, certain that they would not understand what she was about to say. “Tad was a gentle, sensitive boy, but we didn’t care about that, couldn’t see it. Now, at least, his beauty reflects the truth about what he was inside.”
    Patti finished her joint; the others were silent.
    “Well,” Patti said after a moment, “I’ve got an early day tomorrow. Listen, why don’t you all come to the