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worried about you.”
    “Tell him I’m fine. He didn’t change his mind about the dig, did he?” she asked with a hopeful look, and Amy shook her head. He was leaving, as planned, just concerned about her, but not enough to take her with him or to stay. It was over. Amy was convinced, and Brigitte was too.
    They sat in Brigitte’s living room for a while, and then Amy had to go back to work. She suggested that Brigitte come to her house during the weekend, and Brigitte said she was going to try and work on her book. And for the rest of the afternoon, she just sat and stared into space, trying to absorb everything that had happened to her. Noman. No job. It was a lot to take in all at once, and on Saturday, after hesitating for a full minute, she answered the phone when her mother called. Ted hadn’t called her, or texted her again since the day after their Valentine’s Day dinner. He was entirely willing to let her go and cut off communication. It was easier for him than dealing with how upset she was. He hated crying women. He always said they reminded him of his mother. He was allergic to guilt and blame, and being made to feel like the bad guy. So he disappeared. It seemed cowardly to her.
    Her mother was startled when she heard her daughter. “You sound awful. Are you sick?” She was instantly worried. Brigitte was her only child.
    “I … no … yes … well, sort of. I’m not feeling great.”
    “What do you have, darling? A flu or a cold?” Actually neither, a broken heart.
    “Maybe a little of both,” Brigitte said vaguely, wondering how to tell her what had happened that week. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
    “How’s Ted? Anything new?” Brigitte’s mother always acted as though she expected him to propose at any minute, and couldn’t understand why he hadn’t. Brigitte hated to admit to her what a mess her life was at the moment, or whine about it. Her mother was always so strong and positive and energetic about life. Brigitte admired her a great deal, and had since she was a child.
    Brigitte decided to bite the bullet and start with Ted. “Actually, he had some big news this week. Great news for him. He got his own dig in Egypt. He’s leaving in three weeks.” There was silence at the other end of the phone.
    “What does that translate to for you? Are you going to Egypt with him?” Her mother sounded worried when she asked. Having her only child in Boston was hard enough. Egypt was nowhere on her map.
    “No, I’m not. This is what he’s always wanted, and he’s going to be there for a long time. At least three years, maybe five. And who knows, if he does a good job of it, maybe ten. That pretty much lets me out of the plan.” She tried to sound calm and philosophical about it, more than she felt.
    “Did you know about this?” Her mother sounded disapproving and shocked.
    “Sort of. I knew it was what he wanted. I guess I never really thought it would happen, but it did, and things are moving pretty fast. So we kind of decided to end it between us this week and move on. He needs to be free to pursue his dream.” She tried to sound up about it, but she was way down, in a dark pit of self-pity and grief.
    “What about your dreams? You’ve been with him for six years.” Her mother sounded stern. She wasn’t angry at her daughter, but at Ted. The trouble was that Brigitte had never identified her dream, neither to Ted nor to herself. So now he had his dream, and she had none. “That’s pretty selfish of him to just go off and do his thing,” her mother said bluntly. She sounded angry, in defense of her daughter.
    “It’s what he’s wanted since he started working at BU, Mom. I can’t blame him for that. I just somehow forgot that along the way. Anyway, that’s the way it is.” She swallowed hard then, and decided to tell her mother the rest. “It’s been kind of a crazy week actually. I got laid off yesterday, replaced by a computer.”
    “You got