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be.”
    â€œDo you need a lift home?”
    â€œI don’t want to trouble you.” She paused. Then, “You don’t mind?”
    â€œNot at all.”
    I pulled the handle, and the door swung open. She climbed in. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry if it’s a bit of a drive.”
    â€œIt’s fine. I wasn’t doing much anyway.”
    â€œLeft at the gate,” she said.
    The truth was, it felt good to be useful. It made me feel normal in a way that I hadn’t in a while. So much of my life was out of control, but this I could do—provide a ride to someone who needed it. She guided me by stops. She didn’t use the street names, but she counted the intersections, guiding me to the highway, the blind leading the blind. The miles rolled by.
    Boston, a city that hasn’t forgotten itself. A city outside of time. Crumbling brick and stylish concrete. Road names that existed before the Redcoats invaded. It is easy to lose yourself, to imagine yourself lost, while winding through the chaotic streets. Outside the city proper, there is stone everywhere, and trees—soft pine and colorful deciduous. I saw a map in my head, Cape Cod jutting into the Atlantic. The cape is a curl of land positioned so perfectly to protect Boston that it seems a thing designed. If not by man, then by God. God wanted a city where Boston sits.
    The houses, I know, are expensive beyond all reason. It is a place that defies farming. Scratch the earth, and a rock will leap out and hit you. People build stone walls around their properties so they’ll have someplace to put the stones.
    At her apartment, I pulled to a stop in a small parking lot. I walked her to her door, like this was a date. Standing next to her, I noticed she was only a few inches shorter than me, long and lean, and we were at the door, her empty blue eyes focused on something far away until she looked at me, looked , and I could swear for a moment that she saw me.
    Then her eyes glided past my shoulder, focused again on some vista only she could see.
    â€œI’m renting now,” she said. “Once my probationary period is over, I’ll probably buy a condo closer to work.”
    â€œI didn’t realize you were still on probation, too.”
    â€œI actually hired in the week after you.”
    â€œAh, so I have seniority. Good to know.”
    She smiled. “I’m hoping to stay on once my probation ends.”
    â€œThen I’m sure you will.”
    â€œPerhaps,” she said. “At least my research is cheap. I bought the acoustical software before I came here, so now it’s only me and my ears that they’re paying for. I’m a small investment. Can I entice you in for coffee?”
    â€œI should be going, but another time.”
    â€œI understand.” She extended her hand. “Another time then. Thank you for the ride.”
    I was about to turn and leave, but her voice stopped me. “You know, I heard them talking about you.”
    I turned. “Who?”
    â€œMen from the front office. It’s a strange thing, being blind. Sometimes people think you’re deaf, too. Or perhaps being blind makes you invisible. Am I invisible to you?”
    The question caught me off guard. There was something in her expression. A deviousness to her smile. “No,” I said. I wondered if she knew she was beautiful. She must know.
    â€œMost people are good talkers,” she said. “But I’ve cultivated a facility for the opposite. Jeremy said you were brilliant.”
    â€œHe said that?”
    â€œI have a question before you go.”
    â€œOkay.”
    She brought her hand up to find my cheek. “Why are the brilliant ones always so fucked up?”
    Her hand was cool on my skin. It was the first time I’d been touched in a long time.
    â€œYou need to be careful,” she said. “I can smell the alcohol on you some mornings. And if I