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things we don’t do or say today. Things change, people change, you can’t go home again, the past is the past, period, the end.”
    And yet, I thought, here I am with Sophie, the closest friend I’d ever had. My protestations sounded ridiculous even to my own ears. Something had made me say yes to Sophie’s invitation, something other than mere curiosity, and if it wasn’t partly nostalgia, then I was fooling myself.
    â€œI’m going to order some oysters,” I said.

10

    Dear Answer Lady:
    I get terribly seasick. Even the sight of a body of water makes me nauseous. My girlfriend has been pestering me to go on a cruise with her. She doesn’t know about my problem and I’m embarrassed to tell her. What should I do?
    Â 
    Â 
    Dear Idiot:
    Tell her about your problem. No woman wants to spend seven days on the high seas with a man while his head is in the toilet.

    S OPHIE
    Â 
    â€œI’ve been going on about me this whole time! I’m sorry, Eva. I guess I’m just excited seeing you after all these years.”
    Eva smiled a bit. “Oh, that’s all right. There’s not really much to tell about me.”
    I didn’t believe it for a minute. No woman carrying a Gucci bag (the bartender had raved about it, that’s how I knew it was a real Gucci) lived a boring life. “Oh, come on,” I said. “I’m sure your life is very exciting, at least, compared to mine. So, tell me, are you seeing anyone special?”
    â€œNo,” she said flatly.
    Undaunted, I asked: “Are you looking?”
    Eva gave me a look of studied blankness. “Why?” she asked. “Should I be?”
    â€œNo, no,” I replied hurriedly, fearing I’d been rude, “of course not, not if you don’t want to be looking.”
    Eva’s expression remained unchanged. “I don’t really have the time right now for a relationship.”
    â€œOh, sure,” I said with a nod. “I understand. What with your job and all.”
    â€œRight. What with my job.”
    Eva looked away and busied herself with the oysters she’d ordered. (I don’t like oysters.)
    â€œWas there ever someone special,” I ventured, “you know, after we fell out of touch?”
    Eva put down the skinny little oyster fork and seemed to consider before answering.
    â€œWell,” she said, “I dated, of course. But nobody struck me as good enough to marry, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    â€œOh,” I said. “I’m sorry. Maybe—”
    â€œActually, there was one exception, a few years back. I thought for a while that he was worth the effort of a serious relationship.”
    Eva took a sip of her drink—a martini—and left me to consider that tantalizing nugget of information. “What happened?” I asked.
    Eva carefully replaced her drink on the bar before replying.
    â€œWhat happened,” she said, “was that he left me.”
    â€œOh, Eva, I’m sorry.”
    I reached for her left hand on the bar but Eva moved it away. I remembered then how awkward my greeting kiss had made her and vowed to avoid unnecessary physical contact until we got better reacquainted.
    â€œThere was another woman,” Eva said. “He denied it but I knew better.”
    I nodded. Didn’t most men cheat on their wives and girlfriends? At least in my limited experience they did. My son, I was sure, was not “most men.” I’d tried very hard to teach him the importance of fidelity.
    â€œLook,” Eva went on, her expression hard, “what else could it have been but another woman? I’m successful, I’m smart, I’m attractive. Why would a man in his right mind leave me unless another woman had gotten her hands on him?”
    For a moment I thought that Eva was joking, mocking herself and her own faults in the relationship, and then, looking carefully at her face, I realized