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can’t come,” I said.
    I wasn’t sure why I insisted I couldn’t come. I wasn’t sure what plans I had for the next day. I had work, but I could get out of work. Anyway, it was a telecommuting job. I could do my job in California. I had ideas for how I was going to spend the day. There was a movie I wanted to see. Or maybe I was going to go to the Russian gym I belonged to around the corner and swim laps. Suddenly, I remembered the novel I had finished that morning. I had finished it. I had finished my novel. Maybe I was going to go sit in a café and read my novel. That was something I wanted to do.
    â€œGive me the phone,” I heard someone say, and then Diego was on the line.
    â€œWhat is your problem, Leah?”
    â€œDiego,” I said. Suddenly, I was grinning. Clutching the phone, the biggest smile on my face. “You still work there?”
    â€œYes, Leah, I still work here. Don’t be rude. I am a manager now. Do you have a problem with that?”
    â€œDo you have a girlfriend?” I asked.
    â€œIn the plural,” Diego said and he laughed. I rememberedthat laugh. He was so good-looking. Latin. Why was it that I had married an Austrian? Hans was so methodical about things, while at the same time, he was such a mess.
    â€œGet yourself on a plane,” Diego said. “This is Judy we are talking about.”
    â€œI loved Judy,” I said.
    â€œI know you did. She knew you did.”
    â€œWe haven’t talked in years,” I said. “I think I hurt her feelings. I used to write her emails in my head, but I never sent them.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.”
    â€œIt does matter.”
    â€œI had lunch with her last week, Leah,” Diego said. “It doesn’t matter. We talked about you.”
    â€œYou did? You talked about me?” I did not know why I was so hurt. Why hadn’t they called me? Judy. Diego. Why was Judy dead? There were no tissues in the room, just an empty tissue box. I wiped the tears from my face with the bottom of my T-shirt.
    â€œAre you crying?” Diego asked.
    I shook my head. “No,” I said. It was obvious that I was crying. “I’m not.”
    â€œDo you know what I am doing right now?” he said.
    I shook my head again, knowing that Diego couldn’t see me. I did not know what he was doing.
    â€œI am putting a work order into the computer.”
    â€œA work order,” I said.
    â€œDone,” he said.
    â€œThat was fast,” I said.
    â€œI type faster than anyone.”
    I remembered. He had long, slender fingers.
    â€œOkay,” Diego said. “So I found a flight that leaves in four hours. It’s the last plane out tonight. You get into San Francisco insanely early, more like the middle of the night. You’ll be in time for the funeral. I will be heroic and pick you up at the airport. Can you do that?”
    I shook my head. “No,” I said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI’m married.”
    â€œSo?”
    I did not have an answer to that.
    â€œDo you have a baby?” Diego asked.
    I shook my head again.
    â€œAre you pregnant?”
    â€œNo,” I practically screamed.
    â€œWell, your husband can take of himself.”
    â€œHe made pad thai for dinner.”
    Diego missed a beat. He did not know quite how to respond to that. “Well, good,” Diego said. “When do you want to come back?”
    â€œCome back?” I asked.
    â€œI thought you went to writing school.”
    â€œI did,” I said. “Why?”
    â€œWell, your articulation of the English language is lacking. When do you want to come back? Your return ticket. I have to put something into the computer.”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œDoes a week sound good?”
    â€œNo,” I said, surprising myself.
    â€œIt doesn’t?”
    â€œI don’t think it’s enough,” I said.
    â€œI think you are right,”