“Hey, man,” he said, “can I go with you to Oregon? When you do take off finally?” She smiled at him, gently and with acute tenderness, with the answer no. And he understood, from knowing her, that she meant it. And it would not change. He shivered. “Are you cold?” she asked. “Yeah,” he said. “Very cold.” “I got that good MG heater in my car,” she said, “for when we’re at the drive-in … you’ll warm up there.” She took his hand, squeezed it, held it, and then, all at once, she let it drop. But the actual touch of her lingered, inside his heart. That remained. In all the years of his life ahead,
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