I didn’t know so much of this. Then, we were only standing and looking up at that red-brick building, and I was pretending that I never had to fear for him, and he was letting me pretend this: that all the dangerous things he could have done, all the ways he could have broken my heart, were in the past, the stuff of stories, that the time that lay behind us was scary, but the time that lay ahead of us was not. “You jumped off the roof?” I repeated. “Why on earth would you have done such a thing?” “It’s a good story,” he said. He even grinned at me. “I’ll tell you.” “Please,” I said. And then
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