For two days our conversations came to a sudden halt.On the long balcony that both our bedrooms shared, total avoidance: just a makeshift hello, good morning, nice weather, shallow chitchat.Then, without explanation, things resumed.Did I want to go jogging this morning? No, not really. Well, let's swim, then.
…………all these started the summer Oliver came into our house. They are em¬bossed on every song that was a hit that summer, in every novel I read during and after his stay, on anything from the smell of rosemary on hot days to the frantic rattle of the cicadas in the afternoon—smells and sounds I'd grown up with and known every year of my life until then but that had suddenly turned on me and acquired an inflection forever colored by the events of that summer.