The backdrop was the same. Like an observer in a dream, she watched the whole scene unfold under the maples as though it were happening in the present. She couldn’t believe it had been almost thirty years ago. How could it be so easy to remember every detail of that night at the dance on the wharf when she couldn’t remember how she had managed to lift Mike off the floor that morning?
She had not allowed herself to think about the summer she’d met Mike since he got sick. Now the memories seemed to be escaping from some stockpiled vault in her mind simply because she had opened it to retrieve one precious thought.
Karen drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them. But there was no protecting herself from the memories.
There was the ride home in the green Mustang.
The sunsets they had witnessed together.
The stars they had dreamed upon.
The inevitable transition from Southold to Queens.
