I’d thought we might ask Gabe to join us for dinner, or maybe Anita and Paula, but as we shut our happy white folders and gathered our collection of papers and books into the cloth tote embossed with the same sunny insignia found on the folders, I knew that Ramon would not want to be with other people that night. This is one of the many ways we’re different, Ramon and I. When in front of people, I am cloudless and blithe; I work hard to impress others, to make them feel at ease, and to uphold the notion that I am interesting and charming. Ramon, who is always himself, feels distant and lost when I don’t look up from my performance to note him there. I resisted my impulse to ask others to join and instead, as we were leaving, I asked for a good local place to eat. “Fancy?” Anita asked. We’d walked over to their Subaru, the back filled with dog beds and bug sprays and a tangle of bright leashes. I shook my head.
