On the plane to Mexico City, I thought about how death shreds time. My ordinary life had vanished.

He must think her one of those aggressive competent American women. I am competent, she thought, her head lying on the edge of the boat, tears swept away by the high waves.

Oh, Mel, what am I going to do? Quit teaching? Travel? Get a doctorate? Commit suicide? Where did that thought come from?

I can't handle you being dead, Ter. But you know that.