Alice never packed a bag. Her time in the apartment just dwindled. I pretended we were suffering a temporary rift, and that in her silent way she would slip back into my arms. Four or five lonely nights had passed before the morning I cornered her in the hall of the administration building.

“Philip,” she said, almost sweetly.

“Alice.”

“I have to stay with Lack,” she said. “He can’t be left unobserved.”

Neither can I, I wanted to say.

“I’m canceling my classes. This is a big opportunity. Lack’s all mine now. I understand what he’s saying. I’m the only one.”

“You’re the only one for Lack.”

“Yes.”

It was work holding back my sarcasm. The result was silence.

“Philip. You understand, don’t you?”

I closed my eyes, leaned against the wall. “You’re sleeping with Lack.”

She ignored the provocation. “I’m sleeping in the lab. I mean, I’m not really sleeping much, to tell the truth. Please understand, Philip. I’m on the edge of the territory.”

Horizon of the real, I silently corrected.

A desultory student passed us in the hall, headed for some office to beg for reprieve.

“You’re leaving me,” I said.

“I have to be where this takes me.”

“It takes you away. You’re gone, and I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

“Worse than alone, actually. I’m partial. I’m part of something that isn’t there anymore. I’m a broken-off chunk.”

Alice looked down. “What I’m doing is very important.”

“When will you come back?”

Silence.

“Say something encouraging,” I said. “Tell me it’s good for us. Tell me you think I’m overreacting. Use the word us.”

She met my eyes with a look of terror.

“What I’m hearing is you won’t use the word us,” I said.

She stared at her feet again. “Soft once told me that certain discoveries choose the scientist who discovers them. They wait for the right one. That’s me and Lack.”

Welling sarcasm again drowned my tongue.

Alice took my hand. “I have to go, Philip.”

“To Lack.”

“Yes.” She pulled her hand away, ran hair out of her eyes, smiled feebly. “I’m sorry.”

Before I could speak she was gone.