See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil

One morning, Pamela woke up in her cabin with a swollen arm, an injury that puzzled the camp nurse: Pamela had not fallen or tripped, been bitten or stung. At the end of the season, however, she learned that her brother had broken his arm across the lake the day her swelling began.

As a high school student at Fontbonne Hall, a Catholic girls' school in Bay Ridge, Pamela came to every football game at Poly Prep, the nearby boys' school where Robert and I were both students. Now sixty-one, she long ago took the last name, Romano, of her late husband. But when I saw her recently, she had  . . . 

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