The invitation was short and pleased with itself. He hoped I would come and see how far he had come, and then added that my career had probably stopped at Captain. I read it twice, not because it stung but because the purpose behind it was so plain. He wanted a witness. Ten years ago Grady Sinclair and I served together and dated, and even then he kept a scoreboard in his head about assignments and rank and whose name people said first. When my promotion came through he congratulated me with the right words and the wrong eyes, and one autumn evening I ended it across a dinner table, quietly, because I could see the whole shape of a life spent making myself smaller so he could stand taller.

I did not reply to the message. I asked Captain Bell to confirm the schedule, and when he told me carefully that Grady was on the list and offered to arrange another presiding officer, I said no.