Chapter 11

Each time I leaned in to him, my dick would poke his butt somewhere and I could feel his hardness trapped between us. It didn't take us long to start gyrating and bobbing against each other as the kissing got more and more serious. I was busy sucking out his tongue when he let out several high-pitched whimpers through his nose.

"Randy, are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

He sucked in air and looked down between us. "Oh yes...yes." I looked down too at the water between our bodies. Several pearly ropes were suspended in the water swaying in a liberated dance of freedom.

"Well, that's got to be a first," I smirked.

"What?"

"I've never gotten anybody off with my stomach. At least not that I can remember. I'm glad now I didn't go on that crash diet. If I'd lost my pot belly, this never would have happened."

He laughed an easy baritone laugh that echoed through the cathedral. "Maybe you should have your own chapter in The Joy of Gay Sex."

I tried to frown menacingly. "Like what? 'How to Have Fun with Fat Guys'?" My comment came out sounding more serious than I really had meant it to. He got serious too and that bothered me as well.

"No! That's not what I mean at all. Besides, you're not fat. You're..."

"Be careful here," I warned with a smile. "And be kind."

"You're...ahh, well...it's, uhh...Oh what the hell! So you've got a spare tire around your middle. So what? It's not like it's a truck tire, for god's sake. More like a motorcycle tire. See?" He "pinched an inch", maybe a little more, and said, "It's not like you've got a problem or anything. At least it's not a problem for me."

I smiled and turned on my radio voice. "You have answered wisely and well, impudent pup. You shall live yet another day." He surprised me by replying in kind. It started to sound like a bad 1940's radio drama.

"Oh, thank you, sire. I live only to walk in the shadow of your greatness."

"Silence, unthinking fool! Speak again of the greatness of my girth, and I shall club you into submission."

"Ooh," he wiggled his eyebrows and grabbed for my crotch. "May I choose the club myself? Oh, sire, this is nought but a stub now. But fear not. I shall use the knowledge of the East to restore it for you."

"You've been to the East, scoundrel?" I asked amazed.

"East Missouri, my liege, in the city of Louis the Holy King where such knowledge is shared freely."

"Freely, you say?"

He dropped his character voice. "Well, mostly for free. Some will try to charge you, but I don't believe in paying for it." I thought of $140 worth of food and stuff going uneaten at the apartment. "Why the frown?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking of how I screwed myself at the grocery store and didn't even get kissed. I'll tell you the story later. And you better not laugh too hard." I did tell him later about my frantic shopping binge and he did laugh, and not too hard. He simply said, "That's sweet," and then tried to suck my tongue out of my head. But that was later.

"I'm getting out," I said. "You coming?" He gave me a sly smile. "You know what I mean. C'mon." I hopped out of the pool and had gotten only a few feet away when I heard "Nice ass" from behind me. "Well, if you want it," I said over my shoulder, "you'd better get your pruney ass out of that pool. And be quick about it."

"Yes, sir."

I heard the flap-flap-flapping of bare feet trotting up behind me. He snaked his arm around my waist and kissed the side of my neck. "Fast enough for you?" He pulled me closer. How can someone who has just gotten out of a pool feel that warm?

"Yes, that was fast enough. Good dog." I patted his head.

"I thought I was an 'impudent puppy' back there."

I threw a couple of towels on the chaise lounge, then picked up the end of the lounge and started wheeling it toward the house. Randy picked up on what I was doing and smiled as I looked up to make sure we couldn't be seen from the house.

"Hunh! More like a horny puppy. If you start humping my leg, I'll take a rolled-up newspaper to you and make you mind me."

"Not a problem. I'll mind you all you want."

I shook out a towel and handed it to him. "And why would you 'mind me' like that? Why are you fooling around here? With me of all people? It's not logical, Mr. Spock. You should be going out with guys your own age, sexual athletes like yourself." I turned back to get my towel but Randy draped his over my shoulders and started drying off my back.

"I'm not looking for a sexual athlete. That turns sex into an endurance test, a contest. I don't want that. Besides, you haven't let me down yet." He leaned in from behind and licked my ear and then whispered, "You seem able to keep up pretty good."

"That's all very nice, but you're avoiding the question. Why me? I know you're not looking for a 'daddy'. At least you said you weren't. So what's the attraction?" He squeezed my butt while he was drying it. Was that squeeze an answer?

He slowly shook his head like he didn't believe I was actually asking the question. Or maybe he was stalling to formulate his answer. "Do you remember the day we met?"

"Oh, Lord! You mean the day I made a fool of myself outside the theater? What a great first impression that was!" I wrapped my towel around him and drew him to me.

"Well, yeah, you were kind of...dorky outside." He kissed the tip of my nose to take the sting out of his appraisal. I blushed in embarrassment again just thinking of that awful scene outside the theater.

I sat down on the chaise lounge and patted the space next to me. Randy plopped himself down on my left and curled himself up against me, his head on my shoulder and his left arm around my waist. I pulled the afghan over both of us.

"When I came outside and saw you standing there with your brother and Mad Max, I was overwhelmed. You were so--I'm not sure what the right word is--impressive the way you were standing there. You seemed so self-confident, so sure of yourself and what you were doing right then."

His impish grin was widening; I knew I was about to get skewered. "When I looked at you and you started to...ahem...lose it, you did kinda lose points. Don't take this the wrong way, but I thought, Maybe he is just another queen who wants to fire on me and then put me in his trophy case. I followed you 'cuz I had to find out for myself.

"Lucky for you that wasn't my first impression. That came before the movie. I was standing right behind you in the lobby trying to listen to your conversation and mine. Your wisecracks were breaking me up inside but I had to keep a serious expression on my face for my own conversation.

"I had to look when some twink walked by and you said something like 'He's a tabula rasa I wouldn't waste my ink on.' It was a little snobbish, I thought, but then you said, 'Even when he got it, he wouldn't get it.' I have to admit I've never heard anyone quote John Locke when they were checking out eye candy in public. So right off the bat, I knew you were smart and funny. Those are important items on my husband-hunting list.

"One of your friends was trying to get your attention, trying to point to me with his eyes so you'd turn around, but you never caught on. You were intent on ogling the guys. And then your other friend said something like "Just go ask him if he wants to get married.'

"And you said, 'I'd give everything you own for a husband who wouldn't leave after two years.' I thought that was funny and sad. And it kinda got me thinking. Here was a guy who wanted someone to love and wanted it--now don't get mad--almost desperately."

I didn't get mad, but I was a little miffed when he said that. "So I was a pity fuck, huh?" I gave him a not too playful punch on the shoulder with the butt of my hand. Let's hear you talk your way out of this one, Pretty Boy.

"No, not at all. I knew that you'd say something like that. Look, I'm probably saying this all wrong. Maybe 'desperate' isn't the right word. You just sounded like you wanted a chance to prove that you could make a relationship work. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Was I?"

He had lobbed the ball nicely into my half of the court just over the net and I was caught off guard back at the baseline. I was lying naked next to one of the most beautiful guys I'd ever met, much less actually talked to. When you're lying naked like that, it's difficult to lie. Time to lay out the real Bob Schneider and dissect him like never before.

"Maybe you did assume too much. I think I know how to make a relationship work, but there are things you should know. For one thing, I'm pretty shallow. I mean, if you looked like Quasimodo, I probably wouldn't have given you the time of day.

"And I'm vain. Not about my looks. I know I'm nothing special there."

"Yes, you are," he interrupted. "More than you know. Obviously."

He derailed my train of thought with that comment and I could feel the blush spread. "Thank you, but I'm talking about something else. I guess it's my opinion of myself. It's like I think my shit doesn't stink, to put it crudely. Whatever decision I make is always the right one. And even if someone proves it otherwise, then he's still wrong.

"And I don't wait too long to be like that. More often than not, potential boyfriends, lovers, husbands--whatever--leave pissed off or just don't come around any more. So I guess the real truth is...No, I don't know how to make a relationship to work."

"But you've had lovers, right? I mean, you talked about having someone stay more than two years."

"I've had three 'husbands'. One I kicked out because he was doing drugs; that was a no-brainer. That was husband #2. As for husband #1, well, we both pretty much got on each other's nerves at about the same time. We fell out of love as easily as we fell into it. We were both too young.

"The last one was about eight or nine years ago. He got transferred out West by his job."

"Then that doesn't count, does it?"

"On the surface, no. But I was already building up a case against him so he'd have to leave."

"Why did you do that?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I knew deep down inside that he was bucking for a promotion and that promotion would take him away. Maybe I just wanted to make the first move, kind of a pre-emptive strike."

"So what you're saying is that he was doing this promotion thing on purpose so he'd have to leave? What if he didn't know that a move was involved?"

"I don't know. I just presumed that he knew that he would be leaving me."

"Did you ever ask him?"

"No, I didn't."

"I think you should."

"I can't any more; I don't know where he is. After about a year out there, he left the company and nobody knew where he went."

"Oh. So you can't get a hold of this guy any more. And this was almost ten years ago?" I nodded. "Which means you can't really be sure of who was gonna do what to whom way back then.

"Okay then. This seems pretty simple to me then. Of course I'm not as close to it as you are, so you may not think it's so 'simple'. Since there's no way to find out definitively what everybody was thinking or planning back then, why not just give everybody, especially yourself, the benefit of the doubt." He shrugged like it was the only logical conclusion.

"Okay, I'm still lost here. Hit me on the head again."

"Look, you didn't actually do anything to drive your partner off. You've got to give him the benefit of the doubt that he didn't know he would have to move away. And you've got to stop beating yourself up for something you never did."

He fell back onto the lounge, rearranged the afghan over us and took my left hand in his right. He had such a self-satisfied smile right then. And, God, how I wanted to believe him. I was about to say It won't work, but I remembered my conversation last night. What are you prepared to do to make this work?

"You do make it sound simple. I don't know if I can change all that quickly. But I want to this time. I mean, I've been thinking that way for a long time now. It's gonna be hard for me though."

His left hand which had been lazily charting the territory between my belly button and my pubes moved purposefully for my crotch. "Hmmm...Yes, it will be hard. And I'm guessing in less than a minute." He slid below the afghan, and by the time I felt his breath down there, I was ready.

He tried to brink me, but I was too excited from his explorations. After the first volley, he was back on it making sure he got every drop. When I finally relaxed back onto the lounge, I heard from beneath the afghan, "Oh man! That hit me right in the nose."

I tried to keep it to a giggle, but that wasn't going to happen. I laughed long and loud, especially when he came up for air wiping jizz off his nose. He was laughing too and said, "You may think it's funny, but it's snot." Which of course set us to laughing even harder. There's nothing like seventh-grade humor, is there?

Once I caught my breath, I pulled him so his head lay on my chest. "Now you've risked drowning twice for me. I guess I'll have to devote the rest of my life to you now."

"I'll vote for that." He waited just a beat before adding, "But you may want to change your mind."

"You keep hinting that I'm going to throw you out with tomorrow's trash for some unexplained reason. So how about you explain it?" I was smiling but I put enough of an edge on the question to let him know that I was just a little miffed about all the mystery.

"Not now. I'm too comfy. I want to make this last."

He must've been real comfy, snuggling even closer, hugging me tighter. Within a couple of minutes he was out. His regular breathing was interrupted by a deep breath that he let out slowly. His breath warmed my nipple. I knew it was just a reflex action of his body, but I took it for subconscious contentment. Hey, I'll take brownie points wherever I can find them.

I tried to neaten his damp hair but I didn't want to risk waking him. I let my hand rest on his head and leaned back looking at the sky through the glass roof. A Cheshire cat moon was directly overhead, and I thought to myself, Yeah, I know how you feel. I fell asleep too.

Somebody was tickling my foot. I cracked open an eye expecting to see one of the kids grinning at us. Maybe I was still dreaming; no one was there. The tickling continued. I pushed my glasses up to where they should be just as a huge black spider climbed atop my middle toe.

Let me tell you right now that there are only a handful of things that really scare me. Drunk drivers; anyone wielding a handgun who doesn't know what the fuck he's doing; and a few things left over from childhood, namely, spiders and snakes. Every spider is the Red Scorpion of Death and every snake, even a harmless garter snake, is a rattler.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise that I acted like a girl right then. I let out a whoop and lurched backwards to a sitting position, shaking my foot and almost knocking Randy over. I brought the afghan up to my chin which exposed his butt and curled up legs to the air.

"What's the matter?" he yawned with half-opened eyes, trying to re-cover himself with the afghan.

"Oh, uhh, just a bad dream I guess," I lied.

"What time is it?" I looked at my bare wrist; my watch was still on the table.

"Not sure. Pretty late I think." I looked up but the Cheshire cat was gone. I gave him a nudge. "Let's go to bed."

"I thought you'd never ask," he mumbled.

Inside we found the boys asleep on the living room floor, Toby curled up in a fetal position, Stick lying face down behind him with his arm over Toby's waist. I heard a "Pssst" behind me. Randy was crooking his finger for me to come into the dining room.

He pulled aside the drape. "Look." Things looked okay at the pool except that our clothes were still out there. I leaned forward to make sure we had been out of sight when we moved the lounge.

"What're you looking at?" I whispered. "Everything looks okay."

"Look at the window."

I refocused to see what he was looking at. I stifled a laugh. There was no mistaking the fact that one of the boys had enjoyed our little show way too much. I pulled him away. "Let's go."

I showed him where the master bedroom was. I took a light blanket to put over the boys. As soon as it was down, Stick rolled over and spooned Toby. Another Kodak moment. Another Kodak moment I could have used against them if I'd had a camera.

Randy was sound asleep again when I got back to the bedroom. I slid under the covers, wrapped my arm around him and drifted off to bliss.

I awoke to voices in the hallway.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"I just want to see if they're awake."

"You want to see if they're 'up' you mean."

"Shut up! Besides, I'm hungry."

"So go make some breakfast."

"I want some real food. It's Sunday."

"Can't you even cook? Jeez, what good are you?"

"Shut up, asshole!"

"OW! Hey, that one hurt, fucker!"

"Maybe next time I'll aim for your teeth. They're big enough."

There was the sound of scuffling right outside the door. At least punches weren't being thrown. At least I didn't think they were. I spoke loud enough that they would hear me but so I wouldn't startle Randy right next to me. "What are you guys doing out there?" The scuffling stopped. "Well?" I got the standard teenage reply in unison.

"No-o-othing."

I pulled on a t-shirt and boxers before opening the door none too gently. "Okay, what the hell is going on out here? What's wrong with you two anyway?" I didn't have to fake an annoyed look.

"He's bein' a jerk."

"He's an asshole."

I ran my fingers over my head hoping my morning hair didn't look too bizarre. "Jesus, Randy was right about you two." They looked at each other, wondering what that could mean. "He said he thought you two were brothers. You're sure as hell acting like it this morning.

"Now I'm going to alleviate certain bodily pressures which have accumulated over the course of the night." They had the same stupefied looks on their faces. "I'm gonna take a leak, okay? You two sit at the dining room table and by the time I get out, I want you two to be well on your way to apologizing to each other. If not," I leaned in and poked each one in the chest, "I'm going to start knocking heads."

My god, I've finally have turned into my father! He didn't give a damn who was right and who was wrong. As far as he was concerned, brothers should never fight. To hear him tell it, he and Uncle Ed never once fought when they were kids. Ever. Richard and I found it hard to believe since we were at each other so much, but we never had a chance to ask Uncle Ed. He lived somewhere in Oregon, which might as well have been outer space for us.

When Pop threatened "to crack some heads," it was no idle threat. More than once--way more than once--he had grabbed our hair and slammed our heads together. If nothing else, it made us avoid each other for a while. Which was probably the old man's plan from the beginning.

I couldn't hear any of the conversation while I was in the bathroom. I couldn't hear any shouting either, so that was a good sign. I didn't know how much or even if they fought before like this, but if they hadn't, I wasn't going to let it develop on my watch. Hopefully, they'd work it out. If not, I had Pop's head-cracking in reserve.

I looked in on Randy who was barely awake. "What's going on?" he asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"I'm playing Solomon already. Not one of my favorites at this hour."

"What time is it?"

"Around ten. Listen, you sleep in as long as you like. I'll keep the kids quiet. I hope. If you need to get up, there's probably a robe in Hank's closet." He collapsed back into the pillow with a "Mrmphf" and I let him be as he disappeared under the blanket.

In the dining room I asked, "Making any progress?"

"Yes." "No."

"Well, hurry it up. Neither of you eats until you've worked it out and apologized." Now there's a motivator Pop never thought of, denying food to a teenager. It seemed to hit home with these two.

"Listen," said Stick after a long moment of silence, "I'm sorry I said that thing about your teeth. They're not all that big. They just seem big."

"Oh, well, thanks for nothing, dipshit."

This might take a while after all. "No name calling," I said from the kitchen. It retards the process. And you two are retarded enough already."

"Jesus, what do you want anyway? An apolo...?" This, I believe, is the pregnant pause where the light bulb above Stick's head turned on like a lighthouse beacon. Maybe he's not as bright as I thought he was. "I'm sorry" came out much softer. "I didn't really mean it anyway. I like the way you smile. And if you want, you know, some help cleaning them..."

"No thanks. I know how you want to do it." Toby's voice dropped down to a loud, frantic whisper. "Stop it. He's right around the corner."

If I had to swear in a court of law, I'd have to say, "I'm not sure." But outside the courtroom I'd say that it sure sounded like a kiss. In the silence I chose to start the coffee grinder. Thirteen seconds of grinding and schwizzing sounds that would let me off the hook for whatever they were doing in the dining room. Besides, how much can you do in thirteen seconds?

Once the coffee was on its way, I revisited the boys. They were seated opposite each other, Stick smirking and Toby frowning. "Well, any progress? Or do you guys start your diet today?"

"I made my apology," Stick said proudly and sat up a bit straighter. Toby glowered at him.

I gave Toby a questioning look. "I'm not sure how I want to say it. I'm not even sure any more what I'm supposed to be apologizing for."

"Then ask Stick. What did he say that ticked you off?"

"What he said in the hall."

"Don't tell me. Tell him." I pointed my thumb at Toby.

"That stuff you said in the hall about, you know, making me sound like a sneak." He gave me a quick glance to see if I realized what he had meant. I kept my face as neutral as possible. "And about being no good at anything."

Toby looked at Stick like he was meeting him for the first time. "Okay, I'll take back the part about not being good at anything. Mom says everybody's good at something. Maybe I just haven't seen it in you yet."

"Really?" I interjected. "I didn't think Maureen was capable of saying something like that."

"She was talking about Hank. When I asked her what he was good at, she just laughed." Now that sounds like Maureen. "But I'm not taking back the first part. 'Cuz you know it's true."

Stick blushed tomato red and his mouth popped open, surprised that Toby wasn't backing down on both points. His lips started moving, but no sound came out. Time for the referee to step in.

"I hereby declare the grievances satisfied. Gentlemen, stand up and shake hands. Or whatever you do nowadays to make up." They shook hands rather perfunctorily. "Friends again?"

"Friends." "Yeah, I guess so." Not a lot of enthusiasm there, but they'd get over it.

"Okay, both of you hit the living room. You know Hank likes it spotless. Then just neaten up in here. Oh, and one of you hit the window with some Windex. It looks like somebody blew their nose on the glass." Both jaws dropped as I turned for the kitchen. I heard Stick mutter, "That's your job, not mine."

"When you're done, both of you come help me in the kitchen." Breakfast was a pretty quiet time. They gave each other a fairly wide berth as they moved around. I tried involving Stick more in the process, giving him a cooking lesson without making it seem like a lesson.

He was in charge of pancakes on the double griddle. They all came out pretty much round, except one that looked like a teardrop, and not one of them was hard. He watched the griddle like a prison guard ready to swat any pancake insolent enough to attempt escape.

Randy appeared mid-meal. What a show stopper! He had the movie star hair again, brushed straight back, still damp and dark from the shower. Hank's white robe was open enough that the sharply cut valley between his pecs drew the eye back to his stunning smile.

He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. "Good morning, big guy."

"Morning, Pup. How'd you sleep?"

"I feel terrific. Neck's a little stiff from the lounge, but I had a good pillow," he smiled. "I could have slept all day except your cell phone went off."

"You want some pancakes?" Stick asked as he pushed himself back from the table.

"We got bacon and sausage too," added Toby. "I'll get you some."

"Well, Pup, you'll never starve around here, that's for sure. Don't get used to it. How would you like your eggs?"

"Usually I have 'em in a protein shake, but over easy's just fine. So what's on the agenda for today?"

"Not much. It's Sunday. Kick back, relax, try to keep these two yahoos from killing each other. You know, regular family stuff.

"Which reminds me. I should take inventory and make sure I have enough food in case everyone shows up."

"Just how many are coming today?"

"Let's see...Mack will be here of course. Kevin and Shoe maybe. Stick, do you want to invite your friend Bill for the afternoon?"

"Bill? Why would I want to do that?"

"Stick, how many friends do you have?" asked Randy.

"Uhh, I dunno. Enough, I guess." Randy snorted in his orange juice and shook his head sadly. Stick had a "what did I say wrong" look on his face.

"How many your own age?"

He looked sideways at Toby who was absorbed in cleaning the electric skillet at the sink. "Uhh, one?" He wanted to know if that was the correct answer.

"Is that 'enough'?" I asked. He already knew the answer.

"But he's such a kid," he whined. That did it. I really dislike pigheadedness. It reminds me of myself too much, and that comment lit my short fuse. I was ready to blow.

Randy held up his hand to ward me off. "Have I got this straight, Stick? This kid wants to be your friend? But you don't want him around. What's wrong with him? Is he rude? Is he mean? What?"

"No, he's not like that. He's just...He just followed me around all the time at the store. Kind of a pest really, you know, like a kid brother."

"Oh, I see. And you're probably tired of that anyway, right? I mean, you probably get that all the time at home, right? Okay, I understand now."

Stick looked to me and back to Randy. "I, uhh, don't have a kid brother." I think the point was starting to sink in. "What time should I tell him to come over?"

"Any time after one is fine." To Randy I mouthed "Thank you." To the boys I said, "Just so we don't freak him out, let's keep the shorts on in the pool today, okay?" They nodded a little too easily I thought.

The preparations for the afternoon went smoothly enough. The boys finished their cleanup after their showers and escorted Randy to the store for more food. I wasn't going to show my face in a grocery store for at least another week. While the boys scrambled to his Mustang to see who would ride in the front, Randy offered one more time to help me with my shower "for those hard to reach places." I declined the offer gracefully but kept his hopes up by telling him I might need another shower after the cooking.

Kevin didn't answer his cell phone so I left a message. For a child of the "electronics age", he ought to know how to turn on his damn toys. I reached Mack as he was leaving his home with a "surprise". He claimed to be under the weather and said he wouldn't be able to stay long. I knew though that once he got here and settled in, he'd close the place down.

Before Randy and the boys arrived, Bill showed up early with his parents. I invited them in but they were anxious to get to their Sunday visit. His father was a real Gary Cooper type. "Yep" and "Nope" seemed to cover most of his vocabulary. I got the feeling that the only other word he used was "Mebbe". His wife, however, was as outgoing as he was quiet. She's the Dean of Women at the college. Very polite, very proper, very formal. If you look up "demure" in the dictionary, you'd see here picture there. All she needed was a pair of short white gloves to complete the picture. And I'm sure she made her husband toe the line like an undergrad trying to sneak into the girls' dorm after hours.

Bill waved to his retreating parents until they were out of sight. "She sure can talk, can't she?" he said as he spun around toward me.

I'll pass on that one. "You sure look like you're ready for the pool."

"My momma wasn't too happy with it at first. She thinks that you've got to dress up when you go visit on Sunday no matter where you're goin'. If I told her I was goin' to a mud fight, she'd just tell me to wear a brown tie. She just don't get it."

"Does that bother you?"

"It used to, but not a whole lot any more. I just take along a change of clothes in a bag if I hafta. Today daddy just said, 'Momma, let the boy be.' So I didn't hafta dress up." Maybe he's not under her thumb as much as I thought.

Bill surveyed the house from end to end and let out an appreciative whistle.

"Before you ask," I said, "no, it's not mine. I'm housesitting for a friend. C'mon inside and you can help me build today's salad."

He didn't help much. He just took it over after he saw me fumbling with the lettuce. "Mind if I give it a try?" He gave it two whacks with the knife and then shredded it by hand. "You like your green peppers in strips or chunks?"

"Uhh, chunks, I guess."

"Me too. Momma likes 'em in chunks too, but daddy likes 'em in strips and he always wins when it comes to food. You got a red pepper? Pimentoes'd be even better."

I searched through the fridge for them. "Sorry, no on both counts."

It was a minor setback for him. He attacked the other ingredients reducing them to bite-sized portions. The boys came in while Bill was chopping a celery stalk at top speed. Stick was definitely impressed.

"Jeez, lookit him go! I'll be checking my salad for fingernails."

"Don't bother. I still got 'em all." He held up his hands for inspection. "But if you find the knuckle I sliced, I'd kinda like that back."

"Ew, gross, dude. If I get it. I'm throwin' it at you, shrimp."

"Okay, you guys, out of the kitchen. We've got a couple of hours before we get serious about the food. Go hit the pool. Randy and I are going for a walk.

As they got to the hallway, I heard Stick ask Bill, "You know how to cook?"

"You kiddin'? My daddy used to be a chef. Course I can cook."

Stick put his arm around Bill's shoulders and said, "We gotta talk, shrimp." Bill was in pig heaven.

Randy was sprawled in a chair in the living room looking a tad tired. "I wonder if I was like that when I was their age. I'll bet I said 'No, it's not on the list; put it back' a hundred times. I did let 'em leave the watermelon in the cart. I hope that was okay. Watermelon's my favorite after a cookout."

"Not a problem. You up for a walk?" He took my hand but I didn't have to pull him out of the chair. He was ready.

He was up and looking at me intently. "Lead the way."

Behind Hank's "cathedral" was The Green, The Orchard and The Woods. The Green was just that, nothing more than a perfectly manicured lawn. I would never say this in front of Hank, but it's so perfect it looks like Astroturf. White wrought iron benches in each of the four corners were the only adornment.

Beyond it was an orchard of maybe fifty to a hundred peach trees. Hank's preference for peaches borders on a mania. What he doesn't eat himself, he sells at the shop.

About fifty feet beyond the orchard there is a line of pine trees spaced out nicely at the top of a terraced creek bank. He landscaped that part himself to make sure his orchard never got flooded. The land on the far side of the creek was maybe just ten feet lower and level, but the grassy terrace was a gentle slope down to the creek. If the orchard is going to get flooded, you better worry about building an ark.

We sat on the top of the embankment leading down to the creek gurgling obliviously past us. The woods on the other side, not deep enough to be called a forest, were our only other witnesses. They pretty much ignored us too.

I looked at Randy leaning back on his hands, stiff-armed, scrunching up his shoulders so they weren't as broad as usual. This must be close to what he looked like only a few years ago when he was a kid. I liked the current version much better. You had to look close or wait for the sun to him them just right to see any hair on his legs.

"Are you ready yet?" I asked. I kept my voice calm, but my internal Richter scale was registering somewhere around a 7. "Are you going to tell me now?"

He sat up straight and crossed his ankles in front of himself like a Scout sitting in front of a bonfire. A ladybug crawled up his right calf muscle. He let it climb onto his forefinger so he could transport it to the grass. He reached between his legs and picked a clover blossom. "Yes," he sighed to the clover, "I guess I'd better get it over with.

"Do you remember when I told you the day we met that I stopped seeing my friend Don down in Texas? That I knew I was being used? And that it was my decision to end it? Well, I didn't handle it too well.

"For like six years--that was one-third of my life, remember--Don was my best friend, the most important person in my life. I know I loved him more than my brother and probably more than my Dad, although I most likely couldn't have admitted that even to myself.

"I was pretty much a slut for about six months. I probably went out looking five, six nights a week and scored about half the time. Most of the time I was safe. I'd use a condom if things were gonna get...serious. But sometimes I didn't.

"Then I got kinda scared so I got tested and it came back negative. At first I kinda thought, 'Hey, a free pass!', that I could go back to the way I'd been doing things. I changed my mind after my first date though. The guy was a real pig.

"That was like a wake-up call for me. But I still wanted to be connected to 'the scene', so I got a job working in one of the clubs. It was easier to tell guys I couldn't date them 'cuz of company policy. Well, word got back to the club manager and the owner and they were pissed. I mean majorly pissed! They said it was part of the job; kept customers coming back. I said it made me a whore and I didn't like that. I didn't tell 'em I'd pretty much been doing that on my own. They didn't need to know that.

"So I quit. But the owner made me a counter-offer. Said he could get me a lot more money and he said it would be 100% safe. It was a lot of money, Bob. A lot! Enough to let me pay for a year at the junior college and most of a year at a regular college.

Oh God! I knew what was coming. There was only one thing it could be. I put my face in my hands and let him continue.

"I figured making two or three videos for them and I'd be set up for a while. I wasn't thinking right, Bob. I thought it was great. These guys were paying me big bucks to get my rocks off. And I was getting 'em off on a regular basis. They seemed to be impressed by my, uhh, stamina.

"Well, I didn't make two or three videos. I made five altogether. I guess I was kind of a 'star' for them. They wanted me to do everything for them after a while, but I wouldn't. I told 'em I'd only 'top' for them. I didn't want everybody and his brother dumping their loads in me or even on me. When I finished those videos, that's when I got tested last time. It came out negative again, but I felt that I was pushing my luck. When they called asking for me again, I told 'em that I had to concentrate for finals and I'd call 'em when finals were finished.

"As soon as finals were done, I hit the road and headed home. They probably knew my schedule and were waiting to get their hooks in me. I got outta Dodge as fast as I could. But even at home, every time the phone rang, my heart would start beating faster. I figured they would know where I lived too. After a while I came down here and met Coach Maxwell. And you. And I really had some thinking to do after I went back home.

"Then I went back there about two weeks ago after I couldn't meet up with you. I didn't want to, but I had to make sure I had enough money for this year at least." He paused for a moment, letting out a desperate deep breath. "And this time..." His voice was breaking up. "I gave 'em what they wanted."

He lowered his head almost to his knees and cried like I did when my mother died--huge racking sobs and tears that might go on forever. Despite how truly pissed off I was about this, I couldn't stay away from him. I pulled him to me so he could use my shirt as his hanky. When I looked down at him, my own tears splashed on the back of his neck.

Eventually the tears did stop, but he kept breathing hard like he'd just finished a cross-country run. Instead of a "runner's high", it sounded like he was hyperventilating. He tried talking through his gasps. "I'm...so...sorry...Bob...I didn't...mean...to do...this...to you. I never wanted to hurt you.  I never would."

My right arm was around his back and my left cradled his head to my chest like some perverted pieta. I kept rocking back and forth until what he said finally hit me. "I didn't mean to do this to you." I froze but my stomach was churning like my mother's first Kenmore washer. I felt a cold finger touch my soul. I was frozen with fear.

"Ohmigod!" The playback of that wonderful night together now had a sinister laugh in the background and a faint "Gotcha! Finally!"  All the old fears were coming dangerously close to the surface. I was losing it and I don't like that. I can't allow that. "Christ on a crutch! We did it, didn't we?" It came out as a simple statement, not an accusation.

During his story I had been holding my head in my hands. If I moved them back just an inch or two, I could have covered my ears and wouldn't have to listen to this. I kept thinking, How could you be so stupid? Didn't you know what you were getting into? No, he didn't. He's young and "immortal". And incredibly stupid. I knew if I spoke, my anger would turn into rage. Way down deep inside I wanted to strike out at him and make him hurt. If I let out fifty years of rage and frustration on him, however, he wouldn't survive.

Randy's voice was almost a whisper. "I'm sorry. I should have thought more. I was so caught up in things, I didn't..."

"Caught up in things." There's a nice turn of phrase. It's so easy to get "caught up in things", especially when you're confronted with someone you'd never think would be interested in you. Okay, so I can't be hypocritical here, because I'm just as guilty, just as human as he is. "I didn't think either, babe. I should have said something too. But I didn't."

Across the creek, a rabbit looked at us, decided we were too far away to be a threat and went back to his lunch. He probably needed the energy for his late-night activities. Or maybe rabbits do it in the daytime. I don't know.

"I guess the only things that can fuck like rabbits are the rabbits themselves."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I'm trying to get my mind off these things. Which I guess I shouldn't do. I don't want to think about what all this means. But I can't put my head in the sand any more.

"A minute ago I was so pissed at you. I wanted to hurt you. Bad." He slowly sat up but I kept my arm around his shoulder keeping him close. I might still want to pound the shit out of him. "The strange thing is...I wasn't thinking of what you had done to me or might have done to me.

"I was thinking of what you were going to put me through. I don't know that I could do that again. I've seen too many of them die. I don't want to see any more."

"I know. I knew someone who died of AIDS."

"Someone? Some one?" I was getting pissed again. I let go of him and poked him in the chest. "Listen, pal, I've lost half my fucking friends this way. Watching them waste away until they're only a grotesque caricature of what they used to look like, watching them lose control of their bodies and their minds. It's like looking at the picture of Dorian Gray deteriorate right in front of you.

"A couple of them I was with at the very end. Even when you know it's just a matter of minutes and the last gasp is going to be a release from all the misery and pain, it still rips your heart out."

I poked him again a little harder as my voice rose. "And these were 'just' my friends. If I had to do that for someone I was in love with, it would flat out kill me. I don't want a part of my life ripped out like that. Why the hell do you think I've been a fucking hermit all these years?"

Randy couldn't answer that question. He didn't know that the underlying motif of my life was fear. I talked a good game and whined about not finding the right guy, but the truth was when Mr. Right showed up, I sent him packing and made it look like his doing. Just so I wouldn't get hurt somewhere down the line.

He was still looking at me wide-eyed, expecting me to say more. But I was talked out. I didn't want to talk about this. I had carefully painted over the memories of Gary and Todd, trying to reverse the Dorian Gray images. And now those protective layers had been scraped away and I had to confront the grief again. It only reminded me of my own mortality.

Randy stood, brushed grass from his shorts and his hands. "Maybe we should go back," he said offering his hand to help me up. I ignored his hand.

"I wish we could."

We walked back in silence and apart. If we had extended our arms toward each other, there still would have been a yard between our fingertips. We wouldn't be trying that though. We each had our hands in our pockets, looking at the ground in front of us like we were searching for land mines. Had we stepped on one, it would have been just a mosquito bite compared to the explosion we'd just experienced.

We reached the end of the orchard and could see Mack outside the cathedral stoking the barbecue pit. Randy grabbed a peach and took a big bite before offering it to me. I took a bite from the other side. He noticed. The peach was still hard, not ripe and definitely not slurpy sweet yet.

"Needs more time on the tree," I said and handed it back to him.

"Too late for that now." He turned back toward the creek and tossed the peach, an outfielder's throw to his cutoff man. He looked up, his hands on his hips. I thought of a young Howard Roark. "There's a peach up near the top. It's going to ripen on its own up there, and one day it's going to fall. But if it's timing isn't just right, it's going to lie here on the ground unappreciated by anyone--except maybe the ants and the worms--until it just rots away.

"You've been around more than I have..."

"Hah! No kidding! I'm old enough to be your grandfather."

"No, you're not. That's another thing. You're too sensitive about your age. You're not old."

"Do the math, pal. If I started fucking around when I was sixteen and my kid started fucking around when he was sixteen...Well, this is where we'd be."

"Were you fucking around when you were sixteen?"

"Are you serious? Only 'fast girls' and sleazeballs were fucking around back then. Us 'good boys' were lucky if we could cop a feel on a date.

"Besides, I was busy fearing for my life when I was sixteen. A friend of mine was teaching me how to ride a motorcycle and I took a bad fall. Broke an arm and a leg. Had me laid up all summer. In the hospital, I remember my dad was stroking my hair--he never showed any sign of affection like that before--and he asked me, 'Does it hurt?'

"What a stupid question! I told him, 'Daddy, it hurts more than anything.' He kept petting my head, looked me straight in the eye and said, 'I want you to remember this. Remember how much you're hurting right now. Because when you're all healed up, I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life.' He said it so calmly that I knew he was telling the truth. 'If you ever scare me like this again...' He never said what would happen, but I was sure that I would be better off in a body cast for the rest of my life than whatever he had planned. I was a very good boy that year. And I slept with one eye open that summer just in case."

Randy was about to say something just as Mack spotted us and waved us over to the side of the cathedral. As we neared Mack who was fanning the coals with a newspaper, Randy asked, "Is that what you want to do to me? What your father threatened to do?"

I was going to tell him that was exactly what I wanted to do, but Mack cut off my answer. "You must be Randy. I'm Mack Stewart. The boys have been telling me all about you. Or at least what they think they know about you. Sounded to me like a cross between Adonis and Charles Atlas. For once, they weren't far off." The longer he talked and shook Randy's hand, the redder Randy got.

Mack turned to me. "He's a big boy. Can you handle him?"

"I don't know," I shrugged noncommittally. "Can I handle you?"

"Not in public. Not too much anyway."

Mack's eyebrows went up. "Oh, sounds like he might be able to keep up with you, Bob. In the meantime, you've got a couple of kids inside who are hoping you'll try to drown them. Don't do to good a job though. Eventually, Hank would notice they're not around anymore." What a nice way to say You've passed the test; now I want to talk to Bob.

Randy's smile was back. I wish he'd do that more often. I wanted to be able to remember it. "I promise I'll only fill their lungs halfway then." He shook hands again and started inside peeling off his shirt. He does know how to make an entrance.

"Welcome to the family," said Mack, waving his newspaper at him.

Randy paused at the open door. "Thanks." His smile went down a couple of notches.

"Trouble in paradise?" Mack asked. "The way you two were walking back here looked like you were visiting a cemetery. He makes a good first impression though. Is he going to stay around?"

I sighed deeply. "All of a sudden, Mack, we have issues. I just don't know." Mack proceeded to pump me for information and I gave it to him. I needed his take on things. I toned down Randy's story a bit so he "only" sounded like a champion-grade sleeparound. He still got the point I was most worried about.

"Time was, Bob, when a guy could sow his wild oats and occasionally there might be a good harvest or a bad harvest, depending on how much you looked forward to raising a child. Nowadays, instead of wild oats, it's more like Cadmus sowing the serpent's teeth. And instead of a 'bundle of joy', you're just as likely to meet the Grim Reaper himself."

He shook his head sadly mourning the new order of things. "The question is if it is the Grim Reaper you have to face, do you want to face him alone."

"I don't want to face him at all, Mack." For someone who is acutely aware of the aging process, that was a silly thing for me to say. Especially to someone like Mack who is the oldest in our crowd.

"Of course not. None of us wants to." There was just the slightest edge to his voice. "But we have to just the same. No matter how hard we try to hide, he still finds us. Then one day, he's right there in your mirror.

"When Eleanor was sick, despite knowing the reality of the situation, I still believed in my heart of hearts that she would come around and we'd be the same as before. It didn't matter at all what the doctors were telling me. It was denial at its best. I went to get her a glass of juice and when I came back, she was gone. But she left with a smile.

"If worse comes to worst, Bob, do you want to watch him, do you want to help him die?"

"No, of course not! How could you ask something like that?"

"And why wouldn't you?"

"I...he's...Because...because I love him." I should have said that with more conviction, but I sounded like I was confessing a sin.

"And have you told him?"

"Not exactly," I said sheepishly. I knew where he was going.

"Well, you'd better do it before he's gone from your life before he should be. I know you, Bob. You'd like to think you're an old-time Romantic with a capital 'R'. But you're not. You're only a self-delusional romantic with a small 'r'.

"Bob, Ozzie and Harriet are dead. Their age has passed and it won't be coming back." He grabbed my neck with more force than a seventy-year-old should have. "Time to wake up and smell the coffee. Or Randy's armpit. Whichever is closer. I imagine the latter would be more fun for you."

He smiled and pushed away from me. He looked at his watch. "You'd better get your bratwurst; they should be just about ready. I've got them boiling away in beer and butter just the way you like 'em. Oh, and I brought German potato salad too." That was the surprise he mentioned on the phone. He makes it better than Mama used to.

I pulled Mack into a hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I never could have had this talk with my dad. "Thanks, Mack. I'll get them."

"And...?"

"And I'll tell him." Mack turned his attention back to the coals, a knowing smile on his face.

Inside the cathedral it sounded like Saturday at the YMCA. How can four kids make so much noise? The three teenagers and Kevin were trying to unhorse each other yelling challenges and threats, and they were doing it in the buff. At the pool's edge I picked up a pair of wet gym shorts. In my best Mack Stewart voice--which still didn't reverberate the way his could--I yelled, "Whose. Are. These?"

All four stopped and looked in my direction. Even Randy and Shoe on the other side of the pool were watching. "I thought we had an understanding, fellas." Stick, who was riding Kevin's shoulders, started to speak, but Kevin dumped him and swam toward me.

It was Bill who spoke up. "Mr. Bob, the guys told me about the rule. I pretty much talked them into it. I'm sorry. We'll put 'em back on. Won't we, guys?" If Bill had any hair, it would have curled from the looks he was getting from Toby and Stick.

Kevin got out of the pool and he had his shorts on. "Well, at least one person here has some sense of modesty," I intoned, clapping him on the shoulder like the emperor congratulating his favorite gladiator.

"Uhh, hi, Bob." He seemed to have trouble meeting my gaze. "I've, uhh...well, I wanted to too, but I was kinda embarrassed." He leaned in and whispered, "I've got a hickey on my butt."

I gave him my best mock-disapproving look. "Reeeallly?" I dragged out. "Good for you! You've made some progress, haven't you?" I smiled broadly for him.

"Actually, a lot of progress," he beamed.

"Turn around. I wanna see." He protested and tried to get away but I already had my hands on his waistband. "Hold on to the front of your shorts." He turned and I exposed his butt. Sure enough, a big red raspberry glowed on his right cheek. I patted his butt and said, "That's a nice one. Looks like the one Randy gave me." I leaned in to whisper to him, "You coulda told 'em it's a birthmark and they'd be none the wiser. C'mon inside and help me get the brats. And you can tell me all about it. And grab a towel too," I warned.

And tell me he did, singing like a stool pigeon in a bad 1940's gangster movie. Between the apartment and Lake Lillian, my favorite part-timer apparently grew a set of balls to match the jawbreaker in his shorts. He didn't wait for Shoe to make the first move because he groped Shoe as soon as they hit the water.

"Well, maybe we were in the water fifteen minutes, but I don't think it was all that long. Next thing you know, we're back at his place and when I showed him your Tantric Handjob, he was like instantly hard. He lasted almost an hour the first time, but I went a minute ten." I'd never seen Kevin beaming like that. Amazingly, he wasn't blushing. "The second time, he went an hour and a half and when he popped, I thought he had passed out."

"So what are you gonna do today?"

He gave me a smile that would have eclipsed the sun. "I'm gonna try to get a hickey on the other side."

"So you guys are friends now?"

"We're working on that too. We've always been friendly to each other. Just not...close. But, yeah, I think we're gonna be alright."

"Good, because you'll spend more time being friends than you will making love. Just make sure you play it safe. You understand?" He nodded. "Now take the brats out to Mack. I'm gonna go embarrass Shoe now. And I've got to talk to Randy."

Shoe and Randy were still talking at poolside and seemed to be enjoying each other's company. Except for the fact that they weren't touching--hell, they weren't even very close to one another--I still would have thought they were a couple. Randy's wet shorts hung lower on his slim hips which just helped make him look taller. Shoe was just as tall as Randy, but not as wide. His dark hair was a good counterpoint to Randy's blondish hair.

"You know, if I could miniaturize you two, I'd have a salt and pepper shaker set any queen would be proud to own."

They both laughed and Shoe grabbed my hand and started working it like an old outdoor well pump. "I don't know what you told Kevin, but I'm sure as hell glad you did. Yesterday was really...intense. I thought I'd hurt myself at one point."

"That's what I hear. I'm just glad you guys could finally get past the prelims. And what about you two? Have you told Randy all about Mad Max?"

"Actually, Randy told me some stuff about Coach I hadn't heard before. We were both at one of his clinics a couple of summers ago. It seems Coach did some 'private coaching' with a couple of guys and one of 'em told his parents. I don't know how they covered up that story. He must have one hell of a lot of influence around here. More than I gave him credit for."

"He's basically a pompous ass," Randy threw in as he walked toward the house.

"Food will be ready in a few minutes," I told him but got only a noncommittal "Okay."

Shoe watched Randy walking away. "Too bad he's not going to school here." My stomach dropped somewhere around my shins. "He's a nice guy. And he really likes you."

"Yeah, I know." I watched him disappear up the stairs. "But I'm an asshole." It's old news, but it came as a surprise to Shoe.

Mack was rousting the kids out of the pool. What a surprise Bill was! The kid who looked like an Auschwitz survivor on the grocery store parking lot looked like a little fire plug without his baggy clothes. And he brought his own hose as well. Maybe it just looked bigger because he's so short.

The boys had dried themselves and wrapped themselves in their towels which would double as full-body napkins. Only Bill had put his shorts back on first. I was still standing apart from them and feeling unusually serene. Mack had said Welcome to the family. Now my mental photo album was quickly filling with family photos. Big smiles, arms reaching for mustard or passing a bowl, exposed ribs getting jabbed, Mack frowning. It was just so beautiful. This was as close as I was going to get anymore to having a family. I want to share this with someone at my side.

After a few minutes Randy appeared looking like a runway model. He had on his khakis, penny loafers without socks and that same faded orange shirt I had first seen him in. I wanted him more than ever, and the same butterflies I had when I first saw him had returned.

"Hey, how come you're dressed up?" asked Toby, barely keeping a mouthful of potato salad actually in his mouth.

"I have to go in a little while," he said flatly as he took a solitary bratwurst from Mack.

"Bob?" Mack asked.

"I will," I said and immediately wondered if I'd answered some other question that he hadn't asked. Randy didn't sit down to eat. I walked to him close enough to be in his personal space. He kept chewing but his eyes looked wary. I had trouble getting the words out.

"Wh...where...are you going."

He looked at the table and then gave me a sidelong glance and said, "Home" in a "What's it to you?" voice.

I looked to Mack for help. I got raised eyebrows and a "Do it!" look. Everyone had stopped talking and was watching us, wondering what was going on. And Randy looked even more warily at me. He was past the halfway point with the bratwurst. I cleared my throat and prayed I would be able to get through this without breaking up.

"Don't go, Randy. Please. I want you to stay here. With us." Maybe a little "group guilt" would work on him. "Mack has already made you part of the family, so you have to stay."

He didn't buy into it. "Why should I? Somewhere down the road you'd only tell me to leave."

"And you might tell me that you're leaving. Kind of a crapshoot either way, isn't it? Looks like we both have to take a chance. I only know that I don't want you to leave. What can I do to convince you to stay?"

"I dunno. You're the expert on relationships, not me."

"Hmmphf! And we've already covered that, haven't we? We both know my track record, so I'm not going to rely on that. But we can start off with a relatively clean slate. Look, pal, I can't promise you anything, 'cuz I don't have a clue what's going to happen to either of us.  We might have the longest run together since The Fantasticks, and it might be over tomorrow.  Hell, I might get hit by a goddam bus."

"They don't run this far out," he said and smiled, but I ignored the interruption.

"We've both got a lot to learn.  And we've got a lot to unlearn. I think we'd be a good fit for either situation. I'll be honest with you. I'm scared shitless. I want to go down this road again, but I don't want to go if it's not with you. Something tells me there's not another you out there. The question is...Do you want to go down that road with me?"

He walked to the table, picked up a paper napkin from the stack and wiped his mouth and hands. "If you start snoring, can I poke you in the ribs?"

"Babe, as long as you don't use a cattle prod, you can poke me anywhere you want."

He crumpled the napkin into a ball as he looked at the ceiling. "I think maybe a trial period would be a good way to go, don't you? We live together for a while and if everything seems to be working, we continue it. Kinda like a drivers license."

"How long a trial period were you thinking of?"

Now he grinned like he'd just gotten a pony for his birthday. "Oh, I was thinking maybe five or ten years would be a good trial period.  Then we could try it for another five or ten.  And if..." I didn't give him a chance to finish that sentence.  I gave him the kiss that's still number one on my list and I was trying my damnedest to make sure it was number one on his list too.

When we undocked, we both gasped for air. He held my head in his hands and whispered so I only I could hear. "And if I...get sick..."

I put my fingertips to his mouth to silence him. "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. And we'll burn it together."

"I'll be honest with you. I'm scared too, Bob. If I...If it...happens, promise me you won't leave? Even if you're still there with me?" I knew what he meant. I've seen it happen with others. A partner stays with his lover, but his love doesn't. It gets pushed out by bitterness and rage and hopelessness.

"I promise, Randy. Cross my heart and...Well, I promise."

He ignored my little faux pas and pushed my glasses up on my nose and smoothed out my hair like he was making me presentable for my first date. "Then I'll stay for a while." He pulled my face to his and I wrapped my arms around him. This kiss was going to go off the charts and be in a category by itself. For a moment I heard "oh's" and "ah's" from the table, but they went away somewhere. I lost my life in the rhythm of his heart.

"Hey, you two, get a room!" Oh Christ! Hank was back already. "There are children in the room, y'know." He had his hands over Toby's eyes and Toby was squirming free to see if he had missed anything.

"It's okay, Hank, we were just going."

Hank was grinning ear to ear.  Evidently he liked the show too. "You're kidding. I just got here. Where you guys going?" As if he couldn't figure it out.

We answered together. "Home."