They were drinking beer from small glasses, the kind that were thin and broke easily. His father’s glass had a jagged wedge out of it and he was cut and bleeding into his beer but didn’t seem to notice. Clement said nothing. He felt it would be foolish to express concern when his father had none. There was a weird duality about Clement. He seemed to be about the age he was now and simultaneously around fourteen. They’d been playing tennis, he saw now. He was dressed in tennis whites and there was a racquet on the concrete stoop. ‘One day you’ll find someone,’ his father said. ‘But I have, I’m married to Marilyn.’ His father looked him deep in the eyes and shook his head. Clement was gripped with the same panic as that first time in the swimming pool but before he could ask for an explanation his father was gone and Bill Seratono was there. Bill was dressed as if for some caving expedition with ropes and a little helmet with a headlamp and possessed of the same duality as Clement where he was both young and old at the same time.
