He told us to wake him up at five o’clock, and then, to remind us, he pinned a note to his pants: WAKE ME AT 5 PM. His handwriting was astonishing. Large capital letters with heavy serifs. It was just after two o’clock, so we went down to Smathers Beach. On the way there we saw a man selling coconuts out of his truck. I bought one because I wanted to see him shave it open with a machete, the way I’d seen it done in movies. Instead he drilled two holes in the husk with a dirty quarter-inch bit and handed me a straw. It was delicious. Azar was trying to cheer me up. “We can do whatever you like,” he said. “Is there something else you want to do?” “The beach is good.” “You know that I don’t ever mean to trivialize your worries.” “I know. You’re a good guy. I should tell you sometime how much you mean to me.” “You should. But anyway, I was proud of you when you were one of those clipboard guys! I was proud you forced yourself to do it, even though you were so poorly suited to the job.”
