Settling into the front seat of my truck on Friday morning, Caddy seemed subdued, an unfamiliar shyness in the look she gave me as she fastened her seatbelt. As we drove away I realized my failure to respond to her glance had caused her mood to swing to sadness, then toward what seemed like irritation. She was staring straight ahead, arms folded as if to stifle a sudden chill. “I’m sorry,” I said. She glanced at me and said, “For what?” “I meant to call when I got home last night.” She produced a tissue, blew her nose. “Just as well you didn’t. You wouldn’t have got an answer.” I reached across and caught her hand. She didn’t resist, but closed her fist around the tissue. “Have you ever wondered,” I said, “how our lives would have been if we hadn’t been so gullible, way back when?” “Gullible?” “Yes. I was anyway. Taking everything literally, about sex and girls. I was amazed to find out later in life how many of us were just having a grand old time while I was struggling to be proper.”
