Peter blushed. John was beside himself, unable to take his eyes from Peter’s scalp, which had been buzzed to a nub.

   “What possessed you after all these years?”

   Peter shrugged. “I got tired of the maintenance.”

   “What – a comb?”

   He laughed. “The humidity was giving me absurd curls. I couldn’t stand it any more. I guess I was desperate for change, too. And my luck has changed since. I started dating Lori and I started selling more books.”

   “Men, especially your age, would kill for a head of hair like that.”

   “That’s exactly what my sister said.”

   John tilted his head downward. “Look at mine. I’m goin’ the way of my father, and I’m not even fifty.”

   “Not much gray, though. People used to accuse me of dippin’. My long black hairs covered almost all the gray. That’s one drawback. The plusses outweigh the minuses, though. It’s great to be able to put a damp head on a pillow and not have to worry about my hair lookin’ like a bad toupee when I get up.”

   Peter was 56. He’d always looked at John as a little brother. Although 10 years had passed since they’d seen each other in the flesh, time had not diminished the bond between them. They’d communicated sporadically by snail mail and now electronically, usually when Peter had a story or article published.

   “I can’t believe you’ve been married twenty years already.”

   John rolled his eyes heavenward. “The twins’ll be teenagers their next birthday.”

   Peter was stunned. “Wow.”

   He’d seen them only once in person. He cherished the pictures Vera sent each Christmas. He’d taped one to the door of his refrigerator, his “Hall of Fame.” He felt he wasn’t a good friend. He was surprised John, who had to be anxious to get home to his loved ones, had agreed to meet.

   “How ‘bout Starbucks?” said John, nodding in the direction of the storefront.

   “Good a place as any. I feel out of place anywhere in Manhattan, being a conservative.”

   “We won’t tell anybody.”

   John ordered latte, Peter juice. They found a table in a corner.

   “So how’re sales?” said John.

   “Embarrassing. Almost two hundred after four years. I had a burst recently. I sold out my inventory. I haven’t bought any since I started dating Lori.”

   “This must be serious.”

  Peter nodded. “Yeah. I never thought she’d give in, especially after readin’ the book. I was sure that’d scare her off for good.”

   “What’re you worried about? Marriage is a piece of cake.”

   Peter recalled John having said the same 20 years ago. It was in such stark contrast to how the men at work spoke of marriage. They called him smart for having remained single. They had no idea how lonely bachelorhood was for some men. He’d had to keep himself busy to avoid falling into a negative mindset.

   “It’s not like she’s young,” said John. “She’s what – forty?”

   “Forty-one.”

   “Are you that afraid of givin’ up your freedom?”

   Peter smiled wistfully and shook his head. “I never really took advantage of it other than to get a lot of writing done. The highlight of my day was the peanut butter chocolate dip bar I have every mornin’ at breakfast. I don’t know if you can call standing on street corners, hawking an uncommercial novel, freedom. I did it because I didn’t have anything better to do. A sane person would’ve given up long ago.”

   “Baloney. The book’s great.”

   “Your opinion is biased. I never get any feedback from strangers who buy it. I always leave them my web address. Actors are one of the few groups the book’d appeal to. I wish you and Vera were still doin’ shows. I would’ve tried sellin’ the thing at those little theaters, where people might be interested in serious work. Most readers want action, events from the start. They’re not interested in the murky realm of the psyche. Speakin’ of which – no, you’re too young to remember.”

   John leaned forward, caressing his coffee cup. “Tell me anyway.”

   “It’s so strange. I was in the old neighborhood and this lady came up to me and asked about the book. She bought one. I asked her name. She said: ‘Lorraine,’ and somethin’ clicked. I looked at her face, past the big sunglasses she had on. “I said: “Wait, I know you. You lived in Chucky Guerreri’s house in the mid sixties.”

   John chuckled. “Chucky.”

   “She was blown away. ‘Oh, my God, what a memory,’ she said. She didn’t look much different, though. She looked forty. She had a brace on her forearm. She’s takin’ Tae Kwan Do. ‘I’m the oldest kid in the class,’ she said. You don’t remember her, do you?”

   “Nah.”

   “You couldn’t’ve been more than five at the time. We used to abuse the hell out of her, at least Chucky and your brothers did. You know how hormones warp adolescent males. They her ‘Skeeve.’ That may’ve been because of her parents, though. Rumor had it her mother ‘killed her baby.’” Peter described quotation marks. “I guess she had an abortion back then when it was illegal, when we thought it was the worst thing somebody could do and not just a routine medical procedure.” His voice cracked. “Anyway, your brothers, Chucky and me had a falling out, and to get back at me they painted a huge heart in the middle of the street with ‘Peter & Skeeve’ written inside it.’”

   John chuckled and shook his head. “That sounds like them, all right.”

   “It stayed there for years. I never said a word about it. I had to be superior, you see. Maybe that’s why they were always so pissed at me.”

    “You have the least airs of anyone I’ve ever met. Then again, I spent almost all my time around actors for thirty years.”

   They laughed. Peter was surprised that John did not appear to miss acting at all. The bit part he’d had on The Sopranos had not opened the door to more roles. He envied John’s positive mindset.

   “I wish we could look at our past on video tape.”

   “Most male adolescents’d come off as jerks.”

   “I was relieved we hadn’t driven Lorraine to suicide. I’d wondered what became of her. I was glad she survived all that. In fact, she didn’t seem damaged at all. I was thinking: By rights she should be spittin’ at me, and here she is buyin’ the book. Life is strange.”

   John waved a hand dismissively. “She’s probably been through a few relationships and kids. She probably even has grandkids by now.”

   Peter experienced a sense of guilt. One of the twins had had open-heart surgery as an infant and, only weeks later, John had had his cancerous thyroid removed. Peter hadn’t found out until at least a year had passed. They were the type of familial matters that drove lesser memories from the mind.

   “I know. Ego blinds you sometimes. I was sure it was makin’ me see an interest in Lori’s eyes that wasn’t really there.”

   “Then again, you’re together now.”

   “That’s a long story we’d need days to cover. Anyway, Lorraine was sweet on me back then. She tried to give me a pair of cuff links on my thirteenth birthday. I ran around like an idiot, blowing her off, as if the gift box was contaminated. Your brothers and Chucky got a big kick out of it. They were howlin’. The other girls on the block said they’d never speak to me again. I must’ve really hurt her feelings. Of course, we don’t realize the damage we do at that age. I wondered if she remembered me and wasn’t letting on.”

   “Chances are you were only vaguely familiar to her. Maybe she’ll burn the book when she remembers.”

   They laughed and fell silent, sipping their drinks.

   “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” said John. “I thought you wanted some marital hints.”

   Peter paused, innards contracting. “No. I do need advice, but it’s about somethin’ sordid from my past.”

   “Oh, good. “ John leaned forward eagerly, elbows on the table.

   Peter experienced a familiar urge, one that had visited him frequently since he’d begun dating Lori. Recalling what he’d done, he wanted to ram his fist into a nearby computer screen.

   “I don’t know if you’ll remember this. I always question if my memory is truly good or if my brain just has less experiences archived than normal people.”

   John sniffed. “Normal?”

   “You know you are, just like the three couples who were my closest friends in college. You all got life right. I can’t tell you how much I respect that. Before Lori, I was thinkin’ I’d gotten it all wrong. Now I have a chance to get it right, although I don’t know that I deserve it.”

    “Who more than you?”

   “She deserves a guy her own age, not somebody who may be a burden in a few years.”

   “You have the body of a thirty-year-old. She can’t do better than you. You’re Peter the rock.”

   Peter tapped lightly at his head with his knuckles. “Knock on wood. Every time I look in the mirror I don’t know how any woman could love me.”

   “Still with that?”

   He looked away. “I know – it’s boring. I think that was one of the reasons I cut my hair, though. I’d given up. I wasn’t worried about comin’ off as a nut or a convict. That’s all bull, anyway. I’m worried that if Lori learns about somethin’ I did she’ll lose all respect for me. I’m wonderin’ if I should bring it up now so she won’t be steamrolled if it comes up in the future.”

   Puzzled, John knitted his eyebrows. “What could you’ve possibly done?”

   Peter looked around to see if anyone were eavesdropping. Although no one was within earshot and although this was Manhattan, where anything went, he spoke very softly. “I know you’ve played a lot of degenerates in your plays, but you’re nothin’ like that in real life, so I’m not sure you’d understand. I’m afraid you’ll lose respect for me.”

   “Never happen.”

   He avoided eye contact. “Fifteen years or so ago you mentioned in a letter that Steve Conti and his wife were swingin’.”

   John reflected a moment. “Oh, yeah,” he said with wonder. “You believe that? I’d completely forgotten it. I heard it from my cousin Cookie.”

   Peter lowered his gaze to the bottle of juice. “I was tryin’ to break into the same scene, solo, of course.” His eyes were forced shut by shame. “I took out some ads in a magazine, even put my picture in it, one of my face, another of my….” His voice trailed off, sentence unfinished.

   John’s eyes were spread with surprise. “What made you do that?”

   Peter shrugged. “Frustration, desperation, the desire to conquer fear. I wasn’t up to the hunt in singles bars, so I tried to take a no-bull short. I wanted to do promiscuity without guilt, honorably, if you will – as if there can be such a thing. I just didn’t have it in me to be ruthless sexually. I figured this way nobody’d get hurt or deceived, and I’d quickly make up for lost time.”

   “Makes sense, actually.”

   Peter’s eyes were glazed. “I suppose there was somethin’ inside me that was attracted to that stuff too, although it almost completely eliminates what’s human in sexuality. I could dig for motivations forever.”

   “The murky realm of the psyche.”

   Peter smiled briefly. “Of course, I regret it now. Those pictures gotta be out there somewhere.”

   “Don’t go into politics, and don’t accept any ‘Father or Husband of the Year’ awards.”

   He was too upset to laugh. “I can’t believe I put a picture of me in such a state in there. It’s what perverts do. My hand was shakin’ when I took the shots.” He pantomimed the action. “Only two of ‘em came out.”

   John roared, head flying back. Peter did not object. Had someone else said it, he would have laughed too. It was an action deserving of scorn, derision. “I felt like I was goin’ to hell. It makes me wonder if I would’ve been able to participate if I’d found an in. I regretted not having found one for years. Now I’m relieved.”

   “You might be dead.”

   “Or on an irreversible course of corruption.”

   “That stuff’s becomin’ more and more mainstream every day, though.”

   “God help us. That doesn’t make it right. Even though nothin’ ever came of it except some calls from people as pathetic sexually as me, I still feel I’ve forfeited any right to be a parent.”

   “No way. A kid couldn’t have a better father than you. Porn stars’ve redeemed themselves and come back to the mainstream and had kids. If they can, why can’t you – who’s never even done the things they have?”

   “I feel the same way about the one time I took LSD.”

   “If drugs eliminate you from parenthood, half our generation wouldn’t have kids.”

   “True. I’ve probably done fewer drugs than almost everybody. We have married people in their forties and fifties at work who’re still doin’ coke. You believe that?”

   “I think you took your Catechism too literally.”

   “That’s not it. I know plenty of Catholics who jumped head first into the sexual revolution. I think character is genetic.”

   John sat up straight. “By the way, you ever hook up with Peggy?”

   Peter smirked. She was memorable even to someone who’d never met her. “No. She gave me a real shot one day and I was too dense to realize it. Joanne from the block did too once, and I decided it could wait since I was just about to move out of the house. She liked it sordid and I didn’t pounce on it. I should’ve been shot. She’s been cold to me ever since, and she’s right.”

   “That story about Peggy was riveting.”

   “She actually wrote it. I edited it and added the intro. She doesn’t even know it’s out there. When the Towers went down I decided not to wait until we crossed paths to ask her permission to post it online. That’s why I used only her last initial. I couldn’t take credit for something that wasn’t mine or put her last name on something she might not want public. People don’t believe me when I say I didn’t write it.”

   “It’s definitely your style.”

   “Last time she wrote me it sounded like she was ‘born again.’ I got the feeling she wanted a complete divorce from her past.”

   “She’s married?”

   “Believe it or not.”

   “There you go. If she can, why can’t you?”

   Peter nodded, conceding the point. “I found her picture in the same magazine. At least she was smart enough not to go naked in it, although she was plenty hot enough in lingerie. I wonder if she was connectin’ that way or just shakin’ down the lonely and pathetic.”

   “Whatever. She came out of it. There’s no reason you can’t, especially when you were never really in it.”

   “I doubt people’ll believe I was never in it.”

   “Why care about what anybody but Lori thinks? And how d’you know she doesn’t have somethin’ sordid in her past?”

   “I know she doesn’t. She did….”

   He ground his teeth, feeling like a rat that the thought had even crossed his mind.

   “What?” said John, rapt.

   “A rich young jerk jilted her, and she wound up havin’ an abortion.” He fought back tears. “I’m afraid I’d throw that in her face if she found out about the pictures and said she was leaving me, although I know it’s base to draw moral equivalence between such things. And that’s another thing – if she’d chosen me back then when I was forty-seven, I would’ve had a lot more good years to give her. Our kids would’ve been in school by now, that much closer to bein’ able to fend for themselves. I feel like we missed our chance, that it’s too late now. If we have a kid I’m afraid I might forget where I left him – or her - like I forget where I parked the car. I might fall asleep babysittin’.”

   John chortled. “Tell me about it.”

   “And you’re eight years younger than me. It’s insane, absurd. We’d have to hire a nanny for me and the kids. And what if the kid has physical, emotional or psychological problems? Would I be able to handle it at my age? The other day I took a walk to Manhattan Beach. At the far corner this kid – he had to be sixteen or so – was tightropin’ the railing, showin’ off to some girls. I was afraid he’d fall and kill himself on the rocks, even though the railing was flat and about six inches wide. And I got to thinkin’ I was just like my mother.”

   John laughed.

   “How would I react if it was my kid? I’d have a heart attack.”

   “You’d really try to have one?”

   “If a girl like Lori went childless it’d be a harbinger for the end of civilization. I really believe that.”

   In the ensuing silence, the sounds of the others about them were suddenly obvious.

   “I can’t ask what you’d do in my place,” said Peter, rotating the bottle of juice clockwise between his fingers. “You’re too grounded to put yourself in a situation like this. But what d’you think I should do? Should I tell her?”

   “No. You might kill the relationship. If it doesn’t come out for years you’ll have a bond that’ll get you through it. And there’s a good chance it’ll never come out.”

   “You’re probably right. I guess my ego still expects to achieve literary fame, which’ll have reporters diggin’ for dirt, especially since I’m a conservative.” Peter shook his head in frustration. “Sometimes I think my mind comes up with this stuff because I’m terrified a marriage of mine’ll be as sour as those of the rest of my family and most of the others you see. I’d be easier to sabotage it from the start, to live with the pain of bein’ alone. I was feelin’ so useless a few months back that I was thinkin’ I should be in Iraq, where I might do some good. After all, I’m single. Married men are dyin’ there. I don’t have the reflexes and stamina for combat any more, but there’s no reason I couldn’t drive a supply truck.”

   “That’s crazy.”

   “I disagree. It’s a heroic fight. We – I – enjoy the fruits of liberty without ever having made any of the sacrifices it requires. I haven’t even contributed any children to society.”

   “You go to work. You pay taxes. You obey the law. You coached high school football for free. You do more than your share. You can’t let one negative dominate all the positives in your life.”

   “Maybe it is just an excuse to stay alone. Maybe I’m so afraid of not bein’ able to have sex after all this time that I’m lookin’ to abort.”

   He was aghast at his choice of words. Although he believed abortion was heinous, he loved Lori. He hated the sin, not the sinner. He feared she would hate both him and his sin.

   “Relax, you’ll make it.”

   “That’s what I’ve stayed in shape for all these years. I do puzzles to stay sharp mentally because I’m scared Alheimer’s’ll get me like it got my poor mom.”

   “There’s always Viagra.”

   Peter did not laugh. “It’s not the physical part I’m worried about. Every woman I’ve ever been with told me to ‘Relax.’ I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. It might be a big turnoff for Lori. And everybody at work knows she had an abortion. Will they know if I can’t make it?”

   “You’ll be fine. It’s practice, like everything else. Meanwhile, how ‘bout those Mets? Why don’t we take in a game?”

   He sensed he’d worn John out. He feared he’d come off as just another baby boomer whining about minor problems that paled in comparison to the serious ones of life. “That’s probably the biggest change in me. I went from a sports fanatic to hardly watchin’ at all. I’d rather see the highlights on the late news than sit through all those commercials and crass hijinks.”

   “Really?”

   “The only thing that matters in sports to me is my next golf shot, and I even exaggerate the importance of that. What difference does it make what I shoot, really? I’ll go to a game – if the players’ union gives me five hundred dollars cash. I’ll watch one on TV for a hundred. I’ll take a hundred a week to wear stuff with logos. Why should I advertise for them for free? That won’t get me published. I’d rather be out hawkin’ the book. I’d rather be anywhere with Lori. I’ve wasted enough time in my life. At one point I could’ve said sports saved me, then all of a sudden it didn’t work any more. The computer, music, my DVD subscription, golf kept me sane these past few years. Now I have Lori.”

    “I would’ve never believed you’d turn away from sports. At least you know you’re capable of change. You’re worryin’ too much about marriage.”

   “There’s no equivalence. Marriage is everything. Watchin’ sports is almost nothin’.”

   John glanced at his watch. “I gotta get goin’. The in-laws are comin’.”

   Peter wondered if he’d made John uncomfortable, forced him to a premature exit.

   They hugged just outside the entrance.

   “Keep sendin’ the stories and articles,” said John, backing away. “I love ‘em. And let me know how everything turns out.”

   Peter smiled sadly. He walked to the subway as if in a daze. Although he knew John’s advice was sound, he was unsure what to do.