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but he doesn’t seem to be into it.”
    “Actually, a space alien would probably be great. He’s big into
X-Files.
”
    “Really.” Billy means this as a shot of disapproval, quick enough to be undiscussable. “By the way, if it’s any comfort, remember that I only played with boys when I was his age.”
    “Come on,” she says. “I was only kidding. I’m not a total right-winger.”
    “No comment. But if you want to know, my special faggot radar hasn’t picked up any queer vibes from him.”
    “Stop.”
    “So you’ve seen enough? I mean, there he is. So you know I wasn’t bullshitting you about his being alive and well. Or do you want to take this to the next level?”
    Cassie hasn’t taken her eyes off of Deke. “No,” she says. She closes her eyes. “I’ve got to get back. I’ve got to get the damn
car
back.”
    He walks her over and opens her door. She stands there, still looking at the playground. “It’s weird being here,” she says. “That has to be the same jungle gym. How can you stand it?”
    He shrugs. “See, I’m so used to it now that it seems weird I ever thought it was weird.”
    “Then you
are
in deep shit.”
    A bell rings, and kids start racing for the door.
    “You sure you don’t want to stop by the house for a second?” he says. “See how it feels?”
    “No. You’re really creeping me out, Billy. I mean, I don’t mean to judge you.”
    “Yeah, God forbid. So I’m still not clear on when exactly … you know.”
    “Me either. But I definitely plan to be home before Christmas.”
    “Okay, that gives me some idea. Speaking of which, I guess we should plan to do a celebration. It’s kind of down to the three of us.”
    “Definitely. Well, we’ll talk, okay? I really better hit it.” She turns the key in the ignition, then stops. “Billy? Wouldn’t you even
consider
moving to Boston?”
    “I’m always up for considering. But you mean would I? I doubt it. I’ve
had
the urban experience.” Diplomatic of him, not going into New York versus second-rate cities.
    “I was just thinking, we could sort of be a family. I mean, not that we’re not, but—”
    “Until your next beau comes along.”
    “You might find a beau, too, you know. The odds are a lot better in a place like Boston.”
    “Do I
want
a beau?”
    “Don’t you?”
    “I think I’m suffering from beau burnout.”
    “Then I guess you’re in the right place.” Cassie starts the engine.
    “Gee, sounds like the last lifeboat’s going over the side,” Billy says.
    “If you weren’t so smart—”
    “With Leonardo DiCaprio waving me a wistful goodbye.”
    “—you’d be a lot better off.” She looks back at the now empty schoolyard. “At least in the short run.”
    “Is there any other run?” Billy says. “I mean in the long run?”
    On Saturday morning they stop at the car wash as a way of making their trip to Boston an occasion; in Billy’s real life, a clean car is just more middle-class crap-o-rama. Going through with Deke reminds him of how exciting he used to find it: the King Lear hurricanoes driving against the windshield, the giant whirling brushes at the front and sides, the mysterious rubber fringe as you enter the region of winds and bright lights, then sadly out into the world again. Billy drops quarters into the vacuum and lets Deke do his own side—and doesn’t criticize when Deke only rubs the mouth back and forth across a single patch of floor.
    Then they stop at CVS to pick up the pictures; if there’s a decent one of Deke, he’ll buy a Lucite frame and leave it on Cassie’s night table. But when he opens the envelope, all twenty-four prints show nothing but brownish murk. Last stop is Hojo’s: breakfast here eventually might’ve become a little tradition, and maybe to Deke it already is. But he has to say, the kid’s being a pain in the ass this morning. Complains they never made the pumpkin pie like Billy
promised.
Wants the pancakes but wants the oatmeal too,