VERN

THE SNOW MELTED in one hot day. The world is flooded. I had to carry Sophie across the gutter, so she wouldn’t be covered in mud. She decided the synagogue in Providence was too liberal for her tastes. So twice a week, I have to haul her to Boston to Hebrew school. It’s not bad when Walter comes, though. Like today, we’re hanging out in Brookline at Sumo Sushi, where plates of sushi float by on a canal and you grab what you want.

“I’ve got to do something about Cassandra.” I grab a plate of octopus. “She’s so persistent. She can’t get it into her brain that someone on the planet doesn’t want to be with her. Like Saturday; she begged me to go to the island, and I was feeling so bummed, I went. She packed a lunch, disgusting bologna sandwiches with yellow mustard—yellow, Walter—warm Cokes, and stale cookies that made me incredibly depressed.”

“Why would cookies make you depressed?”

“It’s just that...” I feel like I’m going to cry. “I’ve had better.”

He grabs a plate of futomaki. “Want some?”

“You’re a bottomless pit today.”

“I’m in a good mood.”

“Why are you in a good mood?”

“I got into Berkeley.” Walter gives a rare smile.

“That’s awesome! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“San Francisco, here I come.”

“Man! Dinner’s on me.”

“It was gonna be on you, anyway.”

“Well, on my dad. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“You are destined for greatness.”

“I suspect that greatness entails misery, like those singers in the old days who had to cut off their balls in order to preserve their high voices.”

“What were they called?”

“Castrati. Besides, my intellect is part of my pathology.”

“Thinking you have a pathology is part of your pathology.”

“Is that a riddle or a tongue twister? So... Cassandra. Bad cookies, bad news. Yellow mustard. What happened next?”

“She tugs me behind this fort on the beach and she goes, ‘Let’s do it.’”

“How did it feel?”

“How did it feel?”

“Being offered the golden key by Cassandra Parks?”

“Like a glacier. An iceberg. Like I was the Titanic hitting an iceberg.”

“Too many metaphors! You’re gonna blow one of my circuits.”

“But... an opportunity comes, you know, and I... blow it.”

“An opportunity?”

“Yeah, to do it, to figure out how to do it.”

“To figure out?” He laughs.

“To break in, to learn the ropes.”

“Stop while you’re ahead.”

“Yeah, okay. That’s what I did.”

“You stopped?” Walter grabs a California roll.

“I said, ‘I like to get to know a person a little better before I, you know, do it.’”

“Sounding like...”

“. . . the virgin I am. Okay, yeah. This is torture to even talk about. And don’t mention it to anyone because it’s, you know, not exactly cool to talk about your sex life even if you don’t like the girl.”

“Who am I going to tell? My mommy? Try some of this.”

“Talking about this makes me lose my appetite.”

“But you’re still taking Cassandra to the prom. Right?”

“Yeah, I’m so excited I think I’ll move to Afghanistan.”

“You know what your problem is?”

“What?”

“You love another.”

“That’s it?”

“It may sound old-fashioned, but sexual excitement does tend to accompany emotional attachments like love, or at least like. It would be like Roger Willis presenting his bare butt to me. Know what I would do...?”

“Do we have to talk about Roger? That is a nauseating image.”

“I would hurl. Because I hate the bastard. Like you say... nauseating. And you are pretty much using Cassandra as a substitute for Sage. Bad cookies for good cookies. Now if someone I was attracted to presented his—”

“I get the point, Walter. Let’s not go there.”

“You don’t accept me?”

“I accept you. Okay? We’re here. We’re friends. I just don’t think we need details about male-to-male relationships. That does not turn my crank.”

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. You kept me from hanging myself with Twizzlers. Remember?”

“The Twizzlers wouldn’t have held your weight. Not the way you had them knotted. And the basketball hoop would’ve broken. It’s not like I rescued you from a burning building.”

“You saved me when I was getting beat up.”

“I tripped the breaker. I’m a regular Messiah.”

“So...”

“So forget about it.”

“Sage’ll come around. She will.”

“It’s not right. Me with Cassandra. Sage with Roger. It’s like black and white making red.”

“Or fuchsia, a much more interesting color.”

“Just do me a favor.”

“Sure.”

“Look out for Sage. Because she hasn’t come near me since that creep arrived, and I have my hands full with Cassandra. You watch out for Sage.”

“Will do. I’ll watch her like a hawk. I won’t let you down.”