FRIDAY EVENING, 15 MARCH. KEN Z’S BEDROOM.
OSCAR: Feeling all right, Ken Z?
ME: Honestly, Oscar? N. O.
OSCAR: What’s the matter? Aren’t you excited? All you did all day was stroll among the clouds.
ME: I don’t think he’s going to show up.
OSCAR: But that’s not possible. Maybe he’s just late. Again.
ME: That’s an understatement.
OSCAR: What is it with people in North Kristol and their lateness?
ME: You’d think they’d be more punctual, right?
OSCAR: Well, it is a Friday. The tunnel is probably congested.
ME: True. Still, that’s no excuse.
OSCAR: I say you give him one demerit when he shows up.
ME: Make that two.
OSCAR: Yes, laugh it off. That’s the spirit.
ME: This whole thing is getting weirder and weirder. I haven’t seen him in five days. You’d think the feeling would diminish by now—
OSCAR: But?
ME: But it’s still there, following me around like an extra shadow.
OSCAR: He must be very special to you, Ken Z.
ME: Just not sure if he feels the same.
OSCAR: I beg your pardon?
ME: One Zap out of the week, Oscar, compared to my thirty thousand?
OSCAR: Dear child, don’t reduce your feelings to numbers. And stop analyzing the future. Let it happen. Leave room for surprises.
ME: How?
OSCAR: By being your charming self. The Ken Z that he met and adored.
ME: Be myself?
OSCAR: You have no choice, dear boy. Everyone else is already taken.