11.

Tuesday September 16.

Driving to work the next morning was a horror show.

In fact, the show hadn’t stopped since Allison had confronted me the night before. After she’d gone to bed, I’d listened to all the voice messages. It had taken me two hours. Seven of them had been from old high school friends, “like-ables” as I’d thought of them, asking how I was doing, what-ever-happened-to Steven type stuff, and did I want to get together for a beer some time? The Principal of Irondale wondering if Steven would speak at the upcoming graduation ceremony? Charlene Green, Steven’s high school fantasy girl, had called, asking where Steven lived and could I call her back and give her his phone number? A producer, Jerry Simon, from Hollywood Tonight had called, wanting to interview me. It had been the worst sleep of my life—Allison had been crying silently in the bed beside me, tossing and turning, and the messages had fired me with such fear and adrenalin that I couldn’t come down far enough to sleep. I felt as if I’d been bingeing on crack all night.

But when I opened the front door to head out to the car, my stomach hit the floor.

Apparently, the Men in Black had come to pay me a visit.

“Mr. Love, my name is Agent Smith,” (You’ve got to be fucking kidding!) “and this is also Agent Smith.” (I’m not kidding, these were really their names). Badges were flashed at me.

“We’re agents of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. I’m going to have to ask you to accompany me to answer some questions. We have already contacted your employer to let him know that you’ll be a little late for work today.”

I was stunned. I stood there, paralyzed with fear and disbelief. The words that came out of my mouth surprised me. “Bye honey, have a nice day,” I called back behind me.

Allison’s muffled voice called out from the bathroom. It sounded like she said, “Shove it!”

It was going to be a wonderful day.