“I bet you would, you bastard.”

We walked into the living room. Gene went to one of the shelves and plucked down a book and handed it to me. It was called A Fan’s Notes, by an author named Frederick Exley. I’d never read it or even heard of it before.

“Been meaning to give this to you. One of my very favorites,” Gene said. “It’s a book any aspiring writer can appreciate, as it’s more or less about an alcoholic madman trying to be a writer himself. Might give you a little shove in the right direction. The man was an amazing writer, and terribly deranged.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Are you saying I’m deranged?”

“What would give you that idea?” Gene said with a grin.

“Just making sure.”

I flipped the book over and read the synopsis on the back. Sure, why not, I thought. Since I had gotten serious about writing again, I did in fact yearn for some validation that my own attempt wasn’t being done, and besides, in vain, that I wasn’t merely staring up the ass of a dead dog with fleas. And besides, I had always found inspiration from books about writers. I tucked it under my arm to take it with me.

“Have you seen Carolyn today?”

“Afraid not. Why?”

I shook my head. “She got off work at two and isn’t answering her phone. I don’t know where she is. She usually lets me know when she’s going to be late,” I said, slightly irritated, partly from Carolyn, partly from my father’s letter having arrived at my new address, leaving in its wake a bad taste in my mouth. I looked at Gene. He was fidgeting, working his hands together, gripping one and then the other, and it was then that I discovered the chink in Gene’s armor. This man, despite surviving three tours of duty in Vietnam and the death of his wife and child, and who appeared calm and confident every time I’d ever been around him, was uneasy in the company of women. Or at the very least, at the prospect of going on a date with one.

“You nervous?” I asked.

“A little bit.”

“Really? I thought it’d get easier with age.”

“Hell no, it gets harder. I’m sixty-one. I haven’t been on a date in three years.”

“Well, you look rather dapper. That’s half the battle.”

“Thank you.”

“Ask lots of questions, and listen to her answers. The key to a good date is to let her do most of the talking, and then to react to what she says so that it encourages her to talk more. If she thinks you’re interested, she’ll relax, grow confident, and be more willing to share.”

“You sure?”