That Friday Rex and Jim came in alone, and then not till after ten. Fourteen out of fifteen alleys were rented out and bustling with recreational business. All you could hear was the constant roll of bowling balls over wood, through pins, then the boys out in back heaving them down the chute, all at different times and paces. That and the high-pitched yahoo of an occasional winning wife all added up to my feeling jumpy. When perfectly fine people paid for shoes, I gave them their change with hardly a word, never mind a smile. Today, with the benefit of hindsight, I see that I was living one of my first premonitions-no, that word is too supernatural, melodramatic-I was feeling the current of my true flow, or at least sensing where the river was, and that alone was enough to throw me; suddenly, at least that night, my living in Paris seemed about as likely as Guitar Jimmy walking over to start up a conversation.

Then he did. And I felt better and worse all at once.

“Feel like renting me and Rex some bowling shoes?”

“Shoot, you fellas never bowl.” Or something cowgirl swift like that!

Guitar Jimmy shrugged, then he smiled right at me, those deer eyes honing in on me at the same time they were staying put. I squatted behind the counter to rummage for shoes but I hadn’t asked sizes. Then I heard his voice right over my head. I looked up, and there was his face at the counter’s edge.

“Ten wide for me. Give Rex nines, I think.” His face popped out of sight and I knew right then was my only chance of the evening, what with Rex off in the bathroom or wherever.

I stood up with the shoes. “Saw you in a black Buick t’other day.”

He looked for a moment like he didn’t know what a Buick was. Then he smiled. “Oh. Yep.”

“They let you use it whenever you want?”

He shook his head.

“That’s fine, we can walk.”

He smiled again. “Where will we walk to?”

“The moving pictures? Tomorrow night? Oliver Twist is playing.”

Rex came up to the counter then. He was a long-nosed young man with eyes close together. Without Toby around he seemed fairly tame. He waved at me, even though I was standing right there. I looked at Guitar Jim, waiting for his next word so that my wildly stalled heart could start up again.

“Till then, I suppose.” He took both pairs of shoes and walked off to the alleys with Rex. I treated myself to a deep breath and a trip to the ladies’ room.

Leo kept his finger on the page. He reached into the pile and turned over the pictures until he found one with his mother in it. It was one of the New York City photos, Jim and Katie Faye in that alley. But in this one, instead of laughing they were kissing, and Katie Faye’s hand was raised to her cheek like she was trying to catch her hat that was half-covering her face but Jim’s arms had her locked in and so were their lips.