“What time is it in Australia? Sorry if I’m calling at a bad time. I just never know,” Stuart apologized. He called Robbie and JoJo all the time, like a lonely ex-girlfriend, checking in. He lived vicariously through their adventures in bachelorhood or felt smug about how comfortable his life was now, depending on what state they were in when he called them.

“Fuck if I know. I’m not in Australia. I’m in fucking Indonesia, man. Some island I can’t even fucking pronounce. The surf is outrageous and the food is too. I love it here. I’m like, growing tentacles, the water is so warm. It’s like a bath, like surfing in the fucking bath.” Robbie had an Australian accent now, which was sort of annoying since he was from Park Slope. Stuart kept waiting for him to break into his normal voice, but it had been years now, and he never did. He’d even cut an EP with a song called “G’day, Kanga” on it, featuring an Aboriginal musician playing the didgeridoo. It never made it to the American charts.

“If this is about us getting back together and playing Coachella, sorry dude, but I’ve got surfin’ to do.”

Stuart laughed. “You wish. Nope, just checking in. It’s my lunchtime and I’m not hungry, so I called you instead.” He twirled his chair around a few times. “Any news besides the waves?”

“Dude, that’s the thing. I am the wave.”

Stuart waited for Robbie to say something normal.

“How’s the wife?”

“Mandy is… worse, actually.” Stuart was never completely sure whether Robbie and JoJo liked Mandy or if they resented her. At some point he’d decided not to care either way. “She’s pretty bad.”

Dead silence.

“Hello?”

“I’m here, mate, I’m here. Christ,” Robbie swore. “I am truly sorry.”

“It’s all right. I just feel bad for her. And Ted.” This wasn’t completely true. He liked being the able parent, the caregiver, going out for ice cream cones together and teaching Ted how to skateboard. Ted seemed to like it too. Mommy time had been reduced to first thing in the morning or at the end of the day, when Ted was only partially awake—the way Mandy was all the time—on the big bed in the kitchen.

“Hey, has she tried medical marijuana? It’s supposed to really help. Not that I’d have any idea, having never touched the stuff myself.”

Stuart laughed. Robbie was a huge pothead in high school. He’d carried Visine and mint gum at all times and subsisted on Oreos and Doritos.