"Stop it, Al, I'm going to phlegm up, you keep making me laugh like this." Mom dropped the bags onto the kitchen counter. "See, Myron? It's a good thing your mother is shallow."

"Shallow?" Myron asked.

"If I judged a man on brains or sense of humor," Mom continued, "you'd have never been born."

"Right-o," Dad said with a hearty smile. "But one look at your old man in a bathing suit and whammo-- all mine."

"Oh please," Mom said.

"Yes," Myron said. "Please."

They both looked at him. Mom cleared her throat. "So did you two, uh, have a nice talk?"

"We talked," Dad said. "It was very life-affirming. I see the errors of my ways."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. I see everything differently now."

She put her arms around his waist and nuzzled him. "So you'll call Heshy?"

"I'll call Heshy," he said.

"Promise."

"Yes, Ellen, I promise."

"You'll go to the Y and do jai alai with him?"

"Tai chi," Dad corrected.

"What?"

"It's called tai chi, not jai alai."

"I thought it was jai alai."

"Tai chi. Jai alai is the game with the curved rackets down in Florida."

"That's shuffleboard, Al."

"Not shuffleboard. The other thing with the sticks. And the gambling."

"Tai chi?" Mom said, testing it for sound. "Are you sure?"

"I think so."

"But you're not positive?"

"No, I'm not positive," Dad said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it is called jai alai."

The name debate continued for a while. Myron didn't bother correcting them. Never cut in on that strange dance known as marital discourse. They ate the health food. It was indeed nasty. They laughed a lot. His parents must have said "You don't know what you're talking about" to each other fifty times; maybe it was a euphemism for "I love you."

Eventually Myron said good night. Mom kissed his cheek and made herself scarce. Dad walked him to the car. The night was silent save a lone dribbling basketball somewhere on Darby Road or maybe Coddington Terrace. A nice sound. When he hugged his father goodbye, Myron again noticed that his father felt smaller, less substantial. Myron held on a little longer than usual. For the first time he felt like the bigger man, the stronger man, and he suddenly remembered what Dad had said about reversing roles. So he held on in the dark. Time passed. Dad patted his back. Myron kept his eyes closed and held on tighter. Dad stroked his hair and shushed him. Just for a little while. Just until the roles reversed themselves again, returning both of them to where they belonged.

Chapter 25.

Granite Man was waiting outside the Dakota. Myron spotted him from his car. He picked up the cell phone and called Win. "I have company."

"A rather large gentleman, yes," Win said. "Two cohorts are parked across the street in a corporate vehicle owned by the Lex family."

"I'll leave the cell phone on."

"They confiscated it last time," Win said.