He was right, of course, but Frank had options. He could go back to teaching; he could go and do a lot of things. What could I do? I didn’t have any experience with anything else. And I didn’t have skills, not for a real job. If I could I’d go back and start all over. I’d stay in school, and not fuck up. I couldn’t say that to Frank. They don’t like to hear that shit in treatment; you’re supposed to look ahead. Tomorrow’s going to be better than today, that’s the kind of crap they want you to think. Believe me, I’m not convinced that tomorrow is guaranteed to be better, but I know the past could have been. I know I carry it around with me all the time. What I did then has got me where I am now. And I’m not complaining – my life is better than it ever was – but I also know that I’m making the best with what I have. My options are limited, at best.

“What would you do, if you weren’t doing this?” Frank said.

“Probably sit around like I usually do,” I told him. I couldn’t do it forever, but I could sit around and do nothing, especially if it were someplace warm, near some water. “Italy was good, wasn’t it? I wasn’t the one who had trouble in Italy, as I recall,” I said.

“It wasn’t the same, not at all,” Frank said. “You know that. We should go back. I’ll show you.”

“Whatever we do,” I said, “let’s do it outside a fucking Civic.”

“No Civics in Italy,” Frank said. “Not like here, anyway.”

10

THE WATCH