The woman was confused, and the employee was struggling to square what he knew he’d seen with what he now saw. He apologized, but the woman didn’t say anything. I should have taken my luck and left, but I was still annoyed, more at myself now than anyone. I launched into the woman, yelling at her about false accusations and how if she’d kept better track of her stuff, she wouldn’t blame other people. I might have yelled at her about how no one needs a watch anymore anyway. “What would I do with a watch? What would anyone do with a watch?” It might have gone something like that. I was half out of my head, suddenly becoming the person I was before I met Frank, I thought. I finished my rant and calmed down.

“It’s all right,” I told the woman. “But you’ll have some explaining to do with the cops.” I left before they got there. Taking the watch was supposed to be my small tribute to Frank, I told myself, and I’d almost fucked it up. If they hadn’t been worse than I was, they would have had me. They never should have let me go back inside, and nowhere near the woman’s table. And I should have planned better, studied the room, seen all the angles. I wasn’t Frank. I’d gotten through most of my life on my own, and now I wasn’t sure I could get through any more of it without him. I had barely passed the first test. I went back to bed.

—

I arrived as early as possible to the funeral home for the visitation, thinking I’d be the first one there, but there were three other people already sitting with Frank. It was a husband and wife and their daughter and I knew right away it was Frank’s family, the one I never knew he had. His father looked the way Frank would have looked thirty years from now, and his younger sister had his same pleasant face, with softer features that held a brightness that had not been dulled yet.

The sister got up and walked across the room to greet me. She lacked the calm confidence Frank always had, there was a fragility about her; she looked like chipped glass. “You must be Rick,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Casey.” She leaned in and gave me a brief hug. “My parents don’t know,” she whispered and walked me back to meet her mother and father. “This is a good friend of Frank’s,” she said.

“How do you know Frank?” the mother wanted to know.

“We met at the center,” I told her. “He helped me through a lot. Helped me all the way.”

“You stayed in touch?”

“Every day,” I said. “He was always there for me. All the time.”