Thomas numbly followed him into the kitchen. The remains of some abstemious dinner—a pot and two plates, a wooden bowl, its insides coated with flattened salad—cluttered the ceramic counter top.

'An idiot, huh?'

Thomas took a seat at their battered antique table. 'Neil. I've been an idiot about Neil.'

Mia winced. 'I had a feeling you were going to say that. How so?'

'All this time I've been taking everything at face value. Reading all his signals the way he wanted them to be read.'

Mia shrugged. 'So? He's a man with a message. A psycho with a statement.'

'It's not as simple as that. People rationalize everything they do. The more deviant the behavior, the more colorful the rationalization. And it's almost always bullshit—just like Freud said.' Thomas had yet to meet a Marxist without a smattering of psychoanalysis.

'So you're saying Neil's cigar isn't a cigar?'

'Exactly. The Argument, the death of meaning—all bullshit! Nothing more than a deranged and demented way for Neil to hide from his true motives.'

'True motives…'

'Yes! It's so simple, Mia!' Thomas paused, struggled to compose himself, his thoughts. 'Neil's "arguing" to deny his hatred. Nihilism is simply an excuse, a way for him to legitimize hurting me.'

'Hatred?' Mia ran a hand along his close-cropped scalp. 'But why would he hate you?'

'To repress his shame.'

'And why's he ashamed?'

'Because he's in love.'

'In love? With who?'

'Me.'

Mia scowled, his elbow up, his hand still on his head. 'Are you sure about this?'

'I know how it sounds. But those three years we spent together at Princeton were pretty intense. It's scary, when I think about it, how many levels we connected on. I came to love him like a brother, but Neil… he came to love me more, I think… Like a lover.' He found himself leaning forward, as though wanting to grab Mia by the shoulders. 'Don't you see? That's why he seduced Nora. Both to avenge himself, and to prove to himself that no vengeance was needed!'

Mia regarded him skeptically, drew his palm down across his stubbled cheek. 'I dunno, Tommy.'

'What do you mean?' The shrill breath that accompanied these words made him realize how desperately he needed to be right.

'Neil? Gay?' Mia shook his head. 'No… I never got a blip from the guy, and believe me, Bill and I pinged him several times.'

'C'mon, Mia. You guys are always talking about "sticks in and out of water".'