“That’s enough,” said the dealer. It must have been too much, but right now Gorham didn’t care. He just wanted to get away. He hastened along the path, glancing back only once, hoping the dealer had vanished. But he was still standing there. Gorham followed the path until it led to another, and then made an eastward turn toward an exit onto Fifth. Thank God the guy was well out of sight by now.

He had just got to the sidewalk on Fifth when he saw the cop. He knew what he ought to do. He ought to look casual. After all, he was a respectable, conservative young man from Harvard who was going to be a banker, not a young guy with half an ounce of grass in his pocket. But he couldn’t help it. He froze. He probably looked as if he’d just killed someone in there.

The cop was watching him. He came toward him.

“Good afternoon, officer,” said Gorham. Somehow it sounded absurd.

“In the park?” said the cop.

“Yes.” Gorham was beginning to get control of himself now. “I needed a little walk.” The cop was still watching him. Gorham smiled sadly. “Do I look pale?”

“You might say that.”

“I guess I’d better get a coffee before I go back then.” He nodded grimly. “Not a good day. My father has cancer.” And then, because it was true, he felt the tears come to his eyes.

The cop saw.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “There’s a place where you can get coffee if you follow this street to Lexington.”

“Thank you.” He crossed Fifth and kept going all the way to Lexington. Then he turned north, went up a few blocks and came back to Park Avenue.

His father was still up when Mabel let him into the apartment. He was sitting in the chair, but he was slumped over on one arm, and his face was drawn. Obviously the effort of that day had taken a lot out of him.

“I found the guy with the red baseball hat,” Gorham said quickly, and he disgorged the contents of his pocket. He grinned. “I nearly got arrested.”

It took Charlie a few moments to summon his energy. But when he did, he looked up at Gorham with a gratitude that was touching.

“You did that for me?”

“Yes,” said Gorham. And kissed him.

After Dark

1977

BY THE EVENING of Wednesday, July 13, the atmosphere, which had been hot and humid all day, was getting oppressively close. It felt as if a thunderstorm could break. Apart from this circumstance, Gorham had no other expectations for the evening ahead—except the pleasure of seeing his good friend Juan, of course.