When they were driving back to the small town, Johnny was talking politics. He was talking racism. He was talking about every serious thing that the news tells the world to think about every night at six. Every time he would get into a rant, Annie would look at him and say, “Johnny, I just want to know one thing. Was that a real fish?” And they would both break into laughter.

Johnny Cochrane was driving along, laughing and watching Annie’s hair fly around the cab of his truck. Johnny Cochrane had not had this much fun in a very long time. He reached over and grabbed Annie’s hand and held it tight.

Annie looked back, confused and a little bewildered. She leaned across her seat and kissed his cheek, turned her head to look out the side window. She did not pull her hand away.

After supper, they sat on Johnny’s balcony and watched the last rays of sun go away. Their stomachs were filled with fresh fish and vegetables. They felt the glow and relaxing effect of the wine seep into them.

“That was a good day,” Annie said. “Thank you, Johnny.”

“I thank you for spending the day with me. It was fun.”

“Well, I think I should call a cab and head back to my loneliness,” Annie said as the dark enveloped them. Johnny shook his head and motioned for her to sit down.

“What? Do you need something?”

“Just stay a while longer, Annie.”

Annie sat down again.

“Do you think we should try to get a hold of him?” Johnny asked after a long silence. “You know, call him and just see how he’s doing.”

“He’s fine in his own little world,” Annie said. “The people up there love him, and he’ll be taken care of for the rest of his days. Now, I have to find my cell and call a cab.”

“No, I mean, shouldn’t we let him know that we’re both here.”

“Because why? What would it matter if he knew we were both here?”

“If he finds out from someone else, Annie, he’ll think you came here for me.”

Annie looked at Johnny and burst out laughing. “As if, Johnny. As if I came here for you. Geez, you’re a nice guy and everything, but I doubt that even Moses Henry would think that!”

“Come on, Annie, he knows what I thought about you all those years ago. You know, I always had these thoughts about you and how, you know, if you and I ever got it on . . .”

Annie did not know. Annie had never known. Johnny continued awkwardly. “Well, you know, we’re cut from the same cloth in that area and all that.”

“The same cloth? Johnny, this is stupid talk. This is wine talk. I’m calling my cab, and I’ll wait for it downstairs.” Annie turned to leave, but Johnny held her hand.

“Didn’t you ever think about me that way?” Johnny asked sincerely. “Really, Annie, never?”