“Oh, my God, I wish you wouldn’t say that because you can’t mean it. You know what I want.”

It was true. I knew what he wanted and I wanted the same or stronger, and why wasn’t the wet bar set up yet? Where were Clayton and Rob?

The doctor’s bag lay almost within reach. Suddenly Albert over in his gigantic horsehair chair tapped a neighboring sofa leg with his blind person’s long white cane—official notice that he was about to speak, three loud strikes, as always. Albert cleared his throat and addressed the entire room: “Are drinks being served? If it’s no trouble, I’ll have a gin and tonic. Gilbey’s will do, and no twist, please. That is, if anyone is making a trip to the bar.” Hiram, at that very moment “walkering” himself past Albert’s chair, startled Albert by snorting, “Your stick’s in the way. Move it or lose it.”

“Unbelievable,” Virgil sighed.

“He is a piece of work,” I agreed.

“I love him, though,” said Virgil.

“Yeah.”

We resumed struggling toward the mahogany table defaced by coffee stains and water rings showing where people had spilled or placed glasses down time after time without a coaster. Virgil, still trying to pilot me away from the doctor’s bag, wrapped his arms around my middle, pushed his face against my chest, and hugged tight; his feet dragged. At some point I could brook this no longer. Other people’s terror is so exasperating. I carried him a final uneasy step or two before trying to wrestle free. I grabbed Virgil’s shoulders and pushed him away and his arms flailed but he seized my coat sleeves then lost his balance and we almost toppled, but I caught him. Virgil was showing no respect for physical force in relation to weight distribution: he did not seem to care if he tripped us both and brought me crashing down on his head. How can a person be so heedless of his body? I warned Virgil, “Wait a minute. Stop. Think about what you’re doing. Let me show you something. If you grab from the side and rotate your hips like that, we’re both going to go down, and I’ll probably get hurt but you’ll definitely crack your skull on that lamp. See what I mean? Spread your feet. Wider. You want to give yourself a strong foundation.”

“Like this?”

“Not exactly.”

“How’s this?” he whispered.

“No. You’re making it more complicated than it needs to be. The basic principles are simple. Imagine yourself rooted to the floor.”

“This way?”

“Lower.”

“Okay?”

“Better.”

“Now what?”

“Try pulling.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“Well, I’m resisting. But, you see, with your center of gravity dropped, your position remains secure, and you can exert great force without losing equilibrium. Go ahead, pull as hard as you can.”

“I don’t feel very good, Doug.”

“Pull, Virgil. Remember, use your legs, not your back. Control the motion.”

“Feel really woozy, Doug.”

He’d sunk, now, to his knees, almost. Looking down, I saw Virgil’s feet splayed far apart and his soft arms embracing me, holding on awkwardly. I could feel, through his clothes and through mine, Virgil’s body’s distressing warmth, its fever. I can’t say it felt that bad.