Harry did not immediately respond. He waited for some faint smoldering sound to level off, then turned his head. A large, multi-lensed set of spectacles was fastened around his face, and each round slip of glass was polarized. The apparatus looked heavy, and indeed, the straps had worn grooves into Harry’s fleshy pink jowls. He pushed the glasses up onto his forehead, then farther up onto his skull. He wiped at one sweaty cheek with the back of his hand.

“That day was bound to come.”

“Yep. So now I’m ready to—”

Harry interrupted. “You’re a man now, Rector, in every way that counts. And I’ve been treating you like a boy for all this time.” Finally too annoyed with the spectacles, he pulled them away. The strap snapped off his head with a humid pop. “I haven’t really done you any favors.”

“You done me plenty of favors, Harry.”

“Not the good kind. I felt sorry for you, but it wasn’t very helpful.”

Rector sensed a shift in the conversation and didn’t like it, but he wasn’t sure how to play it. “You’ve helped me out for years, and I appreciate it like a good Christian orphan ought to. Now I’m here to earn a proper living, and get myself a proper job.”

Harry laughed, maybe at the “Christian” part. “Selling ain’t no trade. And you’ve been using more than you’ve been selling.”

Rector mustered a smattering of false dignity. “I do not believe that’s a fair assessment.”

“Goes to show how much you’ve smoked then, don’t it? Look, kid,” he said more kindly, but not by any great measure. “I’ve always let you slide, haven’t I?”

“And that’s my favorite thing about you.”

“Boys get room to slide, Rector. Men have to make their own way.”

Rector was being dismissed. He could see it coming, as surely as he’d seen his birthday looming. And now the fateful day had clicked, and here he was, more desperate than he’d realized even five minutes ago for a good, solid dose of his favorite habit.

Hastily, trying to get ahead of the inevitable shutdown, he said, “Then Harry, teach me how to cook. Teach me a trade, like the one you got. I’m smart enough to learn it.”

“Smart enough, I reckon. But not careful enough.” He took another swipe at his glowing, overheated face, then wiped his own body’s grease on the brown canvas overcoat he wore to keep his clothes covered. “You’d send yourself sky high with your first batch.”