In the bad light his face seemed etched with guilt and questions. I wondered how much of him I knew, how far the hidden parts had taken him, how much good there was between us. “There was a girl once,” I said, “in Florence. I was there for two weeks on a college tour, with money I’d saved working. It was good and it wasn’t. I got a pensione, spent most of my time at the Uffizi and the like. I saw the paintings. Then, the evening before I was to leave, I looked out my window to the alley below which led to a piazza. The sun was setting and for a moment before nightfall the walls of the city were dusty pink. It became dark. I was turning away when I saw her through a window across the alley. She was slim, with long dark hair like Kris Ann’s, though I didn’t know her then. She was packing. She began to undress, carefully folding her things in the suitcase, one by one until they were all folded. I watched her. When she was through she came naked to the window and for a moment looked out at the city, as I had. Then she pulled the blinds.

“The next day I looked for her in the piazza, hoping to buy her a glass of red wine. I never found her and at noon our bus left for the airport. Perhaps I wouldn’t have recognized her. But I always wondered.”

Henry listened, thoughtful. “It’s different,” he said when I was through.

“Perhaps.”

“I have to know,” he repeated. “Maybe none of this has ever meant anything. Maybe life doesn’t. But a man has to live as though it does. I have to. Especially now.”

“Why me? Why not Roland?”

“Because I trust you.” He looked at me directly. “And because you need answers, too.”

I shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

The depression in his face seemed to ease. “You believe me then, Adam.”

“We’ll see.” I stubbed my cigarette. “We’ll see what I do.”

I got up without waiting for an answer. My legs were rubbery, my head light. I felt foolish, surprised. Henry rose, reaching for me. “You’re pale, Adam. Let me drive you to the hospital.”

I waved him back. “I need to get home to Kris Ann. Just stay there. Please.”

He slumped, arms falling to his sides. I got to the library door, hesitated, then turned, propping one hand in the doorway. He watched me in the dimness. “Men,” I said. “Jesus, Henry, how did you get stuck with that one?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Adam. It just was.”

I nodded slowly. When I turned to leave he was reaching for War and Peace.