“Yes. He’s in advertising, but I guess he’s out of work most of the time. He seems nice, always trying to understand. It was funny, the first few times he called. The school was writing him nasty letters. He’d call and ask for Sam. I’d have him call back later and try to get hold of Sam in the meantime. Sometimes Sam wouldn’t come. When he did, it wasn’t very good. Sam’s always pleasant to everybody, very polite. But not to his parents.”

She stared at my face, listening, wanting to know everything about him.

“After a while Sam wouldn’t come to the phone at all so I’d end up having long conversations with his father. He’d be like, ‘How’s my boy? Do you see him much? What’s this I hear? He hasn’t been to class in six months and they’re getting ready to throw him out?’ And I’d say, ‘Oh, Mr. Rosen, he’s fine. There’s some kind of foul-up in communications between the central office and the philosophy department. Sam’s working on an independent project, which is why he hasn’t been attending classes. As a matter of fact, I was talking to his professor the other day and he says Sam’s work may be revolutionary in its contribution to the science of knowledge. Besides, the school always exaggerates the seriousness of a situation.’ On like that, I’d go. And he’d be very patient and want to believe everything was all right. But in the background I could always hear his mother screaming and crying. Mr. Rosen had to stop every few minutes to try and keep her quiet. Not very nice.”

“They live in New York?”

“Long Island. Where are you from?”

“Palo Alto. My mother’s a pill freak.”

“What kind of pills?”

“Any kind. She’s a pharmacist.”

“That’s handy.”

We smiled at each other. She kept smiling when I was ready to stop, so I looked at Sam and Rennel. She continued smiling at me anyway.

“You look like an Indian.”

“No,” I said. “You do.”

“Do you like real folk music?”

“Yes, very much.”

“And you like Omar?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Did you ever sleep with him?”

I looked at her sharply, but I could tell she was only curious. She must have felt safe with Sam if she could afford to wonder.

“No,” I said.

I could tell she wanted to ask why, but Sam cut in. “What are you two talking about?”

He’d been watching us. Carlotta smiled at him and he smiled back and I was getting tired of their long-winded smiles, all that communing of souls.