“Let’s face it, my life is changed,” he said to himself, on the way home. The blue sky with knots of cumuli, the green hills and the green lake beyond, even the gravel rattling under the bumpers seemed exuberant. He tried to sing Jerry Lee Lewis’s “Chantilly Lace,” muffed it, but still burbled along to the melody. When he turned onto Eagle Highway, however, there was a stomach-hollowing wave of déjà vu waiting for him. The car slowed to a creep and a string of Catholics returning from mass beeped. Fuck you. Of course! He’d been following the same route that fatal morning nearly a month before when after the oracular dream he had vowed to change his future. His eyes moistened with this epiphany. His heart actually swelled and that lump that defies cynicism rose in the throat. Perhaps the lump was the stuff of life itself, he pondered. He conjured up a savage lust for life and love and slammed the car into first. He nearly growled.

Diana fixed him a cheddar and bacon omelet, a hair less runny than he preferred. The Sunday paper was beside his plate, and the secret briefcase. They had barely spoken in the ten minutes or so since his return. The trouble in paradise had begun when he’d hefted the weighty briefcase out of the car. In a way it held two destinies, he thought. Jesus, he better play it smart. Even more troublesome was that he could share nothing with his beloved; neither the secret of his own radical change nor the secret represented by the briefcase.

“Can’t you say anything, darling? Did it go badly?” She massaged his neck and shoulders while he ate desultorily.

“It went well. We liked each other. I seem to have a job.”

“What exactly is the job?”

“I’m sorry but I can’t say.”

“Oh for god’s sake, you can tell me. You’re the one who can’t keep a secret.”

“I can’t tell anyone. I have to keep this secret.”

“What’s the briefcase gripped between your feet?”

“Please, Diana. I can’t talk about it.”

“What’s to prevent me from peeking at it when you’re asleep or on the toilet?”

“I’ll take it with me.”

“I’m jealous. Now you’re going to fuck a briefcase.” She laughed in her teasing way with a fleck of the frosting of the sweet roll she was eating stuck to her upper lip. She was still wearing her nightie, and without undies.

“It’s not funny, Diana. This is extremely serious business. I’ve sworn …”

“Oh stop it. Who gives a fuck about the briefcase. I can tease.”

“You sure can.”

“I thought we were going to be weird when you got home.” She took a joint from the cupboard, lit it, and inhaled deeply. She passed it to him.