OPERATOR: Sounds sexy.

MR. ROGERS: I want you to imagine we’re there now, except instead of summer, it’s late fall and chilly. You’re my high school sweetheart. It’s only us two, and we’ve snuck under the fence in our coats and boots to brave the water before it freezes.

OPERATOR: Okay, I’m with you. I can feel that harsh autumn wind whipping my cheeks. I blow on my fingers to keep them warm.

MR. ROGERS: Yes, good. I take you by the hand and lead you down to the tide. I can feel you resist with each footstep, but only a little.

OPERATOR: I trust you.

MR. ROGERS: While I remove your coat, you lift my sweater above my arms. I unhook your brassiere and your small breasts pucker.

OPERATOR: God, it’s so cold!

MR. ROGERS: You will only have to endure it for a short time. It’s not going to last forever. Are you ready?

OPERATOR: I’m ready.

MR. ROGERS: We whoop and scream and sprint into the lake. You feel the shock of waves slapping your shins. The next sensation is constriction, as if you’re wearing a garment too tight for your body. After that, panic. We dive. You can feel your heart beat fast, then less fast as it fails to combat the icy temperature. We stay in for thirty seconds, two minutes at most. When we get out, that wind cuts into us. It’s almost worse than swimming. You look near tears. We didn’t remember to bring a towel.

OPERATOR: I can’t feel my toes. Come here. I want your arms around me.

MR. ROGERS: The best I’m able to do is gather our clothes and lead you to the beach house. Maybe there we can dry off before the trip home. It’s strung up with Christmas lights that don’t work. Inside, it’s cleaned out for the season, only a few emergency medical kits lying around. I pull you to me so we stand touching rib cage to rib cage.

OPERATOR: Your touch feels so incredible. I love being pressed against you.

MR. ROGERS: I’m sorry that I brought you here. I thought the water would be just enough of a shock to help you forget for a while.

OPERATOR: Oh well, that’s okay.

MR. ROGERS: Your father loved you. He would want you to try to be happy.

OPERATOR: Thanks.

MR. ROGERS: I kiss you. You’re trembling. As my lips travel, I taste lake brine mixed with granules of sand. When I enter the warm slickness of your cunt, my skin is still slightly cold. How strange it is to love someone, I think. What are you thinking? What do you feel?

The call went silent. Mr. Rogers was patiently waiting for the operator to answer. I stopped the recording.

“His conversation didn’t sound like a fantasy to me,” Jill said. “More like a memory.”

“It does. The stuff about the dead dad.”

“It makes you wonder what’s real and what he made up.”

“Yeah. They may have gone in the lake, but I doubt he fucked her in that lifeguard house.”