ever heard of.”
I laughed. Jeffrey laughed too. Peter smiled.
“She sounds smart,” I said.
“She was.”
He told me Margaret had died several years earlier.
“Margaret knew?”
Afterward, he’d considered calling me many times. He never did.
“I didn’t know if I had the right,” he said.
“You could’ve tried.”
“I know.”
I shook my head.
“So we lost over
four decades because everybody kept deciding what was best for somebody else.”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s incredibly stupid.”
“Also true.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
He never did.
Then I remembered. I looked at him.
“Jeffrey.”
“What?”
“I’m 60.”
His eyes widened. Then he smiled.
“So you are.”
“We had a deal.”
My friend slowly raised his pinky.
His hand shook.
“So you are.”
“If we’re both single at 60…”
I hooked mine around his.
“We stop being idiots and find each other.”
Tears ran down his face.
