19

Rita

We run close to each other, shoulders touching for a few paces before we're forced apart by an old lady walking her little fluffy white dog.

When we come back together, he tells me about his friends. Carmine and Ford, both in the area with their wives; Eros, out in Chicago; and Lanzo, somewhere overseas. "They have unconventional jobs," he says, frowning straight ahead.

I decide not to follow up on that, though I file it away for future questioning later. "My best friend lives out in Kentucky, and most of the people I knew in high school either moved out of state or are out in the suburbs still. It's been hard the last year."

"I can see why you're such a wreck."

I glare at him. "I'm a wreck because my apartment burned down, you asshole."

"Right, of course, I shouldn't have suggested otherwise."

"You got into a lot of fights as a kid, didn't you? I can imagine people are constantly trying to beat you up."

"Not since I hit six foot," he says with a smirk. "All right, wife, come on.