*That would mean a lot to me if you did.'

The old man rose again. Slid the chair back into its corner. Walked to the bedroom door.

*So you're OK with me being a boxer?'

Silence.

Then, *It's good to have a dream, Nat.'

*It's not just a dream. It's what I'm really going to do.'

*Until you do it, it's a dream.'

*Oh. OK.' He watched the old man for a moment, standing with one hand on the door. Ready to close it for the night. Back-lit by the light from the hallway. A dark silhouette. *Did you ever have a dream, Nathan?'

In the silence that followed, Nat wished he could see the old man's face.

*Get some sleep, Nat. I'm guessing you'll have a big day ahead of you tomorrow, down at the Frosty Freeze.'

Part Five.

Nathan McCann.

24 November 1978.

You Would Think So, Wouldn't You?

It was an hour or more after dinner. Nathan had gone to the trouble of making a wood fire in the fireplace, because it seemed to suit the late autumn mood.

He washed the soot from his hands before sitting on the couch next to Eleanor, who hooked her arm through his.

*I should really be doing the dishes,' she said.

*They're not going anywhere.'

*The food will get stuck on.'

*Just sit with me a minute, and then I'll be happy to help you if you want.'

*You don't have to help me, Nathan, I can-'

Nat stuck his head into the living room. *I have to ask you a really big favor,' he said.

Nathan felt Eleanor stiffen slightly in anticipation of what he would ask. If called upon to wager, or even just to guess, Nathan would have assumed that cash would be involved.

*You may ask.'

*Can I use your record player?'

*Oh. My record player. Yes, I guess that would be all right. But be gentle with the needle, please. Replacement needles are quite expensive. And please close the den door, so we aren't assaulted by the noise.'

*And please keep the volume low,' Eleanor added.

*You got it,' Nat said, and his head disappeared.

Eleanor sighed deeply. *And it was such a nice, quiet evening, too. Why do I think the peace is about to be shattered? I should have known it couldn't last.'

They waited in silence, tense now, poised to see how dreadful it was really going to be.

A moment later, soft strains of violin leaked under the den door. It was almost the polar opposite of what Nathan had been braced to expect.

*I know this song,' he said. But he hadn't heard enough bars to identify it. *That's so familiar. What is it?'

*I think that's Nat King Cole.'

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

*My goodness,' Eleanor said. *I certainly owe Nat an apology for what I've been sitting here thinking. But maybe it's best if I never deliver it, because then he never has to know what I was sitting here thinking. Now, why on earth would he be listening to Nat King Cole?'

*Maybe he has better taste than we give him credit for.'

*Is this what young people listen to these days?'

*I have no idea what young people listen to these days. But you're looking a gift horse in the mouth. Nat!' he called out in a big voice.

The den door opened. *Too loud?'

*Turn it up, please, Nat. Eleanor and I can barely hear it.'

*Oh. Up? Oh. OK.'

The volume came up about three notches and the den door closed again.

Nathan stood and reached a hand down to his wife. *May I have the honor of this dance?'

Eleanor laughed and turned her face away. *Oh, Nathan. Don't kid.'

*Who's kidding? Dance with me.'

He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

*I still need to do the dishes.'

*They'll wait.'

*I didn't leave them soaking.'

*Just until the end of this song.' And he pulled her in close. She stopped arguing, set her head against his shoulder and moved with his lead. *Am I right in thinking we haven't gone out dancing since before we got married?' Nathan asked, his lips close to her ear.

*No, that's not right,' she said. *We've gone out since the wedding. We just haven't gone out anywhere since Nat came here to live.'

On that note, the song ended. Nathan waited and held her close, hoping for another slow ballad. But he didn't get it. The next song was up-tempo.

Besides, she pulled away from his arms, complaining that the dishes wouldn't do themselves, and that he was breaking his promise.

The phone rang not two minutes later. Nathan was sitting right beside it, and picked it up on the second ring.

*Nathan?' A familiar man's voice.

*Yes, this is Nathan.'

*Marvin LaPlante.'

*Marvin. How have you been? I owe you an apology. I've really been remiss, I'm afraid. Not calling or writing to thank you for giving the boy a chance. I guess I thought maybe it would be more diplomatic to wait and see how things panned out. I hope that's not being too pessimistic.'

Silence on the line. Then, *Actually, that's what I was calling about, Nathan. I just wanted to say I was sorry. That things didn't work out better. With your boy.'

*Oh, no. He lost that job?'

*You didn't know?'

*No. When did it happen?'

*Week before last,' Marvin said. *I had no idea you didn't know. He started calling in sick on Wednesdays. Always that same day. Seemed a little odd. He didn't seem sick when he came in the next day, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. But then the third Wednesday he called in, one of the delivery drivers saw him downtown. So, I hope you understand. I had no choice but to let him go.'

*Of course I understand, Marvin. I never meant for you to show him any deferential treatment.'

*I'm just sorry I ended up being the one to break it to you. I figured by now you would know.'

*Yes,' Nathan said. *You would think so. Wouldn't you?'

A few minutes after Nathan hung up the phone, Eleanor came through to the living room. She took one look at him, sitting on the couch by himself, staring at nothing.

*Nathan, my goodness,' she said. *What's wrong?'

It surprised and disappointed him. He had made a firm decision to keep his thoughts and reactions to himself. And somehow, in the empty room, before Eleanor had arrived, he had assumed he was succeeding.

*Nothing at all,' he said.

She turned to go without comment.

But Nathan thought better of his words immediately. As soon as they came out of his mouth he knew they were in serious error. No happy marriage was, in his estimation, ever based on thoughtless, automatic untruths and exclusions. And the best way to make someone unhappy, if not downright unbalanced, is to tell her that what she sees with her own eyes is not there at all.

*Eleanor,' he said, and she stopped. *I'm sorry. I said that without thinking. It's just some trouble with Nat.'

She came closer. Sat beside him on the couch. Put her hand on top of his. *Do you want to tell me about it?'

*Please don't be offended if I say no. It's just my answer for the moment. It's not that I don't want to share such things with you. It isn't even really to say there's anything at all I wouldn't share with you. It's just that I want to hear Nat's version of events before my own theories get blown too far out of proportion.'

*I understand,' she said. And kissed his cheek.

*Do you really?' he asked as she rose to leave.

*Of course.'

*You're a good woman, Eleanor.'

*Oh, nonsense.'

*You are.'

She brushed his words away with a wave of her hand and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Nathan pulled his battered old dictionary down from its resting spot on the living room bookcase.

He sat in his favorite chair, the book open in his lap. Put on his reading glasses.

Taking his good silver pen out of his pocket, he opened the drawer of the end table and found his engraved leather case of notation cards, each card embossed with his name.

He looked up his word, then made a note on a card in his most careful penmanship: Forthcoming (adjective) 1) Frank. Candid and willing to cooperate.

2) (of a person) Open and willing to talk.

He closed the dictionary, returned it to its rightful place on the shelf, and left the note card in the middle of the pillow on Nat's bed.

Nathan stood at his dresser, emptying his pants pockets before bed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and felt dismayed about how angry he still looked. Nathan had never liked anger. It seemed a barbaric and undignified emotion. He knew it always masked fear or hurt, and had often wished everyone could simply be sensible enough to cut out the middleman.

He caught his own eyes again in the mirror.

Was he hurt?

Behind his reflection he saw Eleanor removing the pillow shams and turning down the bed. She looked up and noticed.

*You didn't close the door,' she said. *You always close the door.'

*I thought Nat might have something to say to me before bed.'

At least, he hoped it would be before bed. He hoped he didn't have to sleep on all of this turmoil all night.