"I don't know where he is."

"Got a piece of paper?" Cheryl opened her purse and withdrew a pencil. Jay fumbled through his pockets.

"Never mind," she said. She took a beer coaster and wrote on it. She handed the coaster to Jay, saying, "Not far from here. The least you could do would be to look him up."

"Thanks." Jay read the address and placed it in his breast pocket.

They ordered another round of beers and sat talking about old times; each avoided the thoughts that were uppermost in their minds.

"I had better get home," Cheryl said. "I have been late to work every day this week."

They left the bar and Jay walked Cheryl to the subway. When he left her he walked for hours. Three times he walked past the address that she had given him before he gathered enough courage to enter.

He rang the bell. After a moment he heard someone stirring from within. There was a click from the peephole and the door opened.

"What the hell . . ."

"I know," Jay said apologetically, "it's three o'clock in the morning. Can I come in?"

"Why not?" Gerard replied as he opened the door wide. "Not every night I get awakened this time of the morning."

"I'm sorry. Can I stay here tonight?"

"Sure," Gerard said. 'I'll get some blankets. You can sleep on the couch." He went into the bedroom and returned carrying several blankets and a

couple of sheets. He began to spread them on the couch.

"Here, let me," Jay said as he took the sheets out of Gerard's hands. When the bed was prepared Gerard asked, "O.K?"

"Yeah," Jay assured him. "Fine."

"The john's there," Gerard pointed to a doorway that lead into the bathroom. "Tomorrow's Sunday and I'm sleeping late. If you get up before me just help yourself. There's eggs, juice and coffee. Make yourself at home." "Thanks," Jay sounded more than grateful.

"See you tomorrow.'

"Goodnight."

Gerard went back to bed and was about to go to sleep when he heard footsteps. Jay entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Mind if I talk?"

"No, I don't mind. You want to tell me about it?"

"Gerard, I . . ." his voice faltered.

"You left Clara?" Gerard inquired.

"Yes."

"I guessed as much," Gerard replied sympathetically.

"Oh," Jay said, relieved that Gerard knew.

"Are you sorry?”

"For leaving?"

"For anything," Gerard suggested.

"No," Jay hesitated, "I suppose not."

"Then why the tears?"

There was a long silence. Jay placed his hand on Gerard's shoulder. His fingers tensed.

"You want to tell me what's bothering you?"

15