The only real awkwardness was as a result of the presence of three unattached women: a third cousin, Sally, unmarried at thirty years old and a hundred and seventy pounds or so, but sweet, and two divorced women, Jenny, with two children, and the unfortunately named Anne, no children, both in their late thirties, both nice-looking. He had the distinct impression they weren't there for the homemade salads.

In truth, Jenny was cute, tomboyish, played a good game of baseball, and was terrific with the kids. Kids and dogs were often better judges of character than peers were, as Keith had learned.

Jenny had informed him that she did light housecleaning to make extra money and to call her if he needed help. He told her he would. In fact, around these parts, a man in his forties who'd never been married was cause for some concern, as well as the subject of speculation regarding his adequacy or orientation. Keith had no idea of what Jenny thought in this regard, but he gave her credit for wanting to find out.

In some odd way, however, since he'd returned, Keith felt he was supposed to be faithful to Annie Baxter. He had no problem with this and wouldn't have had it any other way. On the other hand, he felt it was prudent to show some interest in other women lest people start thinking about Keith Landry and Annie Baxter. So he'd taken Jenny's phone number, thanked his aunt, said his good-byes, and left them to their speculations. He'd had a nice Labor Day.

Keith was about to go up to the attic when the front doorbell rang. He looked out the window and saw an unfamiliar car, a gray compact of some sort. He went to the door and opened it. A middle-aged man with a drooping mustache stood on the porch, a folded umbrella in his hand. He was slightly built, wore wire-rim glasses, and had a fringe of long brown hair around a bald pate. The man said, "The war was obscene and immoral, but I'm sorry I called you a baby killer."

Keith smiled in recognition of the voice. "Hello, Jeffrey."

"Heard you were back. Never too late to apologize." He put out his hand, and Keith took it.

Keith said, "Come on in."

Jeffrey Porter took off his raincoat and hung it on the peg in the big foyer. He said, "Where do we start after all these years?"

"We start by me saying you're bald."

"But not fat."

"No, not fat. Left-wing, Bolshevik, bed-wetting comsymps are always skinny."

Jeffrey laughed. "I haven't heard those sweet words in two decades."

"Well, you came to the right place, pinko."

They both laughed and belatedly embraced. Jeffrey said, "You look good, Keith."

"Thanks. Let's get a few beers."

They went into the kitchen and filled a cooler with beer, then carried it out to the front porch and sat in rockers, watching the rain, drinking, each thinking his own thoughts. Finally, Jeffrey said, "Where have the years gone, Keith? Is that a trite thing to say?"

"Well, it is and isn't. It's a good question, and we both know too well where they went."

"Yes. Hey, I really was a little rough on you back there."

"We were all a little rough on one another back there," Keith replied. "We were young, we had passion and convictions. We had all the answers."

"We didn't know shit," said Jeffrey, and popped open another beer. He said, "You were the only guy in high school and at Bowling Green who I thought was nearly as smart as me."

"Smart as I. Actually smarter."

"Anyway, that's why I was so pissed that you were such an idiot."

"And I never understood how a smart guy like you bought the whole line of radical bullshit without thinking for yourself."

"I never bought it all, Keith, but I mouthed it."

"Scary. I've seen whole countries like that."

"Yeah. But you bought the whole line of patriotic flag-waving shit without much thought."

"I've learned better since then. How about you?"

Jeffrey nodded. "I learned a lot. Hey, enough politics. We'll wind up having another fistfight. What's the story? Why are you here?"

"Well, I got sacked."

"From where? You still with the Army?"

"No."

"Then who sacked you?"

"The government."

Jeffrey glanced at him, and they fell into silence. Keith watched the rain falling in the fields. There was something very special about watching the rain from a big open porch, and he'd missed this.

Jeffrey asked, "You married?"

"Nope. You ever marry that girl?.. The hippie with hair down to her ass that you met in our senior year?"

"Gail. Yes, we got married. Still married."

"Good for you. Kids?"

"No, too many people in the world. We're doing our part."

"Me, too. Where're you living?"

"Here. Moved back about two years ago as a matter of fact. We stayed at Bowling Green for a few years."

"I heard. Then what?"

"Well, we both got fellowships at Antioch, and we both got tenured and taught there until we retired."

"I think if I'd spent one more year on or around a campus I'd have blown my brains out."

"It's not for everyone," Jeffrey conceded. "Neither is the government."

"Right."

"Hey, have you seen Annie since you've been back?"

"No." Keith opened another beer.

Jeffrey watched his old friend and classmate, and Keith was aware of the eyes on him. Finally, Jeffrey said, "You can't still be messed up about that, can you?"

"No."

"I've run into her a few times. I keep asking if she's heard from you, and she says she never had. Funny how we were all so close... those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end..."

"We knew they would."

Jeffrey nodded. He said, "I've asked her to stop by and have a drink with Gail and me, but she keeps putting me off. I was hurt at first, but then I got to know a little about her husband. He's the fuzz-fuhrer — you know that? Anyway, I saw them at some hospital charity thing at the Elks Lodge once, and Annie was charming, like Annie can be, and this Nazi of a husband was watching her like he was about to make a drug bust — you know what I mean? This Neanderthal was getting himself worked up because she was talking to men — married guys, for Christ sake, doctors, lawyers, and such. She wasn't doing anything really, and he should have been thrilled that his better half was working the room — God knows, he needs all the good public relations he can get. Anyway, he takes her by the arm, and they leave. Just like that. Hey, I may be a socialist and an egalitarian, but I'm also a fucking snob, and when I see a well-bred, college-educated woman putting up with that shit from — where you going?"

"Bathroom."

Keith went into the bathroom and washed his face. He looked in the mirror. Truly, he'd been blessed with the right genes and didn't look much different than his pictures from college. Jeffrey, on the other hand, was barely recognizable. He wondered how Annie looked. Jeffrey would know, but Keith wasn't about to ask him. Anyway, it made no difference what she looked like. He returned to the porch and sat. "How'd you know I was back?"

"Oh... Gail heard it from somebody. Can't remember who." Jeffrey went back to the other subject. "She looks good."

"Gail?"

"Annie." Jeffrey chuckled and said, "I'd encourage you to give it a go, Keith, but that bastard will kill you." He added, "He knows he got lucky, and he's not about to lose her."

"So, Antioch, home of the politically correct crowd. You fit right in there."

"Well... I guess I did. Gail and I had some good years there. We organized protests, strikes, trashed the Army recruiting station in town. Beautiful."

Keith laughed. "Terrific. I'm getting my ass shot off, and you're scaring away my replacement."

Jeffrey laughed, too. "It was a moment in time. I wish you could have been with us. Christ, we smoked enough pot to stone a herd of elephants, we screwed with half the graduate students and faculty, we..."