Everything Changes

function again. This way, when the occasion does arise, then by God, so will I.”
    “I see,” I say, much the way I would if I were talking to a rational person. “And you’re doing this under medical supervision?”
    “Nah. It’s my own idea,” he says proudly.
    “And you don’t see anything wrong with walking around all day with a hard-on?”
    “On the contrary. It makes me feel young again. Alive.”
    “I’m young,” I say. “I don’t walk around with a hard-on all day.”
    He flashes his trademark grin. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

    Hope calls, still irked about my waking her up last night, but more concerned about my not being on the way to work already. “Why are you still home?” she says.
    “My father dropped by,” I say.
    “Oh. But you’re going to work today, right?”
    “I’m not sure. I’m still feeling a little out of it.”
    There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the line as Hope considers her options. “Zack,” she says softly. “What’s going on? Do I need to come home early?”
    “Of course not,” I say. “Everything’s fine. I’m just not feeling too well, that’s all.”
    “What are your symptoms?”
    “General malaise.”
    “What does that mean, exactly?”
    “I don’t know. I’m just feeling somewhat run-down.”
    “Does this have anything to do with that procedure you had?”
    “No.”
    “You’re making me very nervous.” In the background, I can hear the discreet clatter of a keyboard abruptly stop as Hope quits multitasking.
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know. You’re acting strange. You don’t call me all day yesterday; then you wake me up sounding drunk, or stoned, or something. And now you’re skipping work for the second day in a row when there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with you. I mean, none of this is normal behavior for you. Are you having doubts about us? Because if you are, you should just come out and say so.”
    “It’s nothing like that,” I say. “Jesus. Can’t a guy have an off day without the whole world coming down on him?”
    “I’m not the whole world. I am your fiancée,” Hope says in a thin, icy voice that can go either way. She might burst into tears, or she might coldly eviscerate me.
    “I know. I’m sorry.”
    Our frustrated silence is punctuated by the twelve-cents-a-minute overseas static.
    “Have you seen Tamara?” she finally asks me.
    “What?”
    “Tamara. I was just wondering if you’ve gone out to see her and Sophie lately.”
    This is a trap, a trick question, and I don’t know the right answer. But waiting too long will be an automatic disqualification, so I have no choice but to hazard a guess. “I did,” I say. “On Monday.”
    “You left work early?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You didn’t mention it.”
    “It wasn’t a big deal. Tamara was going a little stir-crazy, so I took Sophie to the park for a few hours.”
    Hope is aware that I check in with Tamara and Sophie from time to time. She’s less than thrilled with my retained connection to my best friend’s widow, but she’s never said anything about it, too proud to be unfairly cast in the role of the insensitive jealous girlfriend while Tamara and I nobly grapple with the larger, universally sympathetic themes of death and grief. And while this delicate dynamic grants me license, I make sure to keep the frequency of my calls and visits with Tamara a secret, because if Hope knew how often we speak and how much time we spend together, her instinct for self-preservation would override her pride, which would lead to a final, tearfully angry ultimatum. So I carry on my relationship with Tamara according to a nebulous formula being constantly recalculated to indicate the minimum amount of disclosure necessary to cover my ass while continuing the charade. Hope sees only the tip of the Tamara iceberg, its mammoth, faceted walls spreading out below the churning surface, lying in silent, deadly wait.
    “It’s not a big deal at all,” Hope says. “I’m glad you’re able to help her out. I’m just wondering why you didn’t mention it.”
    “I don’t know,” I say. “That night was Matt’s show and Jed and I got kind of drunk, and then my father showed up and I guess, in all the excitement, I forgot about it.”
    “Fair enough,” Hope says, but her tone remains unconvinced. “Listen, I have to go into a meeting. I love you and I don’t want to be a nag, so I’m just going to ask you one last time, is