Courageous
you?”
    “Nah.”
    “Well, quiet is okay. But if something’s bugging you and you want to talk about it, feel free.”
    “I’m good.”
    Fifteen minutes passed while David remained mute despite Nathan’s small talk. On the outside, David Thomson was finally making something of his life. Inside it was all loose ends, without anything to tie them together. David’s guilt followed him everywhere, gnawing on his mind like a dog on a bone.
    Nathan turned to David. “Ever been to Aunt Bea’s Diner?”
    “No.”
    “Hope it’s still there.”
    The building was an urban planning nightmare, unmolested by the wheels of progress.
    “Welcome to the diner time forgot,” Nathan said as they strode through the door.
    David looked at a table and imagined it would take a crowbar to remove the syrup bottles from the lazy Susan. He walked back to where he could see the grill, wondering if the kitchen harbored an Ebola culture. He was relieved that, though ancient, Aunt Bea’s seemed clean.
    They ordered from a menu that appeared to have been produced by a Remington typewriter in the seventies.
    Meanwhile, David seemed determined to remain skeptical. But by the time he was three bites into the cheeseburger, his attitude had been realigned.
    Some guy who looked like he’d never left Woodstock, inhaling through the sixties and never exhaling till the seventies, popped a quarter into the Rock-Ola. On came “Mr. Tambourine Man.”
    “Tell me about your former partner,” Nathan said.
    “Why?”
    “If you were taking someone’s place at a job, wouldn’t you want to know about him?”
    David put on the plate what had nearly been his last bite of cheeseburger. He begrudgingly wiped his fingers with a napkin. “His name was Jack Bryant.”
    Nathan waited. Nothing came.
    “And?”
    “What more do you want to know?”
    “Why is this so difficult? Ask me about my last partner and I’ll tell you all about him. Seymour James. Fifty-three years old. Wife and three kids, like me. Smart guy and funny. Coaches Little League. Orders his cheeseburgers rare. Seattle Seahawks fan, but the Falcons are gradually winning him over.”
    “Bryant and I didn’t always . . . get along very well.”
    “Why?”
    “I was a rookie; that’s why!” David raised his voice a few decibels too loud. Four people turned and stared.
    “Okay,” Nathan said. “I get it. Why did he transfer?”
    “He and his wife split up. So he moved back to Chicago to go into business with a friend.”
    “No longer a cop?”
    “It’s some kind of security business.”
    “No kids?”
    “Two.”
    “And he moved to Chicago?”
    “Yeah.”
    “So now he doesn’t see his kids?”
    “I think he took them for a week this summer.”
    “Well, good for him,” Nathan said with a frown.
    “Hey, he’s an okay guy.”
    “I would think an okay guy would either stay at his job or find one where he could stay near his kids.”
    “Why are you judging him like that? You don’t even know him.”
    “No, I don’t. He was probably a good cop, and I’ll bet he’s a great security guy. All I know is, those things aren’t as important as being a good husband and a father.”
    “His wife left him.”
    “Was that because he was such a great husband?”
    “Look, man, what’s it to you?”
    “I’m talking about a guy being there for his wife, making it work. And if you’re separated, being there for your kids so they can still see you several times a week. At least they don’t have to say, ‘My dad left me.’”
    Both men were adrift in thought. When the huckleberry pie with French vanilla ice cream appeared, it brought them back to dry land.
    Nathan took a deep breath. “David, you’re right. I didn’t know your partner. And I shouldn’t judge him. I’m sorry. It’s a sore spot; my mom never had a decent husband, and I never had a dad.”
    David restricted his eye contact to his steadily disappearing huckleberry pie. The conversation was over.

    In the
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