"Even though I didn't really feel like it, I went out with Kenny. It was a nice place, the food was very tasty and plentiful, and for the Westside, the prices were very decent. But he wouldn't stop chattering. About everything. I really had to work at reconciling the garrulous chatty queen with the university student he once was. But he was apparently an anomaly wherever he went. Working at a florist seemed somehow a better fit."
"Well", Carl says, "On key with the stereotype, anyway. But I would know a thing or two about being an anomaly."
"How did you pull it off?" I ask. "How did you ever pull it off?"
"Child of wealth and social status, male prostitution, fringe Christian community, journalism, and now this absurd mansion in the BC wilderness. I mean, what could be more normal!"
"Exactly what I mean." I am starting to yawn.
"Are you getting tired yet? Oh my god it's after 11 and I have to be up at five. Shall we call it a night?"
"Yeah, might as well", I say, yawning again. "I wish we could just go on talking."
"We could try it again tomorrow night if you'd like."
"Yes, I like."
Carl catapults from the armchair, walks over to the bed, and gestures.
"Come on, get up, so I can give you a hug."
"Oh, alright, I guess", Feeling a little reluctant to have to budge. I stand up, and Carl enfolds me in a strong, prolonged embrace. Then he steps back, his hands on my shoulders.
"Thank you", I say. "Thanks for everything."
"Thank YOU!" he says, smiling and heads for the door.
"See you at breakfast"?
"Yes, indeed. Good night."
I notice that he has left me with my laptop. Perhaps they are relaxing the rules after all. I reach for it, and click on my GMail. There is one new email in the inbox. I can't believe my eyes at first. I look again. I haven't heard of him in ten years. It is an email from Greta's brother, Eric...
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