‘How long since I’ve done this? How long since I’ve had dinner with a friend, since I’ve laughed, really ‘laughed’ without worry?’ Charlie asked himself this question in the middle of a belly aching laugh after the meal was finished. Mileva had produced a roast so succulent that the meat threatened to melt like butter in his mouth.

The rich, savory flavor paired well with the wine from the shop downstairs, the potatoes had a buttery flavor enhanced by sour cream and bacon bits, while the air fried vegetable side had bits of bacon stuck to them as well. ‘Two out of the three dishes have bacon… what was it he used to say…?’ Charlie asked himself for almost a minute before he recalled the first meal he’d eaten with Josef. ‘Oh yes…’ He recalled the way the then much younger and smaller man had thrust a finger up into the air and declared with righteous certainty that, ‘Bacon is justice!’.

‘Weeb.’ Charlie still chuckled at the memory, certain it was a reference to something, he’d never asked so as not to ruin the joke.

The desert consisted of a fresh baked lemon pie with a glaze over the golden brown surface, and that cinched it. ‘Everything here… it’s a favorite of mine…’ It was humbling enough in that moment that he could have cried as he tried to recall the last time he’d had anything that wasn’t microwaved or cold.

He did try to protest, “You didn’t have to go through so much trouble for just me… you know I would have been happy just to… you know, I don’t know-”

“If you don’t know, how should we?” Mileva gave him a little wink of her blue eye to show she was teasing him, and it had been enough for him to blush.

“I mean you didn’t have to go through all this trouble, good company makes even common meals into feasts.” Charlie protested.

“Nonsense, I’ll admit I’m still a bit cross with you Doctor Charlie Manning. But still, you’re Josef’s best friend and he insists you’ve been eating garbage for the longest time. I’m home all day anyway, and I actually like to cook. I’m not only an exceptional theoretical physicist,” she put her hand on her chest and looked up and away, preening with exaggerated confidence, “I’m also an excellent cook. Science begins in the kitchen after all.”

“I think that was just chemistry, dear.” Josef interjected with a boyish grin.

“Josef?” She said without breaking her pose.

“Yes, dear?” He asked innocently.

“Hush.” She said.

“Yes dear.” He made an exaggerated showing of being downcast, but neither could keep their faces straight and they quickly broke down laughing again, and Charlie couldn’t help but enjoy it.

“So you’re not working in your degree field?” Charlie asked.

“No, not that I don’t want to, but competition is fierce right now and it’s hard to get a slot anywhere worth working.” Mileva answered with a regretful sigh.

“After tonight… if you still want to,” Charlie said impulsively, “I’ll make a phone call and you’ll have a job within the day.”

“Wait, what?” Josef and Mileva said at the same moment.

“Sure, I’m Doctor Charlie Manning, damn it! My name on her recommendation list will get her into any institute in the world, it doesn’t matter if they have a slot open or not, they’ll create one for her. She solved one of my equations to get my name and number, I know of only two other people who could do that in a matter of hours, me… and you.” He jabbed a finger toward Josef.

“Thank you!” Mileva squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together, her face lighting up like the sunshine caught in the golden petals of a sunflower.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Charlie said cryptically, and they dug into the dessert.

The pie has been as good as it looked, and that led to the present moment.

“Come on, you know this one!” Josef said as he lumbered back and forth slumped forward with one arm dangling and swaying in front.

“Who does he mean, which of us knows this one, because I sure as hell don’t.” Charlie said with confidence in his ignorance.

“Yeah, me neither…” Mileva added and scratched the top of her head.

The timer dinged.

“Babar!” Josef exclaimed and held his hands out in front of himself, leaning forward toward the guessers. “Come on… that was a gimmie, dear. You loved Babar as a girl.”

“I’m still a girl, thank you very much.” She taunted him and arched her back to thrust her chest out in a taunt, then crossed her arms and let out a snort, “And your impression of an elephant was terrible, how was I supposed to get that?”

“Yeah… I didn’t really get that either, I mean the hint was ‘British Imperialism’, how was I supposed to get ‘Babar the elephant’ from that?” Charlie asked with a snort of his own.

Josef rolled his eyes, “You both slept through everything but math in college, didn’t you?” He drew one hand over his face in greatly exaggerated faux annoyance at both his wife and his friend, then went over to the counter and poured more wine for all three of them.

He glanced at the clock, “Should we play another game or…?” Josef glanced at Charlie, “Do you want to go on with your explanation?”

Charlie accepted the glass offered to him after Mileva, and slowly swirled the wide glass around in between his fingers, the rich dark liquid slid around the sides of the glass, captured, confined, unable to escape the confines of its container, not one drop flew from the whole, and Charlie brought it up to his lips to take a sip. It ran over his tongue with a slight tangy taste which contained all the earthy undertones and subtle tastes that he loved.

“How about if I sleep a little bit longer, and forget all this nonsense?” Charlie murmured, looking down into his glass.

“What?” The couple asked, and Josef took a seat.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s nothing, just a line from a book. Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka.”

“Okay… so… what’s the deal, man?” Josef pressed.

Charlie raised his eyes and looked at the pair, “Alright… I’ll tell you, it’s like stones in my throat. But I’ll tell you. God knows I don’t want to, and if you want to know, I wouldn’t. But I don’t know what decisions you’ll make about your future… such as it is, and what did the professor say about that?” Charlie asked, a long shaking stare was directed at Josef.

“True information is the ideal basis for decisions because it leads most reliably to predictable and favorable outcomes.” Josef recited from memory.

“Right… so… here it is.” Charlie said, then brought the wine glass to his lips and drained it down to the last drop with two quick, successive and audible gulps.

“Ah, but before I say it… listen, Mileva… I’m sorry I never called you back, I don’t remember seeing your call. But you’re as pleasant as I imagined you would be. Josef is a lucky man. And Josef… you’re the best friend anyone could ask for, you’re like the definition of a good friend. Hell, if they look up ‘good companion’ in the dictionary, your face will be there and nothing else.”

“Ah, thanks Charlie, really but… why tell us all that first?” Josef asked, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably on his wide leather chair.

“Because once I say this, you’ll probably ask me to go, and if I don’t see you again after this… or if…” Charlie coughed uncomfortably, ‘if you lose it and kill me,’ the thought came to mind, but he couldn’t say it, “anyway if we don’t speak again, I wanted you to know that much.”

“Charlie… I’ve got to be honest, I thought you were dying, or suffering from depression or… I don’t know, but the way you talk now, that’s not the case, is it?” Josef prodded.

Charlie nodded. He glanced over to Mileva, “Do you remember a bedraggled guy buying liquor at some point and telling you that the textbook you were reading was a ‘dangerous subject’ by chance, Mileva?”

She frowned a little, “Yeah… I assumed it was a schizophrenic homeless man, that was… god that was forever ago.”

“That was me.” Charlie replied, “I looked like shit and probably smelled worse… but that was me.”

She narrowed her brow and gave him a long look, he could see on her oval face that she was trying to put the pieces together, picturing him with a scruffy beard and worse. “It was you… wasn’t it?”

Charlie bowed his head and set the empty glass down.

“Yes, yes it was. I looked a lot different then… I’m only like this now…” Charlie waved his hand up and down in front of him to encompass his whole body, “because your big oaf of a husband took the time to help me get myself together a little bit. Honestly without him I’d probably still be like that.”

“Thanks, but… I didn’t really do anything.” Josef replied, “Just a few meals and a little light cleaning.”

“You cleaned?! Other than the store, I can barely get you to put your socks away.” Mileva accused him and looked with almost dismay at her husband.

“I just like seeing my wife bend over.” He said with a rakish grin.

“Pervert.” She muttered without real anger, and for a moment the promise of unfortunate details was almost forgotten.

Except by Charlie. He couldn’t forget.

He wanted to.

But he couldn’t.

And when they left the moment of marital humor and teasing, they put their attention on him again.

“So this is it… it was fun while it lasted.” He said so softly that they couldn’t hear him say it.

He cleared his throat one more time and began to speak.

The pair leaned forward intently, his words so quiet that he wasn’t sure they could hear him at all.

Then he shot up in his bed in a cold sweat, the alarm beside his bed was blaring endlessly, a constant offkey beep of the worst, most obnoxious kind. There was also a pounding on his door that, loud as it was, was not louder in his head than the pounding of Charlie’s on heartbeat.

His hand covered his bare chest where the salty sheen of sweat began to run down around his fingers or get caught in the space where they connected to his palm.

He heard the heavy familiar knocking and knew who it was, calculating height and probable range of motion plus the impact on the door with the most likely noise level, ‘Josef.’ Charlie knew it before the giant of a man could even announce himself. But the knocking, the buzzing, all of it was far away, like the sound of rocks cracking together under deep water, muffled and unclear.

Everything was farther away, and stayed that way, while he struggled to stop his own heart wrenching fear and the hot, heavy breathing that reminded him of the aftermath of a marathon… but without the proud and happy sense of accomplishment that went with it. ‘Running… but not.’ He made the shoddy, sloppy analogy, and still hadn’t found a better one before he could, after repeated slaps, at least stopped the stupid alarm, if not the knocking outside that, in its way, was far, far worse.