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soon as Silas left, Greg locked the back gate. “It’s still sick,” he said, rolling to the table.
    “Huh?”
    “The thing with Lil and her son.”
    “Yes, that. Sorry, I hadn’t switched back to that topic yet. Guess I was afraid of getting brain whiplash.”
    Greg chuckled and positioned himself at the end of the table to my left. He lifted his beer in my direction. I lifted my own bottle of beer, and we clinked them together.
    “Here’s to us, sweetheart. We may be crazy, but at least we’re not sick.”
    I grinned at my husband. “Well, at least in our eyes we’re not.”
    Working in silence, we each dressed our potatoes. Greg garnished his with butter, shredded cheddar cheese, and fresh ground pepper. I preferred butter and sour cream. But even as I prepared to dig into the fluffy, perfectly cooked innards, I couldn’t stop thinking about Lil and her online activities. I was rather glad Silas hadn’t stayed for dinner. Otherwise, Greg and I would have had to delay our conversation. Serial killers and online trysts were hardly dinner conversation for a preteen.
    “Greg, I know you used to meet women online.” He looked up, curious about where I was heading. “Did you ever pretend to them about who you were?”
    “You mean, did I ever lie to women about being in a wheelchair?” He paused before answering. “Yes, all the time, at least for a while.” He pushed his potato toppings around, concentrating on smooshing them deeper into the hot middle of the spud. Finally, he looked up at me. “It was difficult for me to meet women. I’m sure you realize that, Odelia.”
    I nodded in understanding and gave him an encouraging smile. Greg had injured himself when he was just a few years older than Silas. It had happened while he and his cousins were performing daredevil actions while crossing a wet and rickety bridge high over a river. The other boys made it; Greg didn’t.
    “At first,” Greg continued, “I told them the truth but couldn’t get anywhere. No one would meet me, except for the few hookers I stumbled across in some of the chat rooms. But I was looking for someone nice, a woman I could build a life with.” At the end of this remark, he gave me a look so electric with love that it nearly stopped my heart.
    “Then I started letting the women I met online assume I was just a regular guy, hoping when they met me they would think I was so terrific, the chair wouldn’t matter.” He picked up his beer and gave a short snort before taking a drink. “But that didn’t work either. In fact, that was a total disaster.”
    He’d told me a few of those painful experiences. We were both treasures—Greg in his wheelchair, me with my extra poundage—that most people weren’t willing to dig beyond the surface to discover. But in the end, we’d magically found each other.
    “Finally, I got it through my skull that the type of woman I wanted, the type who’d be able to love and accept me paralyzed from the waist down, would have to be the type who wouldn’t shrink at first glance. After that, I started being very open and honest about my situation. And I did meet some wonderful women by being truthful. Maybe not as many, but while the quantity went down, the quality went up. In the end, the truth was the best route. It usually is, don’t you think?”
    I thought about that as I cut a piece of steak. Greg was right. Even I had discovered that in my sketchy pre-Greg love life. Blind dates where the man was surprised by my physical appearance almost never went well, but those with an idea of the packaging beforehand took the time to get to know me.
    “I totally understand why Lil did what she did, Greg, even if I don’t agree with it. But in her case, she wasn’t looking to meet the love of her life. She just wanted the fantasy of feeling young again and to hear men tell her she was desirable. Throughout history, lots of people have died searching for the fountain of youth. Brian Eddy makes a damn