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knowing such evil is out there?
Just as the sun rises, I come to the conclusion that I know almost nothing about the man who has sparked all of this in me. Gossip from Charles is not gospel. He may be German, but perhaps he’s not. Perhaps I’ve mistaken his accent. I don’t know his age. He might be younger than I think. He might not have participated in the war. If Charles is correct about the man’s “episodes,” perhaps his home had been bombed, or someone in his family brutally killed. The Russians were not kind when taking a city, and I knew better than many that some American troops weren’t either.
I could drive myself to instability with all these thoughts.
There is only one way of figuring it all out. I will need to see this German again. I will need to investigate who he is to find out who he might have been years ago.
    T
HE day proceeds quietly around me, and somehow I wind up at the little bar with Charles that evening. “I might have found someone for you.”
Having no idea what he is talking about, I raise an eyebrow and take a swig of beer. “I just met someone who has a friend. Just your type.”
    Not that I am interested in this “friend” of Charles’s “someone,” but I ask, “And what’s my type?”
    “Gorgeous. Likes baseball. He’s from Georgia, so he has the nicest way of speaking.” Charles taps the ashes of his cigarette in the light blue glass tray. “And he’s in construction.”
I give him a blank look, then ask, “So I like southern construction workers?”
    His smile spreads like it always does when he teases. The thing I like best about Charles is how undeniably happy he is. His life is filled with the same trials and tribulations as other people— probably even more than most—but through everything, he maintains a peaceful joy that he is excited to share with others.
    “Don’t be coy with me, John.” Charles’s eyes narrow as he leans in close to me. His words are whispered now for dramatic effect. “I know you, and as much as you loathe to admit it, you want someone.”
I shift on the barstool and take a long pull off my Budweiser. “Do you realize that there is—”
    “Don’t change the subject.” Charles pastes a bored look on his face as he makes a show of taking a drag from his cigarette. “You’re bad at it.”
The very edges of my mouth turn up. “You have no idea what I was going to say.”
    He shakes his head. “I’m sure it had something to do with the beer you’re drinking or some ridiculous form of political rule somewhere in the South Pacific. Either way, it’s not on topic. You can’t fool me. I know you want someone. We all do. Who doesn’t want to have some strapping young man waiting for us when we get home, ready to ease away the day’s tension?”
    “A construction worker can ease the day’s tension away?”
No matter what I say to Charles, there’s no denying it would be nice to have someone to share my life with. Coming home to someone who is always happy to see me would be pleasant. Having someone to discuss politics with at the dinner table would keep my mind sharp. It wouldn’t be bad to have someone like that in my life. Someone who cares when I wake up in the middle of the night screaming, drenched in sweat.
I finish my beer and push the bottle away from me, nodding to the bartender to indicate I’d like another. I can’t share my desires with my friend. He’s much too impulsive to handle it all delicately. I’d no sooner share my wish of having someone close to me, and he’d be off, finding the most beautiful men in California to come calling.
I don’t need beautiful men. I don’t need anyone at all, but I need least of all someone who would be more work than he is worth.
I decide to change the subject. “Did Liza say anything else about the German custodian?”
“Aha! Now we have the truth of it!”
I blink and draw my focus back on my redhaired friend. “Excuse me?”
The smile splits his face. He looks as