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why Erik went for me. I was trying to find an algorithm and clone it—isn’t that what people do? Work on things? I knew I was good at interviews, at first impressions. I put people at ease. I was good at making peace with anything, but I couldn’t get my head around Erik.
    Jeevan lit one more joint in the roofless attic of the house under the arch. He’d never asked about Erik and me, as if he understood the whole thing but wasn’t the least interested or surprised. We sat there for a while, looking at the archipelago below us, and then I caught myself murmuring Ian Hunter’s ballad “I Wish I Was Your Mother”:
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  And then I would have seen you, would have been you as a child
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Played houses with your sisters
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  And wrestled with all your brothers
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  And then who knows, I might have felt a family for a while.
    ERIK GRABBED THE TREE BRANCH above him and started doing pull-ups, half in the air, half floating on the sea, counting lifts in Greek. The trees above us filtered the sun. To our right andleft, rocks held us, kept the green waters calm, forming a natural harbor within the sea. I saw small fish cruising against white and black pebbles at the bottom, and each time Erik pulled up, a bit less of his cock rose above the water till I couldn’t see it at all.
    â€œWhat happened to your dick?” I yelled.
    He let go of the branch and splashed into the sea-pool. “Go back to Greece!” he said when he got up. He spit seawater in my face.
    â€œThought I was there for a moment. The sea, you counting in Greek . . .” I spit back but missed him.
    â€œHave you heard yourself speaking English?”
    â€œI try not to speak,” I answered.
    â€œWhen was the last time you were back home?” Erik asked, reaching for the branch again.
    I felt my fleeing-the-army insecurity rising, my Greek manhood threatened. “It’s been a while. Almost two years.”
    Erik glanced my way, pulling up.
    I didn’t say anything either, so he looked at me again.
    â€œI can’t go back. It’s just stupid, really,” I tried, casually. “I haven’t served in the Greek army.”
    Erik smiled. “And how does that make you feel?”
    â€œEducated,” I groaned.
    He did two more lifts before he let his body fall into the water again.
    â€œWell, you’re not the only Greek who skipped that one.”
    â€œLet me guess . . . Constantine!” I smiled.
    â€œNope. His mother’s English. He didn’t have to. Dual citizenship or something.”
    â€œI guess he and I are from different hoods, after all.”
    â€œWe got a chip there, island boy?”
    â€œHell yeah,” I said. “And I can still join Uncle Sam, track him down in Afghanistan, and kick his Harvard ass.”
    Erik laughed. “I never said he went to Harvard, you punk!” He swam onto me and tried to push my head underwater, but I slipped to his side.
    â€œIsland boy!” I said, raising my eyebrows. “How come you’re not in Beacon Hill for Christmas?” I asked.
    I caught his grin before he looked the other way. “’Cause I’m here with you,” Erik said, and I got jitters. The island laws I grew up with took compliments as shameful. A weakness for givers and receivers alike.
    â€œOr in the West Village, writing articles about the West Side Stadium?” I pressed on, pretending I missed his compliment, unable to handle what I wanted the moment it arrived.
    â€œYou spend too much time online,” Erik said.
    I wanted an instant replay— I like being with you is what I wanted to say. But we rarely get a second go at anything, so I marched on, dragged down by sunk cost, betting on offense and hoping to recover by holding on to some principle I might not even have believed in. “Do I, now?” I said. “I