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surprised. Our lives are there for us to make something of. To do less is a disappointment.”
    “Have you read The Fountainhead?”
    “No, do you think I should?”
    “Yes, I most definitely do.”
    She looked hard into my eyes, as if trying to figure something out.
    “So will you kiss me?” I asked.
    “No,” she replied very quickly and with absolute certainty.
    “But everybody kisses me. It’s like a ritual, maybe even a tradition. Why won’t you kiss me?”
    “Because everybody kisses you.”
    “That’s a real shame because you’re such a pretty tractor.” I began to wonder if the room rate was going to go up if I didn’t stop talking.
    “And although there is a certain charm about a drunken flirty lug, it’s fleeting and I’m better than that.”
    “That is so wise,” I said, sadly knowing she wasn’t going to change her mind.
    “No more trouble for you tonight, big boy. Lights out till morning.”
    She got up from the bed and left immediately. I lay there, unable to let the day or thoughts of her end. After a while I noticed there was a phone on the bedside table. I picked it up and was immediately connected to Veronica at the front desk.
    “You’re supposed to be asleep, Mr. August,” she said kindly.
    “Just one thing and then I’ll be good,” I replied. “Could you connect me to long distance?”
    I waited a brief moment, then gave her the number of my dad.

5
     
    M y father picked up on the third ring. “Dad, it’s me. Sorry, I know it’s late.”
    “Sammy, we’ve been waiting all day to hear from you. You okay?”
    “I’m good. Tired, but good.”
    I brought him up to speed, but I didn’t want to sound too self-indulgent. My father had been struggling in his work over the past years, yet he remained strong and good humored. He always assured my family that the worst had already happened, and better things were coming. His optimism always got us through, and it rubbed off on me. I had always been fearless, but the encounter with Mrs. Barrows made me feel cheap and vulnerable; I needed to reach out to my dad for advice.
    I could see him smiling through the phone. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t use up all your adventures in one day.”
    “You’ve been talking with the blonde?” I asked. “She just told me the same thing before I called you.”
    “But for different reasons, my son. Her agenda is much different.”
    “What’s her agenda?”
    “The answer is the joy of being you. Youth allows you to find out.”
    “So what do I do tomorrow?”
    “Don’t rush into things. Just wait and see where everything goes.”
    From where I was standing, though, there were only two choices: either I slept with the wife of a powerful man who could launch my theater career or I drove out of Plymouth without any other prospects. Even if I did sleep with her, it didn’t guarantee I would have complete control of the theater. She could always use our affair as leverage to get other things from me, or her husband could drive me out of town if he found out.
    “Dad, we both know what’s going to happen.”
    “No, we don’t. Perhaps we think we do, but in truth we don’t.”
    “I don’t want to be some asshole who doesn’t think of consequences until I’ve already screwed up or hurt someone. I want to do what’s right.”
    “You have to play the entire game and make your decisions as you move ahead. Take charge of the situation and don’t let anyone force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I know you—you don’t make bad choices. Trust your instincts and you’ll know what to do.”
    “Okay, Dad. I’ll keep you posted.”
    I hung up the phone, turned on the TV and watched highlights of the Red Sox beating up on the Indians earlier in the day. I dozed off before I heard the final score.

6
     
    T he next morning I headed toward the beach and quickly found my stride. My legs felt strong, and as I ran along the beachfront my feet made a rhythmic,