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from money, as had Arthur. Mitchell had turned his back on all that money. Why? Why would anyone give up all that money just to spend the rest of their lives surviving from paycheck to paycheck? Deep down, Arthur knew that Mitchell would never truly be without money, that his parents would be there to give him more money, anything to keep their child safe and free from harm.
    Arthur didn’t know why at first, but that thought saddened him. It was several minutes before he realized that he wasn’t sad but maybe disappointed for the millions of people who did survive paycheck to paycheck with no rich parents waiting in the wings, no safety net to catch them should they fall.
    Arthur rushed to the phone and punched in a number. “Mom?”
    “Yes, dear.”
    “Mom,” Arthur’s breathing was rushed, “Do you remember my eighteenth birthday party?”
    “Remember your eighteenth… Arthur, what’s wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong,” Arthur huffed, “I just… Do you remember Mitchell MacDonald?”
    “Yes, your father and I play golf with the MacDonalds every Saturday. Of course, I haven’t seen Mitchell since he left the law firm, what, oh, about three years ago, maybe?” Arthur heard the concern in her voice. “Arthur, what is going on?”
    “What do you remember about him, Mom?”
    “Well,” she sighed as Arthur waited impatiently, “he was quite large, bad skin, glasses, very unpopular at school, got picked on all the time. I remember his mother was always quite concerned about the teasing.” She sighed heavily again. “I do remember that Mitchell insisted on attending your birthday party because he’d saved up his allowance for many months and pestered his parents for the rest so that he could buy you—”
    “Tickets to the Super Bowl. Mom, I have to call you back.” Arthur hesitated for a moment, before adding, “You know I love you, very much, right, Mom?”
    “It’s still very nice to hear it from time to time, darling.”
    “I love you.” Arthur reached for his keys. “I’ll call you soon.”
    Arthur raced out to the garage and his car, flooded with disappointment and anger when he realized that he did not know where Mitchell lived. He remembered something about the Sheppard station stop of the subway, but he’d never bothered to ask Mitchell anything more.
    Arthur’s mind was a blur, moving too slowly or maybe too quickly. He couldn’t tell. Random thoughts kept coming into his brain. Was that why he’d been nice to Mitchell at the party, because he’d gotten a gift his parents would never have thought to buy for him? How had Mitchell known that attending the Super Bowl was what he wanted most? How much had Mitchell spent on that gift to be ignored and forgotten afterwards? Had he really been in the same room with Mitchell since then and not even noticed? The drunken-driving incident—Mitchell would have had to be in the room to know all of those things, right? And if he hadn’t been in the room and found out about them later, why had he still given him his number at the bookstore? Surely, he wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with the Arthur that wasn’t the Arthur he remembered.
    He’s in love with me. The words echoed in Arthur’s head as he sat there in his car. He’s in love with me. Arthur stared at his cell phone, flipped it open quickly, and dialed Mitchell’s number. No, came the voice in Arthur’s head, he’s in love with someone he thinks you are, or were. Arthur laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement. Surely, Mitchell couldn’t expect him to be the same person all of his life. People change, don’t they? Mitchell had changed.
    But Mitchell had changed into someone who gave away money, willing to take the chance that some of that money found its way to people who really needed it. Mitchell had given up a chance to make a fortune as a lawyer, a lawyer to rich and spoiled clients like Arthur. Mitchell worked as a waiter, a seller in a bookstore. Why? Arthur