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Smurf.”
    â€œWas that thunder?” Jeff said, looking toward the parking lot.
    â€œGary Clark was part of the Posse ,” said Myron, materializing out of some unknown arc with a startled look on his face.
    â€œCorrect,” Steven said. “ But not in ’85 . Clark, Art Monk, and Ricky Sanders were the members of the Posse, but Sanders wasn’t a Redskin until ’86. There was no Posse in ’85. It didn’t exist. Guys, I explain this every year.”
    â€œSo what group did Clark belong to in ’85?” Trent said.
    Jeff stared at the woman at the front desk.
    â€œNothing,” Steven said. “No group. That’s what you have to keep in mind.”
    IN THE MEN’S RESTROOM off the lobby there were six urinals across from three stalls. Vince entered the restroom, regarded the six unoccupied urinals, and selected, for reasons ultimately too complex to comprehend, the second urinal from the left. He placed his free hand high above his head, palm against the tile, in the manner of one being frisked for weapons. Though alone, he suppressed a sigh. Fat Michael then entered the restroom, and he chose a urinal, the fifth, at a suitable but not gratuitous distancefrom Vince’s. He made this calculation instantaneously, without conscious thought, while whistling “The Coventry Carol.” This spatial arrangement was conventional and propitious, provided a third man did not enter. Gary entered, and he discerned the dreaded 2-5 split, by which means two men in essence had occupied an entire wall of urinals. With reluctance he chose the third urinal, to the right of Vince, and immediately began talking.
    â€œMy wife would like me to piss sitting down,” he said.
    Fat Michael nodded, staring at a piece of blue gum in his urinal that resembled a brain. His wife, too, had asked him to sit down. It was not an unreasonable request. The validity of the request, in fact, was what had made Fat Michael so angrily opposed. Danish men sit down, she had told him, which only made him more recalcitrant.
    â€œShe doesn’t like the mess I make,” Gary said. “She says men in other countries sit down.”
    â€œDo they?” Fat Michael said.
    â€œI don’t know,” Gary said.
    On several occasions through the years, when afternoon sun was illuminating the bathroom in a soft and golden light, Vince had seen his urine splattering out of the toilet while he stood. Honestly, it was like a fireworks show. There was no denying it. His wife, too, had asked him to sit. She had read something about Sweden. When he finished at the urinal, Vince turned and saw, on the glistening floor of the middle stall, a brown canvas bag and two books.
    â€œI tried sitting once,” Gary said. “I did. I was trying tobe considerate. Because one time, when the sun was slanting into the bathroom at the perfect angle, I could see the piss just shooting out of the bowl. Have you ever seen those salmon when they return to their spawning grounds?”
    Of course, of course the other men had seen the salmon.
    â€œIt does make a mess,” Gary said. “But the one time I tried sitting, the only time, my dog came into the bathroom. He’s this old, handsome black Lab with a grizzled snout. You know what I mean?”
    Fat Michael and Vince nodded, solemnly affirming the way that old handsome Labs become grizzled in their snouts.
    â€œHe just looked at me,” Gary said. “And I honestly think he was judging me. I was down at his level, sitting on the toilet, and I just think he totally lost respect for me. I could see it.”
    â€œI don’t think your dog was judging you,” Fat Michael said. He turned from the urinal, eliciting the ferocious automatic flush. On his way to the sink he noticed, beneath the door of the stall, the brown canvas bag and the books.
    â€œI just couldn’t do it anymore,” Gary said.
    â€œYou really should,” Vince