Page 78 of The Triangle

I couldn’t have been more goddamn wrong.

Shit.

I guess tonight is not the night.

NOW

“Fuck is this?” Danny asks.

“Rooibos,” I say, placing the steaming mug in front of him. “You don’t like rooibos? Everyone likes rooibos.”

“I don’t,” he says.

“Fine. I also have chamomile, hibiscus, peppermint—”

“Yeah, you got a fuckin’ beer?”

I smile and chuckle at him. “Sure, bru. I got you a brew.” I say the second part in my tragically inept American accent.

He laughs a little bit and shakes his head as I open the fridge and pull out a bottle of cold beer for my old friend. From where he sits at the kitchen island, he glances over his shoulder and says, “Fuckin’ incredible, huh?”

I look at where he’s observing Christine curled up in an oversized, tufted lounge chair. Fast asleep. “Yes, it is. Never known anything like it. I envy her.”

“Being able to sleep anywhere?” he asks.

“Being able to sleep at all.”

I pop the cap and hand him the bottle. He offers me a ‘cheers’ and takes a sip. I sit across from him, sipping my tea. After a moment, I break the silence.

“So, Danny—”

“How long you had this place?” he interrupts.

“Oh, I don’t know. A while.”

“Yeah?” he says, taking another sip from the bottle. “Why’d you get it? You don’t have enough places?”

“There will never be enough places,” I tell him.

He laughs a bit. Sort of a half-resigned, half-contemptuous laugh.

“Danny?” I say.

He waits, as if I’m being rhetorical. I’m not. I genuinely want his permission to go on before saying more.

Finally, he says, “Yeah?”

“I think about you every day, man.” He eyes me cautiously. “I mean it. I don’t say your name out loud because… Because I don’t. But I think about you all the time. Wondering if you’re doing all right.”

He nods. Licks at his lips. Says, “Are you waiting on me to tell you that I think about you all the time too?”

“No.”

“Because I don’t.”

“OK.”

“I’m serious.”