.” and she made a gesture I could only surmise was meant to indicate that I was gay.“No, I’m looking for my father.”“Oh!” she said. “Goo...! Young men should have a father.”“I need to know if he stayed here a few months ago.”“We have a lot of people stay here. I’m not sure.”“If you could look it up on the computer or in a sign in book?”She stared at me for a few seconds and then a song broke the silence. “Time’s up!” she said. Then she grabbed a smart phone and killed the music. She grinned,. . well, not pyrotechnic exactly, but it was loud and lively. Becka was all for walking in the next day and quitting her job so she could move to Des Moines. Not to live with me, mind you, that would be too much for her parents to bear, but to live near me, as she did now; to spend her nights with me, as she did now; to keep loving me from as close as possible, as she did now. The heated discussion led to a heated adjournment to the bedroom, as tangled clothes and limbs and lips became brief. More

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