"Came from a place called Eger, I think, but like I said, man, that was another life. Where are your
people from, Henry?"
I told him the lie and studied him as he listened. The eyes clued me in, the set of the jaw, the
aquiline nose. Put a walrus mustache on him, age Un-gerland a few decades, and he would be a dead
ringer for the man in my dreams. The father. Gustav's father. I shook off the notion as merely the odd
conflation of my stressful nightmares and the anxiety of seeing Tess's old beau.
Jimmy Cummings crept from behind and nearly scared the life out of me. He laughed at my surprise
and pointed to the ribbon hanging around his neck. "Hero for a day," he shouted, and I couldn't help but
break into a broad grin. Little Oscar, as usual, appeared a bit dumbfounded by all the attention, but he
smiled at strangers who tousled his hair and matrons who bent to kiss him on the cheek. Filled with good
cheer, the warm evening passed in slow motion, the kind of day one recalls when feeling blue. Boys and
girls chased fireflies in crazy circles. Sullen long-haired teens tossed a ball around with red-faced
crew-cut policemen. In the middle of the night, when many had already headed for home, Lewis Love
buttonholed me for the longest time. I missed half of what he said because I was watching Tess, who
was engaged in ani-mated conversation with her old boyfriend beneath a dark elm tree.
"I have a theory," Lewis told me. "He was scared, right, out all night, and he heard something. I
don't know, like a raccoon or a fox, right? So he hides out in a hole, only it's real hot in there and he gets
a fever."
She reached out and touched Ungerland on the arm, and they were laughing, only her hand stayed
there.
"So he has this real weird dream—"
They were staring at each other, and old Oscar, oblivious to the end, marched up and joined their
conversation. He was drunk and happy, but Tess and Brian were staring into each other's eyes, their
expressions real serious, as if trying to communicate something without saying a word.
"I personally think it was just some hippies' old camping ground."
I wanted to tell him to shut up. Now Ungerland's hand was on her bi-ceps, and they were all
laughing. She touched her hair, nodded her head at whatever he was saying.
"... other kid was a runaway, but still you have to feel sorry ..."
She looked back my way, smiled and waved, as if nothing had been hap-pening. I held her gaze a
beat and tuned in to Lewis.
"... but nobody believes in fairy tales, right?"
"You're right, Lewis. I think your theory is dead-on. Only explanation possible."
Before he had the chance to thank me or say another word, I was five strides away, walking
toward her. Oscar and Brian noticed my approach and wiped off the grins from their faces. They stared
at the stars, finding nothing better to look at. I ignored them and whispered into her ear, and she coiled
her arm around my back and under my shirt, tracing circles on my skin with her nails.
"What were you guys talking about? Something funny?"
"We were talking about you," Brian said. Oscar looked down the barrel of his bottle and grunted.
I walked Tess away from them, and she put her head on my shoulder without glancing back. She
led me into the woods, to a spot away from the crowd, and lay down in the tall grass and ferns. Voices
carried in the soft, heavy air, but their proximity only made the moment more exciting. She slipped out of
her shorts and unbuckled my belt. I could hear a group of men laughing down by the river. She kissed
me on the stomach, roughly pulled off my shorts. Someone was singing to her sweetheart somewhere far
away, the mel-ody on the breeze. I felt slightly drunk and very warm all of a sudden, and thought for an
instant I heard someone approaching through the trees. Tess climbed on top of me, guiding us together,
her long hair hanging down to frame her face, and she stared into my eyes as she rocked back and forth.
The laughter and voices trailed away, car engines started, and people said good-bye, good night. I
reached beneath her shirt. She did not avert her gaze.
"Do you know where you are, Henry Day?"
I closed my eyes.
"Do you know who you are, Henry Day?"
Her hair swept across my face. Someone blew a car horn and raced away. She tilted her pelvis
and drove me deep inside.
"Tess."
And I said her name again. Someone threw a bottle in the river and broke the surface. She lowered
herself, resting her arms, and we lay together, hot to the touch. I kissed the nape of her neck. Jimmy
Cummings shouted, "So long, Henry" from the picnic area. Tess giggled, rolled off me, and slipped back
into her clothes. I watched her dress and did not notice that, for the first time in ages, I was not afraid of