“Oh, I was just thinking about that song they’re doing now. We used to sing it when I was a kid. There’s about a thousand verses.” I take a long pull from my beer.

“I didn’t know you used to sing, too. Is that when you learned the harmonica?” Her voice trembles just a bit, but the part of me controlling the mouth doesn’t seem to notice. I’m on automatic.

“Um, yeah. Some of the other kids with folks at the Institute and I, we formed the Stygian Stegosaurus Band. Thought we were pretty hot shit. We played frat houses and the like. Nothing serious. Father bought me a banjo, but it never really took like the piano.”

My next exhalation feels like a sigh. The song ends and so does the set. I look around and everything is peaceful, but I still check twice. When I was in the service I used to be able to smell trouble. Now I have to use my eyes.

Now, stop that. Don’t think about the service! What’s gotten into you, anyway?

I’m tired of yelling at myself. What a rotten day.

I turn to talk to Elise… Now, what’s she got that look on her face for? What is it, amazement? Hope? Fear?

Oh, boy. What I just said.

Think… Father… I never mentioned my father before, though she used to try to draw me out about my past.

And the Institute! And music, my childhood… the piano.

There is a haze in front of me, a barrier of palpable grief. It hangs like a portcullis, cutting off escape. By touch I grab up the beer and swallow to hide the turmoil on my face. Think. Think.

The band’s name she’ll bleep out. Probably thinks it’s dirty. Must recoup the rest. How? Make the Institute… “the Institution”?… A place for delinquents? Father could become “Father Murphy,” a kindly priest…

I can envision my old man grinning at me now. “See?” he’d say. “See how hard it is to maintain a good lie?”

I put the beer down without looking at her. “I’m going for a walk. Get some air. Tell Joey I’ll be right back, okay?”