“It’s not like that,” I said.

“It’s exactly like that. I know it. You know it. She knows it. Men cannot be trusted. And it drives women crazy.”

Monty lit another cigarette, blew a smoke ring. It drifted into my face.

“And she’s worth how much? How many millions? She can afford to pull her hair out.”

“Please.”

“Look, Adam, your track record with women isn’t exactly phenomenal. People are starting to wonder, you know.”

“This is your idea of advice?”

“I’m just saying that you have a history of running away from girls who want you.”

That was a low blow. I was shocked that he would dare mention it at all. He was referring to an incident from our childhood. A girl who vacationed with our family. A girl I had a boyhood crush on. Some extremely unpleasant things happened that summer-including our parents’ deaths at the end of it. It was an unfortunate slip on his part.

“You have a history as well,” I said. “How many women has it been now that you’ve allowed the pleasure of your company?”

“Beyond number.” He smiled. It wasn’t much of a jab from me. He was quite proud of his reputation as a Lothario.

“Look, so she’s a little loony tunes. You say she’s pretty. You say she’s rich-”

“It’s her father’s money.”

“And he’s how old?”

“You’re certainly a lawyer.”

“Thank you. Want me to be the best man?”

FIVE

Rachel and I married two years later. Was I attracted to her mental aberrations? Does darkness call to darkness?

The product of our marriage was spoiled. Our son, Albert, was born mentally retarded, and as he entered adolescence and physical adulthood, he became prone to unpredictable outbursts of violence. Secretly, I blamed Rachel for our damaged offspring, and she, in turn, secretly blamed me.