Doug nods. “Then I guess it’s just a matter of time.”

He winks at me.

I can’t help but smile.

The three of us cross the parking lot together. I feel fine, but Diane holds my arm every step of the way.

Doug is reminiscing.

“I never once locked my doors until I went to college, and you want to know why I started?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Because people kept coming in and taking my dope. Never because of this shit.”

“It’s a different world.”

“And one I don’t understand,” he says. “It’s like I woke up one day and everything was off-kilter. Not a lot, but enough to where all the rules have changed.”

“I think that’s called old age.”

“I never locked my doors growing up,” Diane says. “Now, I never leave them unlocked.”

“See, your wife agrees with me.” He looks at her, asks, “Where did you grow up, hon?”

“Name a place. My father was in the military so we moved a lot, base to base mostly.”

“Military bases are safer than cities,” I say.

“Obviously, you’ve never lived on one.”

“Not everyone grew up like you did, Jake. Some of us remember a time when you didn’t need to look over your shoulder when you stepped outside.” Doug points at my bandaged hand. “And this kind of thing was unheard of. If they wanted your ring so bad, why didn’t they just make you take the goddamn thing off?”

“You see?” Diane pulls at my arm. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell you the truth,” Doug says. “I’ve had enough. A couple more years teaching, and I’m done. I’ve got a little place on the beach in Mexico. All mine. It’ll be me, a few drinks, and the waves.”

“Sounds nice,” Diane says.

“It’s beautiful. I’ll make sure to have the two of you down for a visit. You can see for yourself.”

No one says anything else until we get to Doug’s car.

“I’ll talk to Anne Carlson about rescheduling the meeting,” Doug says. “She won’t mind, considering the situation.”