"Where did you live in Colorado ?"
"In the mountains," I say. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Sure. What do you have?"
"Water."
He laughs. "Sounds perfect. As long as you'll join me."
"Gladly. I might have a bottle of wine as well. Do you drink?"
"I have a beer every now and then."
We head for the kitchen. "Wine is much better, red wine. Do you eat meat?"
"I'm not a vegetarian, if that's what you mean. Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering," I say. He is so darling, it is hard to resist nibbling on him.
We have a glass of wine together, standing in the kitchen. We drink to world peace. Ray is anxious to get to work, he says. He is just anxious. Alone with a mortal, my aura of difference is greater. Ray knows he is with a unique female, and he is intrigued, and confused. I ask how Pat is. May as well confront his confusion.
"Fine," he says.
"Did you tell her you were coming to visit me?"
He lowers his head. He feels a twinge of guilt, but no more. "I told her I was tired and wanted to go to bed."
"You can sleep here if you want. Once you bring in the beds."
My boldness startles him. "My father would wonder where I was."
"I have a phone. You can call him." I add, "What does your father do?"
"He's a private detective."
"Sounds glamorous. Do you want to call him?"
Ray catches my eye. I catch his in return. He doesn't flinch as his father did under my scrutiny. Ray is strong inside.
"Let's see how it goes and how late it gets," Ray says carefully.
He sets to work. Soon he is huffing and puffing. I help him, but only a little. Nevertheless, he comments on my strength. I tell him how I befriended Seymour and he is interested. Apparently Seymour is a friend of his as well.
"He's probably the smartest guy in the school," Rays says, lugging in a couple of dining room chairs. "He's only sixteen years old and he'll be graduating in June."
"He told me he likes to write," I say.
"He's an incredible writer. He let Pat read a couple of his short stories, and she gave them to me. They were real dark, but beautiful. One was about what goes on in the space between moments of time. It was called 'The Second Hand.' He had this character who suddenly begins to live between the moments, and finds that there is more going on there than in normal time."
"Sounds interesting. What made the story dark?"
"The guy was in the last hour of his life. But it took him a year to live it."
"Did the guy know it was his last hour?"
Ray hesitates. He must know Seymour is not well. "I don't know, Lara."
He has not used my name before. "Call me Sita," I say, surprising myself.