“That does sound weird,” Phoebe says.

“And that’s not even the end of it,” he says. He turns to her. “If I tell you something, will you put it in the vault?”

“What vault?”

“The one they keep at the Swiss fucking banks, the one you need blood samples to access.”

She makes the sound effect of a door opening. “That’s the opening of the Swiss vault.”

“I liked Lila first,” Jim says.

“What do you mean?”

“Before Gary met her, I worked a job on the street outside Lila’s gallery. Kind of a random thing, brought in by the state to consult on the construction of this new sewer drain they were thinking of putting in, which meant I was always standing out there on her street, watching Lila go in and out. Girl took a lot of coffee breaks. Went in and out nearly thirty times a day, never once saying hello to me, but I could tell she was looking at me. I could tell we were locked on to each other and that I should say something. But I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to be one of those guys who hits on women just because they’re walking on the street. And I couldn’t just go in the gallery with my greasy hands and start talking about Monet, either. What the fuck do I know about Monet?”

“He was a French impressionist.”

“Thanks, Professor. Would have been helpful to know then.”

“So what did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said. “And eventually Lila came out and called me on it. On my last day, she saw me packing up the truck and came right up to me and said, ‘Are you seriously going to watch me walk by a thousand times and say nothing? How much coffee do you think I drink?’ And I was done for basically at that moment. I was like, I’m working my way up to it, give me some time, and then she said, ‘I’m out of time.’ And I was like, Are you dying or something? And she said, If I were, wouldn’t that be a very impolite question? And then she told me her father was the one dying and the doctor gave him three months to live and she burst into tears.”

“In the middle of the street?”

“Yeah,” he says, half laughing at the memory of it. “She just broke down right there in front of me.”

“What did you do?”

“I held her,” he says. “After my sister died, that’s what helped me. People who just let me fucking cry. Like Gary. He didn’t try to fix it or solve the problem. We both knew nothing could fix it. I just wanted to be sad, but not sad alone. And so I just held her, let her cry. And it was weird how it wasn’t weird at all. I went home, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How bold she was. How she just cried like that, in front of a total stranger. In front of me? She didn’t even know me, I was just some dude on the street, but she trusted me, you know? It felt special. So the next weekend, I went back to see her with Gary. But I didn’t tell Gary he was my wingman. I didn’t think he’d come. Who wants to be someone else’s wingman when they’re depressed on their wedding anniversary? And I genuinely thought it’d be good for Gary to do something for a change. That kind of shit always cheered him up. He and Wendy went to galleries all the time. So two birds, you know?”

“Two birds.”

“And then we’re in the gallery, and Lila and I see each other right away but don’t say anything. I’m just walking around the whole place, pretending to look at these paintings, and it’s so hot, you know? Like we both know we’re going to talk to each other, we both know that’s why I came, we both know I don’t give a shit about whatever painting Gary is looking at, I’m just secretly trying to figure out how I’m going to ask for her number. And when Lila finally came over, it felt like my chance.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘So what’s up with this naked woman?’”

“What did Lila say?”

“She laughed. She was like, To be honest, nobody really knows what’s up with this naked woman.”

“Sounds like Lila.”

“Gary was embarrassed. Started asking her all these very appropriate questions, like who is the artist, and is this acrylic, blah blah blah, but I knew that for the first time in my life, I said the right thing somehow. At the right time. I made a woman laugh, at an art gallery no less.”

“So, wait, what happened then?”

“She handed us her card, said to call if we changed our minds about buying the painting. I really thought she was giving it to me. But Gary was the one who took it. Slipped it right into his wallet, and we left. I was going to ask Gary for it a few days later. But then I’m at his house for Juice’s birthday that Friday, and Gary says, ‘You’ll never believe who came into my office today. That woman from the art gallery.’ Just a total fucking coincidence. He seemed really rocked by it. Said something about her father being sick, but he was optimistic. Thought he could give the man a few more years. Then asked me if I thought it was weird for him to go out with her, and I was just like, Gary, if I’m your ethics board, you’re in trouble. And he laughed and they started dating and the rest is history.

“But man, I was disappointed,” he says. “I know everyone thinks I’m a shithead, and maybe I was. But the pandemic really fucked with me. In a good way, maybe. It was just me, all of the time, in my apartment. Just me, and at a certain point, I thought I was going mad, you know?”

“I know.”

“I could finally see why people got married and shit. Like, even if it doesn’t last forever, I could see why it would still be worth it. I think I already felt it when I hugged Lila on the street that day. I just got this strange feeling. Like, This is the woman. This is your chance. She just walked right up to you on the street so fucking hold on to her.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell Gary that?”

“I hadn’t heard Gary talk about another woman since my sister died. So I just … gave it to him. I felt for the guy,” he says. “He was so amped up. Like it had to mean something. Like this was all proof that the universe was good again. I couldn’t take that from him. And the truth was, I was still going through my shit. And I didn’t really know Lila. How did I really know she was the one?”

“And now that you know her?”

He laughs. “Oh, she’s something.”

“What do you like about her?”

“She’s just funny,” he says. “You expect her to be this one thing, and sometimes she is, around everybody in the family, but if it’s just us, she’s different. She’s honest. Sharp. Smart. Cuts right through me, calls me on my shit. Talks a million miles an hour.”

It sounds like the way Lila is around Phoebe.

“They don’t talk to each other that much,” Jim says, turning to look at Phoebe. “You notice that?”

“I do.”

They were always standing next to each other, talking to other people.

“Gary’s different around her,” he says. “Quiet. And I don’t know. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe he’s happy. And if he’s happy, I’m genuinely happy for him. I don’t want the guy to be miserable forever.”

“But…”

“But he doesn’t seem happy. Not like he was with my sister.”

“Maybe he’s just different now.”

“But he’s not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought the Gary I knew died with my sister that day,” Jim says. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. But then I saw you and him talking on the boat.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He talks to you the same way he talked to my sister.”

“How is that?”

“Like himself,” Jim says. “It’s been nice, watching. Nice to see him come out to play again. After all these years.”