But one part of Gareth had remained untouched: his faith. Giving the sermon that morning had almost caused him to pass out from heat exhaustion, but he had never forgotten how to smile. His soul was intact.

“Old Gareth!” Gabriel Schist waved from a table at the edge of the deck.

Gareth walked over, stepping carefully. The quarter-of-an-inch gap between every plank was deadly. “Gabriel, always a pleasure!”

Gareth sat down, and Gabriel offered him a strong, sturdy handshake then took a long drag from a cigarette. Smoking? That was new. Gabriel was in his thirties, but he looked younger. His bright red hair and tanned skin glistened in the sun. His grey eyes held the same startling intensity they’d possessed when he was a boy, but dark circles smudged the skin beneath them. In front of him was a tall glass of amber ale. Three other empty glasses stood to one side, and two shot glasses were poorly hidden behind the menu.

“My boy, it’s wonderful to see you again,” Gareth said. “It’s been too long.”

“Two months and seven days, to be exact,” Gabriel replied.

“Why, yes. Yes, I suppose so. Now, why don’t we see each other more often?”

Gabriel lowered his head. “Because I don’t call enough. I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy. I’ll make up for it.”

“Busy times are the best times. Don’t be hard on yourself. We will make up for it.”

Gabriel glanced down at his beer. Sweat dribbled down the sides, forming tiny puddles on the wood tabletop. As if sensing Gareth staring at him, Gabriel protectively wrapped his fingers around the glass.

Gareth cleared his throat. “Anyway, sorry I’m late. After Mass, I met this charming fellow, a new convert, and we talked for a bit. It’s bizarre how merely talking to people wears me out these days. I used to be such a social butterfly.”

“You still are, I think.”

“Perhaps, but these days… you know how you feel right after waking up, before you have your coffee? That’s what old age is like, except no caffeinated concoction can make it go away. Nope, you’re stuck. I’ll tell ya, getting old is a bummer.”

Gabriel chuckled, but he sounded distracted. He took another drag off his cigarette.

“So how are your experiments on the immune system coming?”

Gabriel’s eyes darted to the side. “Stalled. I’m focusing on other things for the time being.” He downed the rest of his drink, wiped the foam from his mouth, and signaled the waitress for another.

The sun disappeared behind the greyish-white blanket of clouds. Gareth gazed out at the Ferris wheel on the pier. “So what have you been focusing on instead?”

“A lot of smaller projects, ideas, fun experiences, that sort of thing. Yvonne and I finally bought a house last month.”

“That’s fantastic! Tell me more.”

“It’s a nice place, big. It was a foreclosure. The last owners wrecked it, so we’ll have to fix it up, but it’s got good potential. You’ll have to see it.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I accept. Thank you for taking pity on the strange, bearded old man in the trench coat. I hope I can be a good houseguest and—”

“Actually, I wanted to see if you could help me fix it up.”

“Me? I’m getting up there in years.”

Gabriel waved dismissively. “Oh, stop. The biggest problem is the nasty little porch. That thing is a piece of junk. I’m going to tear it down.”

“And you want me to help?”

“Sure.” Gabriel nodded. “I’ve drafted a blueprint. We’re going to install a wraparound deck. I’ve estimated that the total work would take me several months on my own, but I believe that you and I could knock it out in less than half that time.”

Building a deck? Years ago, Gareth would’ve loved the idea, but at his age, his bones ached at the mere thought of it. He looked at Gabriel, hoping it was a joke, but his friend’s expression was sincere and hopeful. Gabriel had always possessed the unique talent of being able to get Gareth to do things he didn’t initially want to do. But building a deck at his age and in his condition was an insane notion. “I’m sorry,” Gareth said. “I can’t help you with that. I can’t—”

“It’ll be fun.” Gabriel smiled. “We’ll get started on that next month. Maybe next week we can go sailing and discuss the blueprint? We’ll have some beers, maybe consider what supplies we should use. Oh, and I had some other ideas, too.”

“Ideas?” Gareth said, wincing at the slight whine in his voice.

Gabriel’s eyes glistened. “Let’s go skydiving, Gareth. That’d be amazing, wouldn’t it?”

Gareth frowned, bewildered by Gabriel’s obliviousness to the many ways that old age had torn him apart. But then, he saw through to the deeper problem. It wasn’t that Gabriel wasn’t noticing Gareth’s age; he wasn’t noticing anything. The genius immunologist was so wrapped up in his own pain that the real world had become a mere picture portrait.

“Yvonne, too, of course,” Gabriel continued. “I was thinking we should go skydiving in New Zealand, maybe as early as next summer. Just imagine it. I looked at the map this morning, and I’d estimate that NZ is probably about a twenty-three-hour flight, depending on weather conditions. And I’ve heard that—”

“Gabriel, stop.”

Gabriel looked confused. “Pardon?”

“Let’s talk about science,” Gareth said. “Diseases, autopoiesis. Your work. Something like that.”

Gabriel shook his head. “No, I’m sick of that stuff. Every time the subject comes up, it makes me feel like a failure, okay?” His face was bright red. He was rarely so open about his emotions. Maybe it was the alcohol.

“Don’t say that, Gabriel.”

“But it’s true. For all my bluster and high hopes, what tangible goal have I accomplished? Nobody’s interested in funding my research. I’ve gone up in front of people at least twenty or thirty times, practically begging them, and nobody believes anything I have to say. They think I’m a crackpot.”

“They just don’t know yet. They’ll learn. When you come out with your cure, the scientific community will—”

“How do you know? Look, I’m a laughingstock in my field of choice. I’ve never held any immunology-related job for more than a year. In the eyes of the scientific world, I’m a strange conspiracy theorist with even stranger ideas. So, no. I don’t want to talk about work. Let’s talk about skydiving. See, if you, Yvonne, and I leave for New Zealand sometime in August—”

Gareth laughed then immediately regretted it because Gabriel’s expression became blank and cold.

“What’s so funny?” Gabriel asked.

“I’m sorry. But look at the wrinkles on my face. I’m old.”

“I see them,” Gabriel muttered. “I know the cause behind every symptom of every illness of every person I encounter. I know you’re getting older. I’m not blind. I’m not trying to be callous, either.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m telling you not to give up, goddamn it.” Gabriel slapped the table. “Don’t give up so damn easily! You can still take risks. Still go on thrill rides, still fly out to foreign countries, still jump out of helicopters.”

“But why would I?”

“Because you’ve always loved doing things like that,” Gabriel said with a surprising degree of emotional conviction. “Old age doesn’t mean you have to give up the things you love.”