"Don't you think it's time we talked, about what's going on." Fled spoke as he and Rick jogged the neighborhood streets. It was early, before work, the sky a pale blue. But it was loud. Landscapers with power mowers and blowers and trimmers were working the lawns as Rick and Fled ran by.

Rick said, "What?"

Fled shouted. "Things seem off . . . with you."

Rick mouthed silently the words, "can't . . . hear . . . you."

Fled cupped his hands over his mouth. "I just want you to know, I'm here. And so is Rita."

Rick nodded. He couldn't hear a thing. Something about "fear," it seemed.

Fled continued. "It's tough when you're wife is away on business trips, all the time. Believe me, I know."

Rick was watching the men on the lawns, in torn shorts and dirt-stained t-shirts and colorful bandanas. He wondered, do they all know, in advance, to wear the bandanas?

"Believe me," Fled said. "Before Rita was like . . . this. Home all the time, taking care of the kids, me, she was away constantly. Indianapolis. Harrisburg. Wilmington. Exotic places, good hotels. But we missed her. And the excitement of travel, the wanderlust, it soon wore off."

Rick thought, doesn't he know I have no idea what he's saying?

"It soon will for Jenna too. Even though you have no kids. Believe me. Do you think you will have kids?"

A landscaper was using a hedge trimmer to attack a spider web between some upper branches of a big maple. It produced a cloud of smoke, spraying bark dust. He noticed Rick watching, gave Rick the thumbs up and smiled. Rick nodded.

Fled seemed to be waiting for a response from Rick of some kind. Rick said, "Jenna's been on a business trip." Then, again, "a business trip."

Fled didn't understand a word, and nodded, and they headed down Woodland toward Springfield, the main avenue. ...read more Rick and Fled