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We sat that way in total silence for at least a minute, though it felt like longer. I broke first, because just watching him kneel there, head bowed, made me want to comfort him, and that would go badly. Richard didn’t take comfort from me anymore, or at least he didn’t without making me pay for it later. That was a game I was no longer willing to play.

“What’s up, Richard? You wanted privacy for a talk. We’ve got the privacy, now talk.”

He moved just his eyes up at me, and that one look was enough. Angry. It didn’t spill out into his power, or fill the room, but I think that was because he was shielding, probably as hard as I was. “You make it sound easy.”

“I didn’t say it was easy. I just said, you wanted to talk, so talk.”

“Just like that.”

“Hell, Richard, you’re the one who asked for this talk. I didn’t invite you into a private conversation.”

“You asked about the fight with Clair. I don’t want to share that with everyone.”

“You don’t have to share it with me.”

“I think I need to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He swallowed hard enough for me to hear it, then shook his head. “Let’s start over. I’ll try not to be mad, if you try not to pick at me.”

“I’m not picking at you, Richard. I’m trying to get you to talk to me.”

He looked up at me, full face, not so much angry anymore, but not happy. “If a friend had something hard to tell you, would you say, ‘so talk’?”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “No, no I wouldn’t. Okay, how’s this. I’m sorry, you feel like you have to tell me something that is so obviously painful for you. But what I said before is still true, you don’t owe me an explanation about a fight you had with your girlfriend, Richard. You really don’t.”

“I know that, but it’s the quickest way I can think to explain everything.”

I wanted to say, “explain what?” but fought the urge. He was obviously hurting, and I tried not to rub salt into anyone’s wounds. But the call for privacy, and the big buildup was making me nervous. As far as I knew, Richard and I didn’t have anything this important to say to each other. The fact that he thought differently made me downright uneasy.

I sat on the corner of the bed, one hand going to the top of the robe, because even with it belted tight it was gaping. Too big through the shoulders, so it just didn’t fit quite right. I kept one hand on the top and the other hand in my lap, so I didn’t accidentally flash him. I’d been buck naked in front of him for minutes, but suddenly I was all worried about him catching a glimpse. I think it was his comment, that he couldn’t have this talk with me naked. Would I find it hard to talk seriously if he was naked in front of me? I wanted to answer no, but truthfully in my own head, the answer was yes. Shit, I did not need this.

He was back to staring at the floor. I couldn’t stand it. I had to prompt him, but I tried to prompt him more kindly than before. I tried to think of him as my friend and not as the ex who always seemed to rain all over my parade.

“What do you want to tell me about the fight with Clair?” I even managed to keep my voice neutral. Points for me.

He took in a lot of air and let it out, then raised a pair of sad brown eyes to me. “Maybe that’s not where to start.”

“Okay,” I said, voice careful, “start somewhere else then.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know how to do this.”

I wanted to yell, “do what?” but I resisted. But my patience had never been limitless, and I knew that if he continued to be obtuse, I’d blow it. Or my temper would. That gave me an idea: Maybe if I started talking, he’d just jump in.

“It’s been a while since I felt your rage,” I said.

“I’m sorry about that. I lost control, I don’t . . .”

“It’s not a complaint, Richard. What I meant to say was that it felt different than the first time I touched it.”

He looked at me. “What do you mean?”

“It felt, no, it tasted like my anger, like me, almost more than you.”

I had his attention now. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either, but follow my thought. Asher once told me that Jean-Claude had