Chapter 7: And Time Waits for No One

After thirty-five years, a lot had changed, but a surprising amount stayed exactly the same. I was no longer painfully shy — thank God. Rita and I were still very much in love, though I’ll confess I’d strayed a few times. Those long months in Asia (mostly Hong Kong, Singapore, and the Philippines) had a way of testing a man’s fidelity, and the local women kept passing with flying colors. I’m pretty sure Rita had a fling or two during those lonely stretches, but we maintained the polite fiction of perfect monogamy. Don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t ruin a good marriage.

We live in Dallas now. I run my own chemical engineering consulting firm with a fat military contract. Rita heads a thriving pediatric practice. Mark is still Mark — widely regarded as one of Texas’s top trial lawyers by day, and a professional degenerate by night. His third wife, Sheila, gives him the evil eye at his raunchy parties, but she hasn’t managed to civilize him yet. A couple of weeks ago, the four of us (plus Gloria, whom I’ll get to later) got deep into the tequila and ended up stripping naked for a chaotic romp in Mark’s spa. All our kids are grown or in college, so at least we don’t have to worry about traumatizing the next generation.

Liza is finally moving back to Dallas after twenty-plus years in London, putting together massive oil tanker financing deals. She never married and never had kids — apparently, she preferred negotiating with billionaires over changing diapers.