Things were bizarre at work, and not peaceful at home. It was a good thing that Julie’s old house was large, for she and her dog had recently had to open it to Jess and Keith (between apartments and jobs, just for a little while) and to Julie’s friend Liz (recuperating from a brief bad marriage). And she missed her usual talks with her friend Mark; they’d made the mistake of trying to have sex together, and it would take time to normalize them back to comfort.

They never should have done it. They really liked each other but the chemistry wasn’t there. Mark was a slight man – 5’8″, 140 pounds, a size 8 foot – and he was only aroused by petite women, preferably pretty. Julie was 5’6″ and not overweight at 160, but she was sturdy. She wore a size 11 shoe. Her hands were larger than Mark’s. She was more handsome than pretty, and she was attracted to big men. She liked a long thigh, a strong forearm. She was a forceful woman and needed to feel a little swallowed by the man. Julie and Mark were not each other’s type.

But a month earlier they shared a romantic escapade. Their mutual friend Liz was in trouble and together they rode to her rescue. She had recently married her fifth husband, the 68-year old boy she left behind. They’d flirted in the 1950s but had gone their separate multi-marital ways. A year ago Pete found Liz again, through Classmates.com, swept her off her normally prudent feet, and prevailed upon her to forsake her fourth husband, retire, and move a thousand miles north to be his bride.

If it had just been about sex and vacations, the marriage might have worked. But Pete was consumed with his own diminishing future, obsessed with regrets about his failed marriages, and determined to spend every remaining minute with Liz-his-love. He wouldn’t fly because that would mean forsaking the other obsession – his 10-year-old dog – so he had trapped Liz in his love plans, thrown tantrums whenever her prior life intruded on his day’s activity, railed at her for daring to disagree. He tried to swallow her whole life, and within four months he managed to override the hardwiring in her that had made her want him.

Julie and Mark rode to her rescue, and on the way they tried to make love.

At first it went surprisingly well. They kissed alike – gentle, exploratory – and they were moved. Surrounded by ripe peaches, excited by conversation, on their way to bring Liz back, their mouths sought and sank together in unison. And Mark had a delicious quirk; when they pulled away from a deep kiss he wiped Julie’s upper lip with the side of his thumb, authoritative like a squeegee.

It was one of those pull-aways that undid them. Their eyes met and Julie recognized her old friend Mark, with a start. She couldn’t help giggling, and her normally elevating laugh had the opposite effect on him.

Worse…they must have rolled around for at least another quarter hour, seeking whatever frictive stimulation they could, straining with their individual minds to perform adequately for each other. Alas…

Julie no longer remembered how they got through the rest of their trip. It helped once they had Liz aboard; then they didn’t have to be alone together.

And now it had been a month. Mark had hardly even checked in with Liz. But he had invited them to dinner at his place, that night. And Julie suspected her current weird feeling of well-being, this lightness in head and chest and unfounded optimism, must signal that she thought Mark was going to somehow ease her problems.

As if. He couldn’t make the dog’s chronic allergies or acute cancer go away. He couldn’t make Jess and Keith go away, or Keith go to work. And the last thing Mark was going to do, having just provided the getaway vehicle for Liz, would be to chase her away. But Julie knew he’d help. Mark always helped. If nothing else, his stories helped.