Tracy enters the office after James ends the call from Gus. She closes the door and leans against it. Her skirts aren’t as short as they were before the event, but she still shows a shapely leg, knee-down.

“The Giannis are vibrating,” she reports. But she needn’t have closed the door to tell him that, so James knows there will be more. “Three calls from Gino, two from Sal, only one from Tony. Sal wants to sic the health department on the deli. I know, I know…it will cost Sal as much as anyone else.

“Listen,” she says with decision. She walks toward James’s desk but then veers and starts to pace before it. “It’s not my place but I can’t help saying something. I can tell that you’re not happy right now. I’m not sure why, but I suspect you may understand yourself. What I want to say is: oh, a few months ago, something happened to me. Some things. I had a man die on me. I actually cared for Rich. But when anyone dies close to you, it makes you look at life a little differently, you know?” James nods, but Tracy isn’t watching. “I got possessive about my life. I got angry about the fact that I had been letting Rich do things I didn’t want. I decided I’m not taking it any more. I’m going to learn to speak up. Softly I hope.

“You’re clearly not happy, James. Maybe you need to blow off this Portals thing. Or maybe it’s something more.” By now, James is smiling quietly at her. She meets his eyes for a second. He thanks her with unusual warmth. He watches her leave his office, soft dark hair shining as it moves when she walks, and involuntarily remembers her pinned helpless under Rich, his bad heart exploded within him.

Tracy is on a break when the call comes in from Jane. James and his twin sister usually don’t speak often, but they’ve lately been discussing a nursing home for their mother. They’re not particularly close to each other, or to their mom, against whom they hold their names among many other banalities. Being twins, however, they’ve been hyper-aware of other twins; after meeting Charles/Carol, and Michael/Michelle, they know it could have been worse.

“James,” he says by way of answering his phone.

“Jane,” she answers. “What are you up to?”

“Contemplating illness, and playing with a paper clip.” He reaches for his paper clip assortment, piled in a square pocket at the right front of his middle desk drawer. He starts to unbend one.

“Mom’s illness?” This is in reference to the slight stroke their mother just suffered, while having the bluing bleach rinsed out of her hair at the neighborhood salon, when the cold porcelain of the shampoo bowl finally cut off the flow in her one till-then open neck artery.

“No. Actually, I’m supposed to be contemplating the theme ‘My Favorite Illness’ for a psychobabblative meeting tonight. Shall I do our stones?”

“What’s favorite about stones?” Jane rejoins without hesitation.  James and Jane bear no resemblance to each other, except that they both have a tendency to kidney stones.  None of the boy/girl twins they’ve known look alike, except an interesting set James met recently: Jack (female), who works at the bank the firm uses; and her brother Jim. They’re interesting because they’re each gay, and because Jim is actively HIV positive, meaning he has health care resource material helpful to James and Jane with respect to their mother.

“That’s true. I guess I only mention them because I’m at a loss for a subject, and because I passed one last week. I’m getting good at it. I recognized the pain when I woke up Friday, called in sick, downed two Vicodin, and took to my bed with a gallon of cool water. I drowsed and drank and drowsed and drank. Passed the thing about 3 PM and was wiped out for a day and gut-tender for three more. But when I compare it to the first time…”

“It still hurts. You’ve just learned how best to cope with a day of hell.”

“They say it hurts more than having a baby.”

“Not. I’ve done both. I’ve done kidney stones four times, and babies twice. Babies hurt more. But you know what hurts most? A shot of novocaine behind and between the upper front teeth. Now that’s pain…”

James’s other line rings. Tracy is still away from her desk. James should just let it go to voicemail, but he has a hard time ignoring a bell. He releases Jane and picks up the other call on its fourth ring.

He shouldn’t have done it. The voice is Sal Gianni’s, and the conversation is long and unrewarding. By the time James extricates himself, he feels frustrated and rushed. His phone rings again. He almost manages to let it go, but…

“James.”

“Honey?” It’s Hannah’s voice, but she never starts a conversation that way.

“Yes?”

“I know you told me earlier, but when are you going to be home tonight?”

“Around ten thirty. What’s wrong, Hannah?  Are you okay?”

“I’ll be all right. I’m just a little ill.”

“What is it?”

“Really. I’m okay. I have a slight fever. Around 100°. No other symptoms. I came home early. I’m cozy in bed. I’ll see you later.”

James is envisioning. Bright eyes. Flushed skin. He starts to grin while looking upward unfocused. “Hannah,” he says. “I just realized I’m not going to the meeting. I’m coming home.”