“I guess I’m wondering if the middle school years will be too hard socially,” Vin said. “He already has to deal with other kids playing too rough with him, or making fun of him. I want him to like sports or guitar or drums or something like that. But he wants to be in the goddamn chess club.”

Luka was in a local chess club that met once a week at the community center downtown, Vin said, and one of the kids there had mocked Luka’s behavior. When I asked what this behavior was, he told me that Luka sometimes rocked back and forth during the game, a way to channel his thinking and anxiety, which was not unusual. But it was eccentric behavior for boys not familiar with autism. Vin had witnessed the boy making fun of Luka’s rocking and talked to his mother about it.

“What did she say?” I asked.

He took a bite of his corn on the cob and told me he didn’t want to be around her in that moment, so he stormed out before she had a chance to respond. “She needs to learn to control her goddamn kid and learn some parenting skills,” he said. “Her kid needs to learn how to show some respect.”

At this, I could tell he was getting worked up, bothered by the memory. “Does Luka like any other board games besides chess?”

“He’ll play anything as long as it makes everyone happy.” He took a drink of his beer. “He doesn’t like conflict. Anything too competitive is hard. He isn’t aggressive enough, and I don’t want him to grow up weak.”

“Don’t be such an asshole,” I told him.

“I don’t want him to be bullied. I wish he liked sports.”

“You want him to be aggressive?”

“I don’t want him to be a pushover.”

“He’s so adorable,” I told him. “He reminds me of my brother when he was alive. He looks like him, even.”

I wanted to tell Vin about Ray-Ray then, but it wasn’t the right place. I wasn’t ready yet for that conversation. Still, I grew irritated. “You don’t want to hear about my life,” I said.

“I want to gamble for a while,” he said, not paying attention to me. “We saved money from a free dinner, right? Let’s go play while we’re here.”

I didn’t say anything. I followed him to the slot machines and sat down at a Triple Seven machine and played. I lost twenty dollars quickly, more than I cared to lose. I watched Vin play for a while. At one point he looked around for the cocktail waitress and said he wanted a beer. He handed me a twenty and asked if I’d go to the bar and get him one and buy myself a drink as well. It was this kind of behavior that he was completely clueless about, making assumptions that any woman would immediately do as he told; he was buying my drink, after all, so I’d fetch him a goddamn beer? Or maybe I was wrong, maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe he had gotten away with it for too long. The quick surge of anger I felt toward him surprised me.

“Oh sure, let me just run off and fetch you a beer,” I said. “Okay?”

He kept slapping the button on the machine, his stupid mouth open. He glanced at me. “Don’t be like that,” he said.

“Like what?”

“I’m doing pretty good here. Up forty bucks.” He kept slapping the button and staring into the machine.

On the way out, after Vin had lost over a hundred dollars and was shaking his head in disbelief that he had allowed himself to drain his cash, I suggested we stop somewhere for a drink. “We should go back to my place while Luka’s still with the sitter,” he said, and put his hand on the small of my back as we crossed the parking lot.

“With the sitter there?” I said.

“She won’t mind,” he said. “It’s cool, trust me. She’ll keep him downstairs. She’s cool.”

“I can’t,” I said. “Not tonight, okay? I should check on my parents. My dad’s Alzheimer’s can be difficult for my mom.”

“Right,” he said, but I knew he was pissed off.

He drove me to my house without saying anything. His silence made me uncomfortable. When he pulled into my driveway, I leaned over and put my hand on his leg and rubbed it lightly. I kissed him, running my tongue over his lip, touching his cheek with my hand. He pulled back and gave me a distant look, as if he were unsure what to make of this.

“I’ll talk to you later?” I said.

“Yeah, talk to you later.”

When I got out of the car, he sped away.

I DIDN’T WANT TO THINK about Vin for the rest of the night. I felt wired and anxious, mainly because I was so annoyed by his behavior. I reminded myself that he wasn’t really a very nice person and probably ignored his son too much. I tried not to think about him for a while, but a strong fear came over me. I have always had anxiety, but this was stronger. I worried he would come back to my house and become violent. He would get drunk and return to confront me. I felt a strong spiritual connection to this warning, but I brushed it off and decided to distract myself with chores.

I worked in my backyard in the darkness, raking leaves. I watered the grass, watching the sprinkler spray thin arcs of water around the lawn, and as I watched I saw a hawk swoop down and land across the yard at the base of a tree. The hawk spread its wings and took a few steps. It noticed me, or so it seemed, and it watched me. It wasn’t even midnight, but I still felt troubled.