Reg sat in the kitchen, doing not much of anything. "Hey, want to go take a walk on the boardwalk?" Zephyr suggested.

"Boardwalk," Reg said after a moment. "Yes."

"Great! Grab your jacket."

Zephyr located his most comfortable shoes, a cheap, grubby pair of sneakers size 7EE with the laces loosened for additional width and the empty spaces filled by homemade foam inserts. He went to the coat closet and handed Reg his jacket and then donned his own. He then got the car keys from the hook on the fridge. The beach was just over a mile from their house, but Zephyr knew from experience that he couldn't walk that far and still have energy to spare for the boardwalk itself. He preferred to tolerate five minutes of driving anxiety and save the walking for the beach itself.

It was a chilly evening and the boardwalk was nearly deserted. That was one thing Zephyr appreciated about March - the crowds had yet to appear. Reg parked the Buick in the nearly empty lot at the quieter end. In warmer weather, the two of them often took their shoes off and wandered directly down to the beach from here; if they arrived late enough, they often had the area to themselves. This time, however, it was too cold to venture off the wooden promenade into the sand.

Reginald reached for Zephyr's hand and they walked in silence for a little while. Zephyr reached up and removed his hair elastic so his hair could fly around in the chilly ocean breeze. It would be hell to comb out when he got home, but for now it felt good. Warmer, too... when it wasn't being blown back, it protected his face and ears from the chill.

He made an attempt to start a conversation. "Hey Reg, Connor really likes your drawings. He wants..." Keep it slow, he reminded himself. Don't dump too much on Reg at once. "He likes them."

"Connor," Reg said absently. "Connor... who?"

"You know Connor. Young guy, kind of big... he works with us. He's my assistant."

"Connor... Connor is big. Big heart. Loud heart. Moving... always moving."

"Yeah!" Zephyr exclaimed, grinning. "That's Connor." He thought about that heart comment and recalled that conversation they had a while back, the result of the speech board argument, when Reg tried to explain that he could read people's emotions by listening to their heartbeats. Was that really true? He wondered if Reg could feel his heartbeat at that moment, and what it was telling him.

It had come up in that discussion about Reg's memory, as well. Zephyr wanted to know more about that. He knew almost nothing about Reg's past, not even his exact birth date. If only Reg were better at sharing important information.. or at least better at giving descriptions. Maybe more prodding would help.

"Remember that woman you told me about?" Zephyr asked. "The woman who was cooking?"

Reginald didn't respond. Zephyr waited. Reg started to say something, but didn't.

Zephyr tried again. "In your memory; the woman who was cooking. And talking. She was worried. Do you remember?"

Reg hesitated. "Woman," he said. "No. I see..."

"What do you see?"

Reg pointed up ahead. They were approaching an ice cream stand, closed for the season with its windows boarded up. Beyond that, were a couple of parked cars and half a bicycle.

"What? Ice cream? A hut? Cars?"

"No," said Reg. "Not all those. Not all those."

Zephyr didn't feel up to guessing what Reg was trying to say. He could try all night without getting anywhere, and he was already feeling the strain all this walking put on his feet. Maybe he should just forget it. But Reg pointed again, and Zephyr decided that if it mattered that much, he wouldn't let it slide. He thought of an idea.

"Let's play a game. I don't know if you remember, but we used to play games like this years ago. This one's called, 'I see.' Look at something and then describe it, using as many adjectives as you can think of. Okay?"

"Yes," Reg replied.

"All right, I'll start. I see an old, white, dirty, chipped sign with a picture of pink ice cream on it."

"I see it."

"Good! Now find something, find an object and describe it to me," Zephyr encouraged him.

Reg glanced around and settled on one of the cars to their right. "I see an aluminum, chrome, chrome chrome shining... hubcap with radial symmetry."

Zephyr chuckled. Reg had a way of taking the mundanity out of anything, he thought. "Okay, my turn. Hm. I see a curved, wooden, unpainted bench bolted to the boardwalk."

"I see..." Reg said as he stopped to look, "a spherical... shadowed......... crater... I see, Zephyr, I see the Sea of Tranquility."

Zephyr followed his gaze to the moon and stared at it. "Oh yeah? Which one is that?" He quickly realized Reg wouldn't be able to answer that question and did his best to take it back with a little white lie. "Oh yeah, I see it now."

He smiled at Reg, and Reg squeezed his hand gently. They resumed walking.

"Okay, my turn again. I see..." He saw a teenage couple just ahead of them. The kids sat perched atop one of the benches and watched them approach. The way they stared made Zephyr nervous, but they were so close now that he was afraid that turning around would be an obvious giveaway of his discomfort. He stared purposefully past them and tightened his grip on Reg's hand.

The teenagers made no move toward them, but they continued to stare. As he and Reg passed abreast of them, Zephyr distinctly heard the girl say, "Told you it was a guy." Her boyfriend made a hooting sound that was thankfully dulled by a gust of wind. To his even greater dismay, a much larger group of kids lurked not far ahead of them, taking up nearly the entire width of boardwalk. Zephyr shivered; the cold was beginning to penetrate his light jacket, his feet hurt, and he was tired. He wondered whether Reg could hear his heart pounding. If Reg sensed his anxiety, he knew he would try to comfort him with a show of affection.

Sure enough, Reg stopped and tried to catch Zephyr up in his arms. Zephyr fended off the embrace, and for once Reg allowed the resistance. "Listen, man," Zephyr implored him, looking into his face in an attempt to make eye contact, "we have to go back to the Buick."

"The Buick," Reg repeated as he returned the gaze, if not into Zephyr's eyes, at least in his general direction.

"Yeah. The Buick." He gestured toward the parking lot from where they'd started. "We should go home. We'll go back to the Buick and go home."

Reg blinked at him, then turned abruptly. Zephyr caught his arm before he managed to move beyond his reach.

"Let's... cross the street first. Okay? We'll cross to the other side of the street and then we'll go back to the Buick."

Reg took his hand again and they hurried across the street. Most of the storefronts there were closed, except for two bars. Zephyr quickened his gait as much as he could bear. Reg matched his pace easily; once they were well past the second bar, Zephyr stopped to catch his breath. When Reg put a hand on his back, he turned and gave Reg an apologetic half-smile.

"I'm sorry, man."

"No," said Reg. He looked directly into Zephyr's eyes. "I see..." he said.

This time Zephyr didn't struggle free.

But he wasn't comfortable lingering for more than a few moments. "Come on, man, let's go home," he told Reg.


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