“Tom.”
“Tom what? Maybe we know his family.”
“I didn’t get his last name. He’s a college student,” Alan added, anticipating his mother’s next question.
“That’s odd,” she said.
“What, that he’s a college student?” his father asked.
“No, George. That he didn’t give his last name. Usually when you meet someone they tell you their…”
“God, woman!” His father cut in. “Alan met a guy, they had a beer, he goes to college, end of story. You’re not in the CIA you know.”
“It’s all right, Dad,” Alan said.
“Since when is it so wrong for a mother to take an interest in her son’s life?” his mother said. The needles clacked louder.
Alan sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for this. “Mom, he’s just a guy I met at the bar. We had a beer, ate peanuts and talked, strangers that pass in the night. I’ll probably never see him again.” As soon as he said it a wave of sadness came over him.