"Yes," he said. And he put down his drumstick. "Sara, how long we been seeing each other?"
"Don't you remember?"
"Course I do. But go ahead and say. How long?"
I thought it over. He squeezed my shoulder again. I gave him a look so he'd know what I meant. But he didn't let go. His hair was sticking up in one place. He wore it slicked straight back. He had a little too much oil on it and I could see the bald part underneath. I had never liked it, but I knew he was a good man. "Eight months," I said.