Miller couldn't remember being in a cleaner lobby. The air smelled better in there than it did outside. 

"Mr. Klein," Tina said, "Ms. Burr's ready for you now." 

"About time," Klein said. 

Miller patted him on the arm and gave Tina an apologetic smile. 

"I'm sorry about the wait. She was on a very important call." 

"I'm sure anything's more important than us," Klein said. 

This time, Miller mouthed the words I'm sorry. Tina didn't move her lips but managed to convey with her eyes that she wasn't upset. She kept showing that as they walked by, looking at Klein the way a parent or older sibling watches you get back up when you've fallen off you bike and skinned your knee. 

"Thank you," Miller said as they passed her desk. He took a handful of candy from her dish before they went into the hallway. 

"Last door on the right," she said as she put on her coat and gathered things into her purse. 

"You mean the only one with lights on," Klein said. 

The poor girl suffered through four of Klein's explanations why taking up so much time on a Wednesday was especially egregious. Miller wanted nothing more than to scold him, but he knew how that would make Klein feel, so he just kept giving poor Tina those 'I'm sorry' looks. Miller took a peek at the other doors as they went down the hallway to the end. it was quite a long stretch, but the doors were spaced so far apart there didn't seem to be that many offices. He said the names in his head; Clancy, Robinson, Alvarez, Kobliska, Ishiguro. Then there was the door that he never saw anyone go in or out of all the time they were waiting. Winfrey. 

More than the coincidence of her being Klein's attorney, Miller was dumbfounded that her name was Mercedes. He decided firmly not to bring it up. For one, he didn't want to creep her out. Also, he was sure she heard enough comments. 

The door was opened a crack, and Miller could see her opening her cell phone and putting it to her ear in something of a huff. 

"I'm not talking about this anymore tonight," she said before closing it again and stuffing it into the bottom of her purse. The way she spoke was frightening. Her voice was very feminine, pretty even, but she used it like a weapon, picking very carefully how she said each word, and when she went in for the kill at the end of her sentence, the drew the work 'night' out like it was a knife. What a woman, Miller thought. 

"I'm so sorry," she stood from her chair, hurried around her big cocobolo desk and crouched down in front of Klein. "Please forgive me for taking so long." 

Miller couldn't believe how big a fight Klein put up to stay grumpy, but he cracked. 

"It's okay," he said. 

"Gentlemen, please," she gestured to her plush leather couch. Miller eased himself down, stifling a grunt when his pantleg chafed along the tender skin of his hurt knee. Long pants hurt, but there was no way he was going to this woman's office in anything but his finest duds. What hurt the most wearing those slacks, however, was the last time he wore that suit was at his last anniversary. As he was putting it on, a thought came to him that one day he would need to buy a new suit that he would wear for himself, and not a woman. 

"But that's one of their best qualities," Klein said when Miller voiced the thought on the drive over. 

"What's that?" Miller asked. 

"They make us want to be better." 

"Or jump off a bus." 

Klein had slowly turned his head. 

"You know what I mean," Miller said. 

"Well, I suppose it's slightly more dangerous than jumping in front of a bridge." 

They laughed for a bit about that one. That was when the afternoon was young and neither of them minded having to grab a quick bite instead of their usual Wednesday ritual. After two hours of waiting, Klein began openly regretting not following the plan. 

"I really appreciate you waiting. I tried to shorten the call I was on but it just wasn't something I could put off. I'm so glad you waited." 

She fetched a folder from her briefcase and came to the couch, sitting closer to Miller than he thought she would. She turned halfway so she faced them both, and, just like when she stepped out of her car to help Klein up onto the sidewalk, she showed with her modest movements that she had real class. A memory came to Miller of when he was explaining to his girls why he didn't want them dressing like a lot of their friends did. 

"I don't want you dressing like a couple of nuns," he'd told them, “But I promise you, you'll feel much better about yourselves if you don't let boys see too much of you." 

One of the most careful conversations he ever had with them is when he explained that as dancers, they were in better shape than most any other girl they'd ever meet, and that they didn't need to flaunt their beauty. 

"The right kind of fellas aren't gonna come after you if you're dressing like you want every one of them to see you." He wished they could have met Mercedes. They might not have put up as much of a fight if they'd known more women like her. 

"Are you okay, Mr. Miller?" 

He looked up, realizing as he did that his eyes were watering. 

"Yeah," Miller said. "Allergies." 

Mercedes nodded, clearly not buying it. "Would you like some Benadryl?" 

Miller smiled and shook his head. 

"Okay. Well, gentleman, uhm, I have news. I'm not sure I'd call it good, because I believe situations like this are tragic, and even if we win the case, you're still suffering from a loss. So, the news is that I am confident I can get you your money. All of it. But it could be a long process, and it will not be pleasant for anyone involved. 

Klein was quiet. 

"Why do you say it won't be pleasant," Miller asked. "Specifically." 

"Miss Klein displayed a very combative attitude. There are things she can do to draw the proceedings out. But, it is Mr. Klein's money, and I have all the evidence I need to establish that it's been illegally withheld from him. I'm going to do this gratis. Don't worry about me, I can afford to do it and you deserve the help. And, I'm going to have plenty of time on my hands soon..." 

She put her hand to her face, and she took it away, her eyes were watering. 

"I'm sorry. I'm... I'm sorry. This is a fairly routine situation, and it's mostly going to be busy work for me. And I will welcome the diversion, so I want you both to feel comfortable accepting my serv..." 

She put both hands to her face. Klein leaned forward and knocked a plant over when he tried to squeeze his chair between other pieces of furniture to get close to her. 

Miller looked at Klein and nodded toward Mercedes while standing up. Klein patted her on the back while Miller slowly crouched down to scoop the dirt back into the pot. 

"Gentleman," Mercedes said when she put her hands back down, "please forgive me. This is so unprofessional." 

"It's okay, Ms. Burr," Klein said, "we're not paying you, remember." 

She laughed.. 

"You're both wonderful men. I hope you realize that. I wish there were more like you." 

They both laughed. 

"Why are you laughing? You two are the kindest people I have ever had in my office. Look at you comforting me, and look at you cleaning up the plant for him so he can. Honestly, it blows my mind you're both single." 

Klein laughed more at that one. 

"Oh," Miller said, "I wasn't always." 

Mercedes gave that statement a slow, quiet nod. "I'm recently divorced myself." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Miller said. 

"Well, that's not why I'm upset. The marriage ended before the divorce happened." She took a deep breath, then let it out slow, and seemed to be deciding whether or not to say any more. 

"Go on," Klein said, "let it out." 

Klein had this way of rolling his head in a slow circle sometimes. Miller knew it was because he had a weak neck, but it was such a Klein thing to do that he'd grown fond of it. He was doing it then, and somehow managed to make it look suave. 

Mercedes smiled. "You're way too kind. I've taken up far more of your time though than I have any right to." 

"Ms. Burr," Miller said, "it's up to you, but this fella got me to open up about some things recently, and it's... well, it's a good thing in the long run. I'm not sayin' you should bear your soul to a couple of strangers. But if you got some friends you can talk to, it would do you good." 

"Well, I feel like I owe you an explanation at least. My ex-husband and I have been in a custody battle over our daughter, and, when he realized he was going to lose, he stopped fighting me legally and started becoming our daughter's best friend. Well, it worked, and now she wants to move in with him." 

What got Miller right in the gut was that when she said the word 'him', she drew out long and slow, like it was a knife. 

"My wife never loved me," Miller said, "not really. I got over the divorce pretty quick. It helped having the girls. A drunk driver took them from me." 

"Oh god," Burr said. 

"It's been years." 

Klein was happy for the next couple of weeks, even though the rash and his breathing were getting worse. Miller was hoping for a good payout, and soon, because he was either going to have to get Klein a better bedding alternative, which might cost some money, or somehow talk him into doing the things he ought to, which would mean buying carpet for the bedroom and hiring someone to lay it. He'd have done it, were his knee and wrist not so bad. Those got worse too, and he was hoping to get them both looked at. But then he thought that he knew what the doctor would say that he needed to eat better quality food and less of it. The last thing he wanted was to strip down to his skivvies so some white-collar yuppie could tell him he was out of shape. 

Still, Miller was in decent spirits for a while. It helped to see Klein more awake and energetic, and they had regular meetings with Burr, which was nice. They learned something about her that they didn't expect. Klein mentioned that her ex was a fool to have tried to win a custody battle with her, her being a lawyer and all. Then she nodded towards the office across the hall. “That’s his.” 

Miller couldn't believe it. "Does he still work here?" 

"He's still my partner. But he doesn't come in unless he absolutely needs to. He rents an office downtown for his day-to-day work." 

The fourth week was when Klein got antsy. They were at the park with Rosa, Santiago and Fowler. Fowler took some vacation time to see his mother, who wasn't doing so well. He spent most of his time with her, but made sure to see Miller and Klein as often as he could. 

"She's wild for you Miller," Fowler said while Rosa was throwing Santiago his frisbee. 

Miller looked at Fowler, grinned in a warning sort of way, then shook his head. 

"You're crazy," Fowler said. "Certifiable. You don't meet too many women like her." 

After Fowler said that Miller remembered when Burr said that there weren't enough men like him and Klein. Miller wondered what had chased all the truly good people away. It was a sad situation, he thought, for a guy like him to stand out. He was thinking those things when Klein pulled out his phone. He cruised his chair a ways off, listened to his phone for a minute, then told Miller her was going to go for a stroll and would be back. He wasn't gone long, but when he got back it was clear he was upset. 

"Hey, Jimmy," Miller said, "we'll have you over for a movie another night." 

"Yeah," he said. "Sure, Joey. You gotta take care of your family." 

One of the things Miller really loved about Fowler was that he cared enough about other people to understand them. You din't have to spell it out with him. He cared enough to work it out. 

"Thanks, Jimmy." 

Rosa was a little slower on the uptake, but it was on account of how much fun they'd all been having. She did a lot of cooking, too, and Miller could tell she was pretty bummed out that the evening was cancelled. 

"We'll do it soon" Miller said, standing outside her door. 

"He okay?" she asked, nodding towards their apartment. 

Santiago pushed his head between her and the doorway and licked Miller's leg. He laughed and pushed him back gently with his foot. 

"No," Miller said. "No. Klein's never been okay. I never caught on til recently, but he couldn't be further from." 

Rosa nodded. "He will be. Because he's got you." 

If that didn't put a lump in Miller's throat, then there was nothing that could. 

"Hey bud," Miller said when he was back in his place. His hot, squalid, cluttered apartment. "What's goin' on? You meet somebody at the park?" 

Klein was sitting in his corner between the couch and the wall. His laptop was playing Led Boots by Jeff Beck, but he wasn't listening to it. 

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said after a good long pause. 

Miller sat down. His knee throbbed, but he didn't rub it. 

"Well, bud, you don't have that option. Not after getting Burr and me to spill our guts out. You go on and tell me what's eatin' at you." 

"I'm calling it off." 

Miller was quiet. He had to get his head behind the words he'd just heard, then he had to think. And he had to stay calm. 

"Who'd you meet at the park, bud? Was it her?" 

"Of course it was her." 

Miller had to think. "Well, what did she say?" 

Klein's hands were on his fanny pack. He kept looking down at it. 

"Well," Miller said. 

"What do you think she said?" 

"Honestly, Klein, I have no idea. The few times I saw her were some of the saddest moments I've ever seen. I don't know how a human being could say the sorts of things she says, without having Mrs. Wilson's condition. 

Klein played with the zipper on his fanny pack. 

Miller was calm and put his hand on Klein's stubby arm. "You can tell me, man. You can tell me." 

Klein opened his fanny pack and took out a wad of cash rolled up in a rubber band. 

Miller sighed. 

"This is all she can afford." 

Miller put out his hand and Klein gave him the wad. He counted out the bills. The biggest ones were twenties, and there were only a few. 

"The kind of work she does, and she expects you to believe she can only afford to give you five hundred dollars? Brother, she owes you thousands." 

Klein was quiet, still playing with the zipper of his fanny pack. 

"Don't you want a newer chair? We could find something better to sleep on than plastic." 

He kept playing with the zipper, and his head was sagging low. A bit of drool pooled on his lip. 

"Hey," Miller said, "I'd be able to spend some of my retirement on a knee brace. Or maybe even surgery." 

Klein looked up. He had tears streaking down his cheeks. 

"I'm sorry Miller." 

"Klein, what's wrong? Why are you doing this? What did she say? You gotta stick up for yourself this time, bud. You can't..." 

"No! No no no no no! Family works it out. Or they don't." 

"Klein..." 

He started shaking his head like he'd lost control of it and began shouting about the plan and yelling the word 'no' at the top of his lungs. There was a knock on the door. It was Mr. Wilson. He said if Klein didn't stop shouting, he was going to call the cops, only he didn't use Klein's name. He used a word Miller didn’t much care for, and he thought back to those punk teens and what he would have done to them if he hadn't had twisted his knee chasing them. His fists were balled up so tight his knuckles hurt. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Wilson," Klein said. He'd made his way through the room to the door. "I'll stop. I promise." 

"You better," the old weasel hissed. 

"I was having one of my spells," Klein said. "You know how that goes." 

Mr. Wilson's head snapped back like he'd been hit the way he deserved to be. He might have said something back, but his lip quivered, and he turned and left. Miller watched the old fella stop outside his own front door like going through it was the last thing he ever wanted to do, and somehow, despite everything, Miller felt a little sorry for him. One of the moths buzzing around the porch light almost flew inside, so he closed the door and turned around. 

"I'm sorry," Klein said. 

"You don't gotta be." 

Miller got himself a beer and made Klein some iced tea with enough sugar to launch a five year old into space. He sat down, rubbed his knee, and they both drank their beverages in silence. In the quiet, they could hear dogs barking, insects buzzing, and Mrs. Wilson howling wild obscenities and the grossest sexual terms one could think of. 

"He has a very hard life," Klein said. 

"Ain't no excuse for what he just called you." 

"I know," Klein said. "It's just one more reason to pity him." 

"You keep your, cool, and I'll give you kudos for that, but I know it gets to you." 

Klein turned. "Not as much as it gets to you. That's why I came to you in Freeman Park that day. I didn't know why you were hurting, but I saw you drive up in a red Corvette, and you wore nice clothes, so I knew that you had to be hurting because someone else got hurt." 

What a sight, Miller thought. Two grown men, one in his fifties and one in his forties, up late with tears streaming down our cheeks. We're like a couple teenage girls watching the end of a chick flick. 

Miller picked up the wad and handed it to Klein, but Klein just looked at it. 

"Miller," he said. 

"What's up, bud?" 

"I'm scared." 

Miller set the money down on the coffee table with all the other clutter, then leaned over the arm of the couch toward Klein. 

"Why you scared, man?" 

Klein clutched at his stomach. "Because... because I've never hurt this much before." 

Miller let him sob a bit, then asked him the real question. 

"What did she say to you?" 

"Nothing." Klein sucked in his breath so hard it shook. "She didn’t say. She just threw the money at me, and it hit me in the face, and she walked away. She didn't say anything. At least when she'd call me a cripple, and... human garbage... or Quasimodo or Professor X, at least... at least she was talking to me..." 

It was the most Miller had ever seen him cry. 

"Hey man," Miller said when Klein had run out of tears, "is there anything I can get you?" 

"A Kleenex," Klein said. Miller felt bad for not noticing the snot dangling from his nose. He found a box of tissues in the clutter and grabbed it, knocking the money onto the floor. 

"My back is itching really bad, too." 

Miller took a deep breath, then braved the pain in his knee to get up and get the cream. Klein was quiet and still while he put it on. While he was still standing, Miller went to the kitchen and got them both another drink. Klein seemed better for having let his feelings loose, but Miller didn't like his breathing. 

"I'm thinking of buying a new humidifier," he said. 

“That won’t make a difference.” 

Miller looked at Klein. He’d never felt more sorry for someone, but at the same time frustrated. “Well, I gotta do somethin’. I don’t like the way you’re breathin’, bud.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Miller handed Klein his sugary iced tea. “You don’t gotta be.”