Max was a great guy and an Episcopalian Minister. He let me bring my son to the pre-school at his church for free. That was very kind, to my way of thinking.
Max knew I was a "lapsed" Catholic, never went to church, and not really even much of a Christian; but he didn't care. We became pretty good friends when I was in my late twenties, divorced with 2 kids, and living in the City. I guess Max was in his mid-40's at the time.
Max would drop by my apartment a couple of evenings a week, to bring me books, and stayed for a glass of wine, and conversation. He had black hair and the bluest eyes.
We talked about faith and sin and redemption. We compared Eastern religions to Western religions. We talked about books and music. He laughed at my jokes and I laughed at his.
Our hands never once as much as touched in two years. I pretended I didn't see what was in his eyes, and he pretended he didn't see what was in mine.
It was better that way.