Transcription by Ike Hamill Page B

may not decide to have kids, and when I get to that point, I may decide to revise my policy on monogamy. I don’t think the concepts of parenting and monogamy necessarily go together though.”
    “Huh,” James said. “Don’t you think a kid deserves a stable family with consistency?”
    “I suppose. I’m not sure I understand why that’s hand in hand with monogamy. Can’t two or more people bond together with the common cause of raising children without being sexually exclusive?”
    “I think sex is supposed to reinforce the bond between people, so they have a way to resolve conflict. If you can get gratification elsewhere, then maybe there’s less reason to settle your differences with your partner.”
    “That’s interesting,” Bo said. “I’ll have to think about that. There have definitely been times in the past when I’ve held back on saying something mean because I wanted to get laid. Maybe you have a point. Doesn’t a healthy relationship involve airing grievances to resolve them? If you just pave over your conflict in hopes of getting some, then aren’t you doing the relationship a disservice?”
    “I think we’re out of my depth,” James said. “Were you on the debate team in high school?”
    “I was,” Bo said. “How did you guess?”
    James laughed. “It’s just how efficiently you changed your tone there. You sounded like a politician there for a second.”
    “I’ll take that as an insult,” Bo said, smiling. “So how about you? Where’s Mrs. James Cheap-Gin, and your two-and-a-half kids?”
    James shook his head. “I’m not a relationship guy, unfortunately.”
    “What does that mean?” Bo asked.
    James took a second before he answered. He looked up towards the underside of the tree branches overhead. “I guess I just don’t have the time. Work takes up everything.”
    Bo shook his head. “What’s the point of that? You really get that much satisfaction out of your work?”
    “It’s important,” James said.
    “Important? Or important to you?”
    “What’s the difference?” James asked.
    “Before I answer that—are you going to break out that gin, or what?”
    “Oh, sorry,” James said. He took the bottle from the brown bag and twisted the cap. “Let me go get you a glass.”
    “No need,” Bo said. He straightened his legs and reached into the front pocket of his baggy jeans. James was amazed to see him pull a can of beer from the pocket and then slump back in his chair.
    James laughed. “How long have you been carrying that around?”
    “I picked it up at lunch,” Bo said. He cracked it open and tipped it up for a giant gulp. “It’s unwieldy to walk around with a can in your pocket, but it’s comforting. It reminds me that I get to go home soon. I don’t work tomorrow, so Thursday is my Friday. Besides, I like it warm.”
    James took a pull from his bottle of gin. He knew that he was hardly going to make a dent in it before he dumped the rest down the drain. It would be a lot cheaper and less wasteful to ask Bo to pick up one or two of those little airplane bottles. But that would feel too limiting. He didn’t mind restricting himself, but he didn’t want to have an artificial limit on how much he could imbibe.
    Bo was tilting his can again. He looked to be three-quarters done with his beer already.
    “You like to take your time and really enjoy it, I see.”
    “I don’t drink for pleasure, just for the effect,” Bo said with a smile.
    “You were going to tell me—what’s the difference between a job that’s important and one that’s important to me?”
    “Oh, right,” Bo said. “I guess I’m asking—are you doing your job for a higher purpose, like the good of humanity, or just because you get something deeply satisfying out of it?”
    “Oh,” James said. He took another swig of gin and let it slip down his throat, burning the whole way. “It’s a job that has to be done. Not just for me. Why do you ask?”
    “If you don’t mind