I was at my mother's house, laying on a bed in my old bedroom. Ed was visiting. I knew it was strange that he was visiting me, but my plan was to flirt with him and get information out of him before he left. I knew my mother would find it strange that this man was in my room, and it was very late. I took my chances.
He lay across the bed with me and I smiled and lowered my eyes at him and coquettishly asked him if he knew whatever happened to G. He kind of chuckled to himself and told me that G. had become a Muslim and started his own mosque. I was astounded by the information but hid it. We laughed together about how gung-ho G. could become over things, how fiery he could be. I pushed for more information and Ed hinted that G. had married someone much younger than him. How young? I asked. Oh, eight to nine years younger, he said. That's not that much younger! I said.
When my mother came into the room I realized that would probably be the end of the conversation. She pulled me aside and asked me who Ed was and what he was doing there. I said he was an old friend. I kept calm and told her he would be leaving soon anyway.
