“Andrews, you’re such an ass,” Gail said, seeing that I’d noticed the ring and was shocked.  “A sweet, lovable, stupid ass.  As I told you last night, his name is Howard.  I met him about six months after you and I broke up.  He asked me to marry him two weeks ago today.”  She stepped back and sat in the armchair again.

     “And what the hell are you wearing anyway?”

     I stood up and then looked down at my clothes.  Oh yeah.  I’d completely forgotten about that.  That was certainly one thing that I always appreciated about Gail -- she could take an uncomfortable situation and quickly switch topics to ease me my embarrassment.

     “Let me get changed,” I said.

     The flash of understanding finally rang on her face.  “Oh, you’re just getting back from last night, then, aren’t you?  You haven’t been home since last night’s full moon escapade, have you?”

     I smiled sheepishly at her, then moved into the bedroom calling out:  “Let me get cleaned up, okay?”

     I took off the dress shirt I’d been wearing and let it fall to the carpet.  Then I removed the jeans, seeing evidence that they’d been chaffing me pretty badly, especially given the fact that I hadn’t been wearing any underwear.

     From the other room she raised her voice so I could hear her better.  “You don’t remember seeing me last night, either time, do you?”

     Either time?  I had no idea what she was talking about.  “No,” I opened my dresser and picked out a cotton golf shirt.

     “And you have no memory of the time when you’re a wolf then?”

     I fished a pair of boxer shorts out of my top drawer and selected a pair of khaki shorts.  “Uh, no.”

     “I figured as much.”  She mumbled something else that a normal person wouldn’t be able to hear but which I could pick up quite easily.  I think she was testing me.  “Then let me catch you up on the fact that we already had a brief discussion about this last night.”

     “Okay.  I’ll be right out.  Let me take a quick shower first, okay?”

     She agreed and I could hear her fiddling with the doors of the stereo cabinet.  By the time I’d turned the water on, I could hear the steady beat of John Cougar’s “Hurts So Good” -- Cougar or Mellancamp, or whatever he was calling himself these days, had always been one of her favourites.

     As I showered I must have turned red, and not just from the hot blast of the water hitting my body.  Red from embarrassment.

     I’d just made a fool of myself in front of Gail, but, in that manner that she had, she’d allowed an out and quickly changed the course of the conversation.  She was a very special woman that way.  Oh, who the hell am I kidding -- she’s a pretty special woman in many ways.

     And it was funny that, as soon as we’d taken care of the initial business, and getting across a few details like “I’m a werewolf” and “I’m engaged to another man” we’d easily slid into the comfortable types of conversations we used to have.

     There was another deep and mournful pang in my heart at the thought that she was so close, just in the next room, yet so far away from me at a deeper level.  I turned to let the hot water pound against my face.

     I didn’t realize the depth of how much I missed her until seeing her again.

     But she’d mentioned that we saw each other last night.  And I had no memory of that.  It must have been some time between my walk up Fifth Avenue and when I got to Central Park.

     I rushed through the rest of the shower, eager to find out the details of last night from her.