“Stevens, there’s someone here to see you.” He looked up from the book he was reading. 

“Who is it?” He asked.

“You’ll be quite surprised,” Margie said.

“I was already surprised once today. I woke up again this morning.”

“Yes, dear.” Margie pulled a tissue from her hip pocket and wiped away a few tears. She had been trying to save her tears for when she would really need them.

“Stevens, did you really think you were going to leave without at least one more bull session with me?” It was his friend Stan, neatly dressed as if he was already attending Stevens' funeral.

“I tried, Stan. I suppose I have Margie to thank for your visit?” Margie had gone into her sewing room to give her husband and his best friend some privacy.

Stan shrugged. “Who else?”

He nodded. “I’m glad you’re here Stan.” He reached for his friend’s hand. “It’s twilight time, my friend, and I’m looking forward to it. It’s not so much the pain. The drugs handle that pretty well. Earth’s pleasures have finally lost their hold on me.” He tried to sit up but failed.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?” Stan asked.

“Take the pillow under my head and place it on my face. Press firmly.”

The two men laughed. “You know,” Stan said, “I always thought we’d be around until at least ninety.”

“You still might. You just turned 79 last week. Sorry I didn’t call. But you look like a guy who could still play three sets and win.” The two men had played a lot of tennis until Stan moved to California.   

Stan shifted in his chair. “it’s your birthday next week. I would have waited until then to visit, but Naomi is having gallbladder surgery.”

“You can call me. I’ll take your call one last time.” They had been exchanging birthday phone calls for sixty years. They never missed a call. Both men stared into space. No tears, not now.   

“I wondered why you haven’t been taking my calls lately. You probably thought I wanted to borrow money again.” Stan said. “After a half-dozen tries, Margie ran out of excuses. She finally broke down and told me, said, you’d be so mad at her.”

“She’s been a saint, Stan. She’s put up with more shenanigans from me than any woman should have to deal with.”

“Any regrets?”

“Can you get that water on the table? I need a sip.” Stan held the glass and gently tilted it just enough so Stevens could get a drink without spilling it. “Thanks Stan. Regrets? You know that old saying about how nobody on his death bed wished he’d spent more time in the office?”

“You’re going to tell me it’s a lie?”

“How’d you know?”

“You, more than any other guy I know, loved his work.”

Stevens nodded. “Maybe one of my buildings will last a century or two.” He removed his reading glasses. “You know what I’ve been thinking about this week?”

Stan looked around to make sure Margie hadn’t slipped into the room. “How much money I still owe you?”

“Have you given up betting football games yet? Vegas was never kind to you.”

“I had to. Those bastards were going to take my house. Your loan saved my marriage.”

“You come all the way from California just to thank me for saving your marriage?”

“I came to give you a chance to apologize,” Stan said. He reached into the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a check. His hand was trembling as he extended it his friend. “This should cover what I owe. Sorry, I wasn’t able to include interest.” 

Stevens smiled and reached for Stan’s hand. He put his glasses back on and glanced at the check. The amount was sizable, more than he remembered. “Oh, my.”

Stan squeezed his friend’s hand and took a good look at him. This once robust man was wafer thin now, his hair all but gone. He was barely recognizable. Only his voice and the mustache he had since college made him recognizable now. “So, what have you been thinking about, really?”

“Stan, I spend very little time examining my life. It’s not important now.” He motioned for more water. “Ask Margie to come in for a minute. I need a bit of morphine.”

Margie put some pain medicine under her husband’s tongue. “Relief juice,” Stevens said.

“Can I get you anything, Stan?” Margie asked.

“How about a shot of that relief juice?” She smiled, patted his shoulder and left the men alone again.. 

“What I’ve been thinking about is the next life. And I’m wondering now, whether it’s possible that we humans are nothing more than an unintended consequence of mother nature, God if you like.”

“Meaning we evolved by accident? Stan asked.

“Right. Take our opposable thumbs and the ability to stand upright. What if they were just quirks of nature? And somehow, because of that, our brains developed to allow conscious thought.”

“Does the idea bother you?”

“No. But if it’s true, is it possible there’s nothing after death?”

“Don’t ask me. I was a dentist. I just hope they have Novocain in the next go around.” He stood.

“Let me put that check on your night table for you.”

“Stan, I never told Margie I loaned you money. You can save my marriage if you’ll take that check back to California with you.”

Margie had been walking to the bedroom to see if Stevens needed anything else. “What check?” She asked.

“He owed me twenty bucks for sixty years. Wants to pay me back now after all these years. No interest either. Can you believe that Margie?”

Margie looked at the two men, intuiting the truth immediately. “You’re both still incorrigible, I see,” she said. “You keep that double sawbuck Stan. He doesn’t need it.” Tears ran down her cheeks.