Lacey approaches Lem. He’s just given his famous speech.

Michael is dead. Lacey has never met him.

Spring by Andrea Vanzo plays.

Lem is drunk.

“That’s a fascinating take on life.” she says at 26.

He looks at her and laughs. Smiles. Furrows his brow. Then becomes serious.

“I would think getting married would be the only thing worth doing in life other than having a family. Everything else is meaningless without someone to love profoundly.” says Lacey.

He looks grim but thoughtful.

He looks up and laughs.

“Well, would you have dated me?!” he asks her as if she’d have said no.

“Me?” she asks.

He looks at her with suspicion. Half smiles.

They stand in silence.

“Yes! You!” he says with almost harsh disregard for her feelings.

She looks up into his eyes, squints. She analyzes.

“Yes! Probably.” she says.

“Well, my dear, you weren’t there. Who knows. You’re probably right. But for Jack and I all we had was friendship.” he says. He lights a cigarette.

“But friendship isn’t love.” she says. “Not the sort of deep love I’d want. I want the sort of love the most romantic, heartbroken poets write about.”

His breathing quickens. Then he takes a deep breath.

“Finding that kind of love is dangerous!” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Why?” asks Lacey.

He looks uncomfortable. He reaches out and runs his hand up and down her right arm.

“Why are you asking me?” he leans in and whispers to ask her.

“You’ve never experienced that sort of dangerous love?” she asks sincerely.

He looks off into the distance and thinks. “Have you?” he looks back into her eyes and asks.

“No.” she says.

“Good!” he says.

“Why? Are you advocating for only friendship?” she asks. “Like the Catholic Church?”

He smiles. Tries not to laugh.

“No, I’m just saying it’s good you’ve never had your heart broken.” he says.

“But friendship doesn’t allow for romance.” says Lacey. “And I think I’d rather be hurt-“

“No, no. That’s true.” he interrupts.

“Why were you only allowed friendship?” asks Lacey.

He looks into her eyes. Looks away. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.” he says, then laughs. He lights another cigarette.

“Why?!” asks Lacey.

He looks into her eyes again. Takes a deep breath in and out.

“Well, you might understand.” he decides. He looks into her eyes and smiles. Then he suddenly looks sad. “Why do you want to know so badly?!”

“You’re fascinating! And I can’t figure out what you mean. And it scares me.” she says.

He looks disturbed. Almost ready to cry. “You don’t really want to know.”

“No! I’m entranced.” she says.

He moves one eyebrow up. Thinks. Looks off to the side. Considers. “We should talk sometime alone.” He looks at his watch. “What about right now? I’m free for a few the rest of the day.”

“Yes, let’s!” says Lacey.

In his apartment over hot coffee they sit and talk.

“So, you’re a homosexual?” she asks.

He nods and smiles.

“You’ve never wanted to even kiss a woman?!” she asks.

He sighs. “I mean I’ve thought about it.” he laughs awkwardly.

“And it just repulses you!?” she says.

“Not if it was you.” he says.

“Hmm. But other women?” she asks.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it repulses me.” he thinks. “I’m just not-“ he holds his hand up to explain. “I’m not-“

“You’re attracted to me though?!” she asks, perplexed.

He looks her in the eyes. Thinks. Considers. Smiles.

“Well, I guess.” he says.

“You are or are not?” she asks.

He thinks more. “Are!”

“Do I seem masculine?!?” she asks.

His eyes grow big. He looks worried. “No!! You’re not masculine.”

“Then how are you attracted to me?!” she asks.

He looks slightly disturbed.

“You wanna make-out?” he asks her.

“Why?” she asks.

He laughs. Shrugs. “I’m curious.”

“Well, don’t assume you’ll like it.” she says. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Same to you, I guess.” he says.

And that’s when Lem realized he wasn’t gay. He had had inklings before. But never had it been that certain.

“That’s so difficult to believe!” says Lacey.

“It was the 1950’s. We really were different.” he says.