Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 84 Page 85 Page 86 Page 87 Page 88 Page 89 Page 90 Page 91 Page 92 Page 93 Page 94 Page 95 Page 96 Page 97 Page 98 Page 99 Page 100F e b r u a r y / M a r c h 2 0 1 7 9 3 Fiction staFF illustration By John Manderino a re you going to wear that?” Jill asked, brushing her hair, look- ing at Bob in her dressing ta- ble mirror. “I thought I might,” he said by the closet, buttoning. “Why? You don’t like it?” “Didn’t say that.” “I can wear something else.” “That’s entirely up to you.” “Would you prefer I wore something else?” “Do you like that shirt, Bob?” “Yes, I do. I like it very much.” “Then you should wear it.” “But do you like it.” “Doesn’t matter.” “Tell me anyway, just for fun.” “All right. Just for fun? I don’t like it. I think it’s utterly dreadful.” “You’re kidding.” “Why would I kid?” He began unbuttoning it. “Then I’ll wear something else.” “Please don’t.” “You said it was dreadful.” “Utterly.” “All right, then.” He continued unbut- toning it. “Please don’t change your shirt for me, Bob.” “Who should I change it for?” “For yourself.” “But I like this shirt.” “Then there’s nothing more to be said.” Bob hesitated, holding a button. “You’re right.” He began buttoning it up again. Jill watched him in the mirror. “So you’re going to wear it?” “Yes, Jill, I am. I think it’s a terrific-look- ing shirt.” “Then you should definitely wear it.” “I definitely intend to.” “I can see that.” “I’m sorry you don’t like it.” “That doesn’t matter, apparently.” Bob dropped his hands, one button to go. “Jill, that’s not fair. Of course it matters. You know that.” “And yet…” She gestured in the mirror to- wards the shirt he was nevertheless wearing. Bob stood there a moment. Then he be- gan quickly unbuttoning. “This is ridicu- lous. I’ll wear another shirt, for God sakes. I hate this shirt. It’s a horrible, bitchy, im- possible shirt and I want nothing more to do with it.” He pulled it off and flung it to the carpet, then stood there in his T-shirt with his hands at his hips, breathing hard. “All right? Happy?” She looked at him in the mirror, sadly. “See how you get?” She put an earring on. He continued standing there, watch- ing her put the other one on. Then he said quietly, “Jill, will you tell me something, please?” “If I can.” “What…exactly…do you want from me?” “You really want to know?” “I really do.” “You’re not going to like it,” she warned, opening a tube of lipstick. “Tell me anyway.” “I want you to be a man, Bob.” She be- gan coloring her lips. He stood there nodding, hands at his