Marcus Reed had been Dad’s friend since they were teenagers.

He was a broad-shouldered man with graying hair, a booming laugh, and a habit of speaking to everyone as though they had known each other for twenty years.

He and Dad had played music together long before I was born.

Unlike Dad, Marcus didn’t avoid talking about the past.

Sometimes he came over on Sunday afternoons with a bag of groceries or a part Dad needed for one of his repair jobs.

He usually stayed for coffee.