“You’ve got big arms,” he said. “I noticed when you arrived, you were wearing that t-shirt.”

“I’ve been working out.”

Moved by the draft from the airconditioner, the blinds clicked against the sliding glass door.

“When I was little, you were the guy with the arms. Someday, I thought, I’ll have arms like him.”

“And just look at me now,” he said. “Feel this. The vein where they’ll put in the catheter for the dialysis when I finally go on.”

It buzzed.

I totally forgot Father’s Day, because it’s “celebrated” a week earlier here in Austria. I called early Monday morning. It was still Sunday there, but he did the math.

“Up early today,” he said.