"Later!" the word, the voice, the attitude. 

I'd never heard anybody use the word later to say goodbye before. It was harsh, and dismissive. 

I first see him when he steps out of the cab that's parked in our driveway. His rolled up sleeves, frayed straw hat, sunglasses, sandals, skin everywhere. All screaming, "Which way to the beach?" Suddenly shaking my hand, handing me his backpack, and asking if my father is home. This summer's house guest. Another bore. 

Then, almost without a though, his back is turned to me. With a flick of his wrist, he utters a "Later!" to the other passenger in the cab, who he probably split the fair from the station with. Then, I thought, maybe that would be the way he would say goodbye to us when the time comes. But until then, we have to put up with him for six long weeks. I'm thoroughly imtimidated now, he's the unapproachable sort. Maybe I could grow to like him. From rounded chin, to his eye smile. 

My parents take in summer guests to help young academics revise a manuscript before publication. For six weeks each summer, I'd have to vacate my room, and move to the room a few doors down the hall that had once belonged to my grandfather. It was also a part time toolshed, storage room, and attic. Summer residents didn't have to pay for their stay, had all of the house, and could pretty much do whatever they want, provided they spent an hour or so a day helping my father with assorted paperwork. They became part of the family, and after 15 years of doing this, we had gotten used to the postcards and gift packages, not only Christmas time, but all year round. Sometimes, they would even bring their families around and stop by, get a little nostalgic. 

At every meal, there usually two or three more guests. Sometimes colleagues, doctors, lawyers, and the rich who'd stop by to see my father on the way to their own summer houses. Sometimes we'd even open our dining room to the occasional tourist couple who'd heard of the villa and were enchanted when we asked if they wanted to eat with us. 

When he sat next to me, I could tell that he hadn't been exposed to much sun. His skin was pale on the palms of his hands, his throat, his forearms. Him sitting next to me answered questions about him that I hadn't t