Chris had a friend for a few months when he was 10 named Paulie, and Paulie went to his grandparents' house on the weekends and after school while his mother worked. Twice, Paulie invited Chris to come along with him.  Paulie's mom drove them to her parents' house, the car thumping over the cobblestone street that wound through the neighborhood. Paulie's grandparents' brick house was big, big enough for a large Catholic family with eight or nine kids, three floors and a finished basement. Paulie's grandmother asked Chris and Paulie if they were hungry and Paulie said, "nah," but Chris said yes and followed her into the kitchen. She threw open cupboard doors and asked him if he wanted cereal or cookies and she listed off the different brands she bought for Paulie and his cousins and aunts and uncles.

The house was always loud, Paulie's aunts and uncles coming over to watch the game or just have dinner. Paulie's youngest uncle was eighteen, with a curly Afro of mousy brown hair, slim and well muscled. The second time Chris came to visit, Paulie's cousin was there, and his young uncle took all three of them to the pool.  Paulie's cousin was a very serious nine-year-old girl. At the pool, Chris watched Paulie's young uncle in his blue swimsuit, rubbing his lean stomach and flirting with the busty lifeguard.

Paulie's cousin said they should go and they walked home, barefoot and shivering over the cobblestones. Paulie's cousin was just visiting, she just came twice a year and she knew the layout of the house cold, but she didn't know the name of the street where the house was. She said with a bright laugh, "I know there's cobblestones and it's near the Pittsburgh Zoo!" Chris felt a stab of envy as sharp as a sliver in his foot. The brick house had a permanency about it, a place that would always be there, like a sanctuary and it was hers, not his.  Paulie's grandmother would always be making people pick up their messes and then giving them cookies. Paulie's uncles would always be watching games, sneaking beers to the older kids, cheering for the Steelers and his aunts would always be in the kitchen and anytime Paulie or his cousin wanted to or needed to they could go to that house and be safe and sound and fed.

Paulie's young uncle drove the two of them home the second time Chris visited. Chris said to just drop him off at Paulie's place and he'd walk home. It was only ten blocks or so, he thought, and Paulie just shrugged. Paulie's uncle grabbed Chris's wrist when they got there and said, "Don't walk, kid, tell me where you live. It's dark." Earlier that afternoon, Paulie's uncle had taught the two of them to play pool on the pool table in the basement of the house, lifting Chris by the waist so he could make the harder shots he was too short to handle. In the car, Chris nodded and gave directions. As Chris was getting out, Paulie's uncle said, "You're funny, Chris, next time you come by, I'll show you some pool shark tricks. You can hustle the whole school." But Chris moved again or left that school and he didn't see Paulie or the house again.

Sometimes when Justin turns around with that blinding smile, Chris thinks he can almost see cobblestones under Justin's feet, but he knows it's just a trick of the stage lights.