This isn’t much of a story and people can draw their own conclusions. It all happened many years ago when my first son was still in elementary school. My wife and I met this new couple at the open house before classes got underway. They had this boy, let’s just say his name was Finn. He was a blonde-headed, angelic boy with scabby knees, an outdoorsy sort like our own son. They shared many interests. It seemed promising that the two boys would become fast friends, perhaps best friends.

The boy’s father was physically impressive. Still in his thirties, he claimed to be a mountain climber and a biologist. He was powerfully muscled and sported a neatly trimmed beard. His wife, a pediatric nurse, smiled a few feet behind and to the left of him. They had been living in Cambodia, he said, and were looking to settle down. All the traveling was bad for the boy. They had to give it up. His wife had landed a job at a local hospital. They were renting a house but looking to buy one soon. The man did most of the talking. He said they loved the neighborhood, the city. All the people were so nice. I had the distinct impression that the man had a military background and that he was lying to me. He had a body like a Navy Seal and there aren’t any mountains to speak of in Minnesota. I don’t recall exactly what he had been researching in Cambodia, some bacterium in the water perhaps. Everything he rattled off seemed boring and rather rehearsed. I could believe his wife was a nurse. She was several inches taller than him with an incredible physique from running. I made a conscious effort not to stare. One glance was enough. She had large breasts, an impeccably toned torso, and amazing legs. I suppose I was jealous of the couple–their youth, athletic prowess, and globe-trotting adventures. Without a doubt, they were madly in love with one another. The wife’s face, however, was like a Picasso—asymmetrical eyes, bad skin and a crooked nose–altogether incongruous with her perfection from the neck down. Perhaps that’s a harsh and inappropriate assessment, but it’s how men think, you know. Usually it’s the other way around–pretty face on a fat, dumpy body. That’s common enough, but you rarely see it the other way. Perhaps, I’m an asshole. I’m divorced now and that’s certainly possible. I never cheated on my wife though. But any guy who says he never thought about it is one hundred percent a liar.

Both my wife and I were excited about meeting the romantic couple. I imagined us all backpacking together. We needed to find friends as much as our son.

“I think the guy is CIA or something,” I said to my wife when we got home. I just blurted it out in the kitchen. “Nothing against him. It all sounds just a little fishy.”

“I kind of thought the same thing.”

“Yeah, I think he’s definitely a spook.” I was getting myself worked up. “You can just tell when someone is government.”

“You’re government.” She smiled and laughed at me. It was a mocking reference to my postal employment. She was so much prettier than the other man’s wife. He could have snapped my neck as easily as a pencil, but I had that much on him.

“Well, at least Miles will have a friend,” I said.

“I don’t think they’re going to stick around,” my wife said. She was always wise about such things.

I didn’t give the new couple much thought in the weeks that followed. Occasionally, I would see the man’s wife jogging across the way as I biked to work. I’d just mouth the word, Jesus, and shake my head. I was busy with the kids and my job. The boys did indeed become friends. Sometimes they would play in the forest along the river together. The thought of it made me happy.

Then one day, my wife received an unexpected call from the teacher. The Finn boy had been harassing my son in class. It sounded like Finn was jealous of Miles, but for what reason I couldn’t imagine.

I plied my wife for more details. At this point, I wasn’t taking the matter too seriously. The schools tended to overreact.

“He threatened to tie Miles to a tree and torture him with a knife.”

“My God,” I exclaimed. “He must have something wrong with him.”

“I told Miles to keep his distance.”

“Good,” I said, visualizing my innocent son bound with a jump rope to an oak in the schoolyard. The strange boy probably did own a knife.

“He draws sadistic pictures in his notebook and shows them to Miles when he ignores him. The teacher separated them. They don’t sit at the same table anymore.”

I was in disbelief. “I really thought that would work out,” I said. “They seemed perfect for each other.”

“I know,” my wife said. We tried to make a joke out of it, but it was undeniably disturbing.

“Did the teacher talk to the other boy’s parents?”

“She called them. They say he’s had problems at other places and that they have him seeing a counselor.”

“Maybe I should have a talk with the boy’s father,” I said.

“I have their number if you want to do that, but I think it’s been handled sufficiently for now.”

“Well, they seem like good people. I don’t want to embarrass them.”

I did have a talk with my son about how to handle bullying. This Finn kid sounded like one sick puppy. I was even more leery of the boy’s father now. Maybe he really was CIA and had assassinated people like in the movies. Could this child somehow suspect his father’s dark secrets and be acting them out in fantasy? I imagined him at night surreptitiously listening to his father’s hushed telephone conversations about murder and intrigue.

I checked in with my wife about the matter a month later.

“Oh, they moved away. Finn’s not in his class anymore.”

“Problem solved,” I declared.

“Yup,” she said with a smile as she prepared dinner.

I stepped out onto the deck and surveyed the yard, the garage, the garden, the birds flitting in the bushes. The green, dandelion-spotted grass was due to be mowed but it could wait until my day off. We were blissful in the dullness of our white-picketed lives. I wish it could have stayed that way forever, but the fucking government. They ruin everything.