“Do you have to go to the inauguration?” Frade asked as he peeled the apple. “The doctor told me your due date is coming up.”

The skin he cut off with a knife was attached to the flesh of the apple, and less than two-thirds of the whole apple was left in his hand. I stared at the silver knife in his hand and asked, “Do you have a problem with apples?”

“I hope this knife didn't cut apples, but...”

“Stop,” I reminded him. “Watch your mouth.”

“I don't want you to go to a crowded place,” Frade said, handing me a peeled apple. “In that case, all eyes are...