Terry and Gene 25

Three months had passed since Jason's death. Terry still had no furniture. She had decided to build up her savings and move away. No sense in buying furniture that she'd just have to move. She thought she'd go to Santa Fe and open a gallery there.

It was almost closing time. Terry was dusting the sculptures with her feather duster when the door opened. She turned to greet the customer, but instead her heart bottomed out of her chest and she dropped the duster.

Gene stood just inside the doorway. For a moment he just stared at her as if he couldn't believe she was standing there.

Terry walked toward him. "I'm getting ready to close. Do you want to come upstairs?" She asked quietly. He barely nodded.

Terry put the money in the safe, locked the back door, turned off the lights and went to the front door. Gene held it open for her. She locked it and led him up to her apartment.

"Still no furniture?" he asked.

"I'm thinking of moving. Maybe New Mexico," she said.

"New Mexico?" he asked. Had his voice cracked?

"Let's go up to the garden. My swing is still there." she said.

She held the door open for him as he climbed up. It was just light enough for them to see the glider.

They sat on the same side, not touching. They watched the stars come out in silence. Gene sighed a couple times, but she didn't dare look at him.

She felt his hand on her leg. Taking a deep breath, she wove her fingers in between his. She squeezed his hand and started to cry.

"Terry, I don't want to live without you. I can't. I tried and I can't." His voice trembled. "I didn't mean for him to use that money to kill himself. I just wanted him to go away so I could have you to myself; so he couldn't make you cry anymore. God, Terry, you have to forgive me. Please."

Terry looked at him in the darkness. "Forgive you? You don't need forgiving. I do. I said all those horrible things to you. And I lied to you." She was sobbing now.

He took his hand from her and put his arm around her, burying his face in her hair. He held her until she got control of herself.

"Please come home with me," he said.

All Terry could do was nod. He must have felt her response because he stood up and helped her out of the swing.

***

She woke in the morning to find Gene watching her sleep. He smiled when he saw she was awake and gave her one of his cherishing kisses. When he pulled away, Terry's stomach growled. They both laughed so hard tears ran down their faces.

"I'd better take you to breakfast." They got up and dressed and Gene said he was taking her to Franco's.

"You don't have to take me there. Any place is fine."

"I want to celebrate you coming back to me," he said.

She smiled at him.

When they got to Franco's, Gene held her hand as they walked in. Several heads turned as they were escorted to Gene's favorite table.

Breakfast was wonderful. Everything had been perfect from the moment she stepped into Gene's house. She pondered this as she sipped her coffee while Gene was off taking a phone call.
When he came back, instead of returning to his seat, he knelt beside her.

"Terry," his voice was husky. "I love you. I love you more than life itself. Will you marry me?" He held out a red box to her.

She took it with a shaking hand. Without opening it, she wrapped her arms around him and cried into his shoulder.

"Yes."

When she released him, there were tears in his eyes as well.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he asked.

"Oh!," she laughed. She opened the box to find the most beautiful heart-shaped diamond she had ever seen. She removed it from the box and slipped on her finger. It fit perfectly.

"You are amazing." she said with a smile.

"Not as amazing as you," and he pulled her down to kiss him.

Terry and Gene 24

Terry didn't sleep. She sat in the corner of her bedroom, propped up on pillows, waiting for daylight so she could start preparing.

In the morning, she went down to the store and got some wrapping paper for the paintings. She wrapped each one and brought it down to the van. Then she carried the urn down. Finally, she showered and got dressed. She wore a black, floor length sundress with a matching scarf and her work shoes.

Ann drove her to the funeral home and helped her set up. They placed the urn on a pedestal and they put the photographs of Jason on easels on either side of it. Then they arranged his paintings in a semi-circle around it. There were refreshments on a table in the back of the room. They had Jason's favorite songs playing in the background. It wasn't a conventional set up by any stretch.
As the people filtered in, she was amazed at how many of them there were. It was only about a half hour before the place had become a party rather than a memorial. There were people talking and laughing and admiring his paintings. They had the home to themselves, so someone turned up the music and a few people started passing flasks around. Terry only knew about a third of the people there, although everyone seemed to have a story to tell her after they introduced themselves.

When the man of the cloth arrived, there was such chaos that she paid him his stipend and invited him to join the party. No point in trying to make a solemn occasion out of this. He joined the fray gladly.

Four hours later, there was only she and Ann left. Terry sighed and looked around. For all those people, there was almost no mess. Terry went to get the wrappings for the paintings and found Gene standing in the lobby, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

Terry, who had managed to stay dry eyed all morning, felt the tears running down her cheeks. She walked up to him slowly, knowing she should say something, but not sure what. He watched her with those eyes that she had fallen into so many times. Now they were closed to her, cold and hard.

"That was quite a party."

Terry nodded with a little laugh. "It was very like Jason. I planned one thing and it turned into something else completely." She cleared her throat. She took a deep breath. Then, she bowed her head and stilled her thoughts for a moment. She took another deep breath and looked up at him.

Gene looked into her eyes. Terry could see them melting, but he didn't move. It was then that she realized that it was over between them. She swallowed hard.

"I still loved him. I lied to you and I'm sorry. I'm asking for your forgiveness, but I understand if you can't give it to me." She took a deep breath. "If you're ever lonely, call me." She bowed her head and walked away.

She found the wrapping papers in the funeral director's office. She picked them up and carried them back to the room.

With Ann's help, she wrapped the paintings and took them out to the van. Then, she returned to the room and took the pictures of Jason down and put them in the van, too. Finally, she returned to the room one last time. She stood before the urn and put both her hands on it, trying to feel him one more time. For a moment he was there, but then he was gone and only the cold urn was beneath her palms.

"Goodbye, Jason," she whispered and left him behind.

When they got home, she unwrapped the paintings and hung them up again. Then she laid down in the middle of the living room and stared up at the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" Ann asked.

"I don't know. I just felt like it." Terry said.

"Are you OK?"

"I will be," Terry said. "I will be."

Terry and Gene 23

Terry saw the light filtering through her eyelids and smelled the antiseptic in her nose.

"Gene. Oh my god, Gene," she heard her voice in her ears and started crying.

"Terry?" Ann's voice and a cool hand holding hers.

"Gene's gone, too," Terry cried.

"Oh honey. Don't cry anymore."

Terry gasped. "Oh my god. What day is it?"

"Saturday."

"The service is tomorrow at ten."

"Yes. Once they get you hydrated, if you're OK, they'll let you go home. But you have to get control of yourself. OK?"

Terry breathed deeply and nodded. She tried to keep her mind blank so she wouldn't cry again.

The doctor came in to see her. "Well, Terry, it's good to see you awake. Do you know what day it is?"

"Saturday."

He asked to a few more questions. Then he nodded as if satisfied.

"Well, once this is all in, you can go home. I'm going to have them give you a sleeping pill to take home. A couple days of rest and good meals and you'll be back to normal."

"Thanks," Terry said.

***

An hour later, she was discharged and Ann drove her home.

When they got inside, Ann asked her if she wanted the sleeping pill. "No. Tomorrow after I get back from the service. Then I can rest." Terry said quietly. "You might want to get a hotel room. I don't have a bed."

Ann shook her head. "I've slept on the floor before."

Terry sighed. "I'm going to shower."

"OK. Want something to eat?"

"No. Tomorrow. I can't do anything until tomorrow."

Ann nodded and said nothing.

Terry and Gene 22

Three days later, Terry had sold most of her furniture and all of her jewelry. For the most part, only Jason's paintings remained. She had arranged to have him cremated along with the nude painting of her. She had dropped that off at the crematory that morning. The obituary was paid for and she had a picture of him printed along with it. The memorial service was going to be Saturday morning. Only two days away. Tomorrow she would pick up his ashes. For the service, she planned to have the paintings she owned on display alongside the pictures of him she had taken while they were together.

Her phone had rung frequently over the past three days, but she hadn't answered it unless it was someone calling her back about Jason. She didn't want to talk to Gene, Ann, or Jeannetta. She erased all of their voice mail messages without listening to them. She just wanted to get through this alone.

Saturday afternoon, she was sitting on her living room floor with Jason's ashes, crying, when someone pounded on her door.

"Terry? Terry! Are you in there?" Gene's voice was frantic.

"Go away," she whispered and continued to cry.

"Hey!" She heard Gene yell.

Moment's later, the knocking came again.

"Terry! It's Tony! Please open the door!"

"If I'm quiet, maybe they'll leave," she murmured to the urn.

Pounding again.

"Terry, please answer the door. In sixty seconds, I'll break it down."

"Ugh." She struggled to her feet. She staggered a little as she walked to the door. Her head felt disconnected from her body.

She unlocked the door, turned the handle and let them push the it open the rest of the way. She leaned against the wall behind it.

Tony walked in and stood in front of her, Gene on his heels.

Gene stepped around him and grabbed her shoulders. "Jesus Christ, Terry! Where have you been?"

"Here," Terry looked a him, feeling dead herself.

Gene looked at her dumbly. "What? Why haven't you answered your phone? What's wrong with you?" He shook her.

"Hey! Take it easy!" Tony said and grabbed Gene's shoulder.

He released her and clenched his fists. "Talk to me!" he yelled.

Terry felt the floodgates open and there was no stopping the torrent of words that came screeching out.

"He's dead! Jason is dead! Remember he said it would only take fifty dollars to get him where he wanted to go? Remember? He was wrong. It took a hundred. He loaded up on alcohol and killed himself. He was so swollen up, I couldn't even have a regular service for him because no one would have recognized him. Jason wanted to die and it only took a hundred dollar bill to get him there." Terry was screaming and waving her arms around. "All that time I spent loving him and taking care of him and you gave him exactly what he wanted in less than six hours. And while he was dying alone, I was sleeping with you!"

As she screamed the last sentence, Ann came rushing in.

"My god. Terry, what's going on?"

"She's blaming me," Gene said without emotion.

"You." Terry pointed at Ann. "You always said no good could come of it! Now he's dead and taking me to hell with him."

:"Jason's dead?"

"Yes!" She pushed herself away from the wall. Then she blinked. "It's getting dark in here," she said, but her voice sounded far away. Then the lights went out.

Terry and Gene 21

Gene drove Terry to the shop and dropped her off on the curb. He had an appointment to keep, so it was just kiss and fly.

Terry opened the shop and counted out her money from the previous day, prepared a bank deposit, and began dusting. She moved around the shop, carefully wiping off each picture frame and using a feather duster on the sculptures.

The door opened and she turned to smile at the customer. It was the beat cop.

"Oh, hi Tony. How are you?" Terry asked, turning back to her cleaning.

Tony walked over to her. "Terry," he said.quietly. Terry felt her heart start pounding. She turned to face him.

"What's wrong, Tony?"

Tony put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "I think we have Jason. But we need someone to make a positive ID."

"Have him where?" Terry frowned.

Tony continued to look at her and folded his lips.

Terry gasped and started shaking all over.

"Dead?" she cried. "Oh, god, Tony! Not dead!" Her knees went out from under her and she hit the floor.

Tony knelt beside her, holding her as she cried through the initial shock.

"You gotta be wrong Tony!" She struggled to her feet. Sobbing, she went and got her wallet and keys. "Come on. Maybe I can tell you who it is."

She locked up and followed Tony to the squad car. By the time they arrived at the morgue, she was reasonably under control.

Tony walked with her and stood by her as the coroner came in.

"He's pretty swollen," he said as he stood at the head of the gurney.

Terry took a deep breath.

"Are you ready?" Terry looked up at him and nodded.

The coroner slowly pulled the sheet down. His face was so bloated, she barely recognized him. But there was his beautiful, long hair and the self-inflicted cuts on his arms.

"Oh, my god," she said and covered her face with her hand. "That's him" she sobbed. Tony put his arm around her and led her out of the room.

"What happens now?" she asked, still crying.

"We try to contact relatives."

Terry shook her head. "If there are any, they're distant at best. His folks are dead and he was an only child. He never talked about any other family."

"If no one comes forward, the state will take care of the interment," Tony said gently.

"Like in a pauper's grave?" Terry cried out. "Forget it. I'll take care of him."

"Are you sure?" Tony said. "It's pretty expensive."

"I'll find a way. I've got some savings." Terry stood up. "Can you take me home or do I need to get a cab?"

"I'll take you."

Tony drove her back to the shop. She entered and made a sign that said "Closed due to Bereavement" and hung it over her normal sign on the door. She locked up the shop and went up to her rooms to make phone calls.

Terry and Gene 20

Light filtered in through her eyelids and she could feel the warm blankets wrapped around her. She stretched her right hand out, searching for Gene, but she discovered that she was alone in bed. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked myopically around the room. She was running her hands through her hair when he walked, naked, into the room.

Embarrassed, she looked down and pulled the blankets around her. Gene laughed a little and crawled into bed with her. He pulled her down next to him and laid on his side, facing her.

"Can we talk about last night?" he asked.

Terry turned her head away. "OK."

Gene sighed. "You can't look at me?"

"No."

Silence.

"You do still love him." Gene stated.

"No. But I did once. And when he comes around, it opens up all the old scars. I just need time to sew them up again. It's not a process I really want you watching, you know?"

"So why were you crying all the way here?"

"Seeing him torture himself hurts me. Seeing you angry hurts me. Having him make rude comments because he drank his filter away hurts me."

"Not because you still love him."

"No." Terry finally turned to look at him. "You don't believe me."

"I want to. I'm thinking I suffer by comparison."

Terry sighed. "There's no comparing you. You're almost total opposites."

"Almost?"

"Well, like Jason, you've been around."

"What?"

Terry rolled her eyes. "I might not be all that experienced, but I know when I'm being handled by an expert."

Gene smiled sheepishly, but only briefly.

"Anyway, Jason's like fire. Moving fast and consuming everything in its path. I was in his bed within two weeks of meeting him. If it had been all up to him, it would have been two days.

"You're like water. Surrounding me, supporting me. If Jason hadn't shown up last night, we wouldn't be here right now. I think you just wanted to mark me for your own." she teased.

Gene looked away from her. "Maybe you just wanted to get him out of your system by sleeping with me."

"We're gonna fight about this, aren't we?"

"I want you. Body, mind, heart and soul. Long term. I want you to want to get rid of that painting. Without me asking."

Terry's eyes teared up. "I'd do anything you asked me to do. If you want that painting gone so badly, I'll get rid of it today."

"No. You're missing the point. I want you to want it gone. I don't want you to do it for me."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is how you feel about me and how committed you are to our relationship."

Terry stared at him, open-mouthed. He smiled a little at her and kissed her bottom lip. "Sorry. I'm getting serious on you. C'mon. Let's grab a bite and I'll drop you off at the gallery."

Terry and Gene 19

She walked past him and headed for the stairs. He took her arm and turned her to face him.

"You still love him, don't you?" he asked.

Terry shook her head, tears spilling down her face.

"Look at me." he ordered.

Terry raised her eyes to him. His were like beer bottle glass, cold and hard. "Don't lie to me." he warned.

"I'm not," she said.

"So, why did he come here? He must think you still care for him."

"He knows I won't turn him away if he needs help. I'm 'old reliable'." she said bitterly.

He pressed his lips together and stared hard into her eyes. She felt like he was boring into her soul.

"Come on," he said and pulled her toward his car.

"Where are we going?"

"My place."

"I..."

He stopped and turned her around to face him again. He didn't tell her to shut up, but the look he gave her was plenty clear. Terry closed her mouth and he walked her to his car.

During the ride to Gene's house, Terry occasionally wiped tears from her cheeks. He was silent, offering neither reproof nor comfort. Terry wasn't sure if it was the pain of old wounds opened by seeing Jason again or the anger on Gene's face that hurt the most.

When they arrived at his house, Gene came around and helped her out of the car. She had stopped crying, but in her heart of hearts, she was afraid to look him in the eye again.

Still holding her hand, he pulled her through the house and into the bathroom where he started to undress.

Terry looked at him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Taking a bath. And so are you. Blow your nose and take your clothes off."

Terry stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Get a move on or you can forget blowing your nose and I'll take your clothes off," he threatened, standing before her with just his jeans on.

Terry's knees nearly buckled, but she managed to find some tissue and blow her nose. For a moment, she stood with her back to him, feeling like she was made of jelly. She raised her shaking hands and tried to unbutton her blouse. She heard Gene turn on the water and the next thing she knew, he was behind her, arms around her, unbuttoning her shirt. He kissed her shoulder as he bared it and Terry let her mind go blank.

Terry and Gene 18

Terry looked up to see Gene standing there. His eyes softened a little when he saw her tears, but not much.

Terry released Jason's hands and wiped the tears off her face. "Gene, this is Jason Pierce. Jason, this is Gene Grey."

Jason nodded and smiled. "Like I wouldn't know him. Terry has played all your CD's to death. Some she had to buy three copies of. Sometimes when we were in bed, I'd wonder if she was thinking of you or me."

"Jason!" Terry cried. Gene's face reddened angrily.

"Well, it's true." Jason laughed.

"Gene bought one of your paintings. The urban landscape."

Jason nodded, smiling, not seeming to notice the rage boiling up in Gene. "A painting only a fellow alcoholic could love."

Terry could sense that Gene was barely breathing.

"I saw the painting you did of Terry." Gene growled.

Jason's blue eyes widened and he smiled at Gene again. "It's a good likeness, don't you think? Her skin is like porcelain. Sometimes I wonder why I let her slip away..." Jason drifted off and turned his blue eyes on Terry. "Actually, I came to say goodbye. I'm leaving town."

"Do you need money?" Terry asked, squatting down to get her wallet from under the desk.

"Fifty dollars should get me where I want to go," he said.

Before Terry could locate her wallet, she heard Gene say, "Here's a hundred. Go as far as you can. One way." She gasped and stood up.

Jason took the money with his left had and nodded. "Understood, my man." He turned to smile at Terry. "She's a good woman. I hope you treat her better than I did." Jason walked to the door and opened it. "Glad you liked the picture of Terry. I enjoyed painting it." he said as he let the door close.

Gene spun on his heel and walked out after Jason. Terry was too shocked to even cry out to him to stop. Numbly, she looked at the clock. It was five after eight, actually past closing time. She locked the money in the safe, resolving to count it in the morning. She locked the back door, turned off all the lights and walked to the front door. Gene was just opening it as she got there. He backed up and let her out. She couldn't even look at him.

Terry and Gene 17

Terry looked up to smile at the customer who entered the gallery, but when she recognized him, her smile faded and a familiar ache gripped her chest.

"Hi Jason," she said quietly.

Jason smiled at her. "Terry," he nodded. "You look beautiful, as always."

Despite herself, Terry felt her cheeks glowing as Jason leaned on the counter, resting his elbows on it and folding his hands.

He looked freshly showered and shaven. His long, black hair was pulled into a ponytail. He wore a white oxford shirt and jeans.

"How are you?" Terry asked.

"Oh, you know, getting along. You are absolutely glowing. Life treating you well?"

"Seems to be."

"As you deserve it to." Jason smiled at her.

Terry looked down at his hands. There appeared to be something wrapped around his wrists. As if she were in a daze, she reached for his right hand and held it while she unbuttoned his cuff and pushed his sleeve up. His forearm was wrapped in bandages from the wrist to the elbow. Grimly, she uncovered his left arm as well and found it in the same condition. She held both of his hands and stared down at his arms in disbelief. The tears were unbidden but they slid down her cheeks anyway.

"Why?" she whispered.

"I don't remember. They tell me I did it with the broken neck of a gin bottle." He laughed a little. "You know I love gin, but it doesn't love me."

"You just checked yourself out of the hospital." Terry stated.

"Yeah. Seemed like the thing to do."

"If you had stayed, they could have at least monitored you for infection." Terry sobbed, still holding his hands.

"No reason to stay. I don't have any feeling in my right hand. I can't paint."

"What? But won't it come back?"

Jason shrugged. "They said it might."

"Why do you do this?" Terry cried and squeezed his hands in hers.

The door opened. Terry bowed her head to hide her face, hoping the customer would go and look around. Instead, the footsteps came right up to the counter and stood there.

Terry and Gene 16

"Jeannetta!" Terry said, with a smile as she opened the door.

"Hi! You're here early," Jeannetta smiled back as she came in. "Honey, you're here really early. Have you been sleeping with my brother?" she teased.

Terry felt her face explode into crimson. "No. Nothing like that. Come here." Terry said and led her to the kitchen to show her the unopened bottle of whisky on the table.

"He called me at one this morning just about beside himself. He said he hadn't slept in four or five days." Terry said.

Jeannetta nodded. "Did he tell you?"

Terry nodded.

"I probably shouldn't have told him, but I was so scared," Jeannetta sat down at the table. Terry joined her. "I had already gone for the needle biopsy when I told him. I got the results this morning. It's clean. They are still going to remove it, but it's not cancerous." A tear ran down Jeannetta's cheek.

Terry squeezed her arm. "I am so happy for you. Gene will be so relieved." Terry took a deep breath.

"So, my brother hasn't taken you to bed yet?" Jeannetta teased. "He's been seeing you for, what, three months now? Honey that's some kind of a record. Don't tell me you're still a virgin." Jeannetta laughed.

"No. I'm not. But thanks for asking. And the pace of our relationship is just fine with me." Terry said and stood up. "Do you think he's got any coffee here?"

Jeannetta stood up. "Let me do the honors. So, I guess he's sleeping now. What did you do for him?"

Terry related the actions she had taken and how he had acted after the shower. "It was about two-thirty, I think, when he fell asleep."

"Lavender, huh? Well, as long as it helped him. And what was in the tea?"

"Valerian root, chamomile, lavender and mint. He didn't like it, but I think he was past caring at that point."

"All that work and you probably could have just had sex with him and that would have done the trick." Jeannetta teased.

Terry just smiled and shook her head. "Do you ever not say what you're thinking?"

Jeannetta laughed and brought her a cup of coffee. "Want anything in it?"

"No. Black is good." Terry said. "Thanks."

They sat at the kitchen table, drinking their coffee in silence for a moment when they heard doors open and close upstairs.

"I wonder if he's just peeing or if he's going to come down," Jeannetta said.

Moments later they heard his footsteps on the stairs. Jeannetta stood up. He walked into the kitchen, wearing only a pair of ratty jeans.

"Jeannetta," he said and hugged her. "What did they find?"

"Just a tumor. Not cancer. They're still going to remove it," Jeannetta's voice cracked and she began to cry. Gene held her tightly and buried his face in her hair. Terry still sat at the table, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"As long as you're going to be OK, I don't care what they have to do." Gene said, releasing her. "And you," he turned to Terry "are my guardian angel. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I hope I keep doing it." He walked over and kissed her gently on the lips. He broke the kiss and looked down into her eyes. As always, Terry lost herself in them. He kissed her again.

"Alright, you two. Get a room. Or better yet, let's go get breakfast. I'm suddenly starving." Jeannetta said, bringing Terry back to reality.

"Sounds good. Let me get a shirt on." Gene said and left the room.

"So, what do we do with this?" Terry asked, pointing at the whisky bottle.

Jeannetta picked it up and put it in her huge handbag. "I have a whole collection of bottles Gene didn't open. I usually use them for parties." Jeannetta reached out and hugged her. "Thank you for taking care of him."

Terry and Gene 15

Even in the porch light Terry could see the dark circles under his eyes. It didn't look like he had bathed or shaved in days, either. She wrapped her arms around him and listened to his heart beating. At first, he just stood limply and let her hold him. Then he pulled away from her and shut the door. He leaned against it.

"Jeannetta found a lump in her breast," he said.

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry," she said and held him tighter. He slid to the floor and she went with him. She felt him fighting the tears. Once he seemed in control again, she sat back so he could look at her.

"Come with me. Let's see about getting you some sleep." She stood up and offered him her hands.

Once he was on his feet, she led him to the bathroom. "Take a shower. I'm going to make you some tea that will help relax you. I'll be back in three minutes, OK.

Gene nodded and began to undress. Terry rushed down to get the tea.

When she returned to the bathroom, he was just stepping out of the shower. He had a towel wrapped around him, but the sight of him so scantily clad nearly took her breath away.

She smiled shyly at him. "OK. Take me to your bedroom and we'll see if you can get some sleep tonight," she said quietly.

He took her offered hand and brought her to his bedroom. She could tell he was barely functioning because his expression never changed. The bed was still made.

Terry turned the bed down for him. He dropped the towel and slipped under the sheets. Terry felt her face redden, but she stuck to the job at hand.

"First, drink this. It should be cool enough now." Gene took the cup and drained it, only making a face to comment on the taste. Terry took the lavender oil and crawled up on the bed. She rubbed a little into his temples, palms and the soles of his feet. "If you can lay on your stomach, I can do your back," she murmured in his ear and kissed his cheek.

Obediently, he slid down and laid on his stomach. Terry folded the sheet down to his hips and used some of the lavender lotion to massage his back. Just gentle massage, no pounding or contact with the spine. She was about five minutes into it when she heard him snore. She slipped off the bed and covered him. Watching him, she waited a few more moments to be sure he stayed asleep and then she settled herself in the chair across the room from him.

She woke several times to check on him. Each time he was breathing evenly, but it was several hours before he turned over in his sleep. Finally at about ten o'clock, she got up from the chair and visited the bathroom. As she was coming out, the doorbell rang. She rushed to get it so they wouldn't ring it again.

Terry and Gene 14

"Gene, please don't. Can I come over? I've got some natural sleep remedies that we can try. Please?" She was already up, finding her clothes.


"I've already tried all that crap. If I could just have one drink, I'd be OK." Gene sounded desperate.

Terry got dressed as much as she could with one hand. "Gene, listen to me. I can be there in less than an hour. I'll call you on my cell and you can talk to me the whole time. Please. Let me try to help you."


Half dressed, Terry went into the bathroom and got some lavender oil and lotion.

Gene sighed. "OK. But you'll call me on your cell?"


"Yes. Give me two minutes to get dressed and I'll call you right back."

"OK." Gene hung up on her.


Terry finished dressing and rushed into the kitchen to get some sleep aid tea and shoved all of it into a bag. She grabbed her cell phone and raced down the stairs to her van. As soon as she closed the door, she dialed Gene.

"Terry?"


"Yes. I'm in the van now. I'll be there as fast as I can. Gene, what happened?"

"I'll tell you when you get here."


"OK. Did you buy a bottle already?"

"Yeah," dejectedly.


"OK. Where is it?"

"Sitting here in front of me. God, Terry, I'm so tired but I just can't sleep." He sounded like he wanted to cry.


"Can you leave it where it is and go to another room until I get there?"

A deep sigh. "Yeah. You'll keep talking to me?:"


"Yes. I'm here."

Terry grilled him on his physical symptoms while she drove. He wasn't in any physical pain, so he probably wasn't sick. She asked if he'd been eating and he said he wasn't sure. Something had pushed him over the edge, but he wasn't telling her what it was.


"Where are you now?" Terry asked him.

"In the Genesis room," he said. "With the door locked. I left the bottle in the kitchen."


"OK. I'm only another ten or fifteen minutes away." Five, if I can keep up this speed and not get caught.

She continued to talk to him until she pulled into his driveway.


"OK. I'm here. Can you come to the door?" There was no answer, but as she got to the door, it opened.

Terry and Gene 13

Gene began calling her three or four times a week. They saw each other whenever Gene's schedule permitted it. Terry had never felt so wonderful. People were asking her if she was losing weight or if she had dyed her hair because they knew something was different, but weren't sure what it was.

***

Then, a week went by and Gene hadn't called her. She was a little worried and had tried to call him once, but got his answering machine. She figured something had come up that he couldn't get away from and she tried to sweep her concern under the rug.

When her phone rang Wednesday morning at one o'clock, Terry found her worry again.

"Hello?"

"Terry, it's Gene." Something was not right about his tone.

"Hey, I was worried about you. Are you OK?"

"No."

"What's wrong?"

"I haven't slept in four or five days." His voice shook.

Terry sat up. "Why not?"

"Terry, I need a drink. Bad."

Terry and Gene 12

Gene was standing next to her bed, looking at a painting on the wall. It was a nude. Or, a partial one since there was a sheet covering most of the torso.

"That's you," Gene said flatly.

"Yes."

"And Jason painted it."

"Yes."

"No wonder you're his favorite customer," Gene said, crossing his arms and turning an icy stare on her.

Terry pressed her lips together. "I was his favorite customer. That was over a year ago." She saw him relax a little. "I met Jason at the hospital while he was drying out. I was picking up art for the gallery and saw his work. So, I went to meet him and things went forward from there. We were only together for nine months but he was sober the entire time. Everyone thought he had finally gotten control over it." Gene looked down at her. He must have seen the hurt in her eyes because his melted. "Then one day he finally told me that he loved me," she laughed. "I thought he was going to ask me to marry him. Instead he told me that he loved alcohol more and that he felt empty without it. I told him that I couldn't play second fiddle to his addiction. So... that was that."

"Do you still see him?"

Terry gave him a wry half smile. "You mean, am I still sleeping with him."

Gene looked at her in silence.

"I'm not. In fact, he hasn't even been at the hospital in the last four or five months."

"You can tell he loved you by the way he painted you."

Terry felt tears sting her eyes. She blinked them quickly away.

"Come on, let me show you my garden," she said and took his hand. She pulled him into the hallway and reached up to open the hideaway stairs. She led him up to the roof.

The sun was just setting, so there was still plenty of light. She had a cactus garden and a little herb garden and she showed him her plants. She also had a two seated glider and this is where they ended up sitting, holding hands.

"I'm sorry for getting angry," Gene said.

"Understandable. That picture is a little shocking. Though I'm not exactly sure how you ended up in my bedroom," she teased and saw him turn his face away.

"Would you get rid of that picture if I asked you to?" Gene asked.

"If our relationship warranted it, yes, I would. If you're asking me to get rid of it today, the answer is no."

Gene nodded, seeming to accept that answer.

"It's awesome up here."

"Yeah. You can see the whole town and the City is off in the distance behind us. Once it gets dark, you can see the lights.

Gene stared ahead. Terry turned and looked out at the horizon with him.

"I've been dry for a year and a half so far this time," Gene said quietly.

"One day at a time, right?" Terry said.

"Right." Gene sighed. He released her hand and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and rested her head on his chest. Now it was her turn to sigh. They stayed there until well after dark.

"I'd better get going," Gene said finally.

"OK," Terry sighed and slowly got out of the glider with Gene following her just as hesitantly.
She held the screen door open for him and watched him climb down the stairs. She followed, making sure everything was securely closed. They walked to the front door, holding hands. She opened it for him and he stepped down onto the stairs. She stood in the doorway. He turned to her. "Thank you," he said, quietly.

"Thank you for coming," she said, her heart pounding wildly.

Gene took her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the mouth. Terry had never felt so cherished in her entire life. She shivered when he released her.

"Good night," he said and walked down the stairs.

Terry and Gene 11

The gallery was closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays so Terry spent Wednesday morning shopping for dinner ingredients and Wednesday afternoon cleaning. When five o'clock rolled around she took a shower and dressed in a floor length navy blue sundress and her work shoes since she would be standing while cooking.

She made a pitcher of iced tea and waited for him to arrive.

At five forty-five, there was a knock on the door. She straightened her dress and looked out the peep hole. There Gene was in all his glory. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi," she said, smiling.

"Hi." He looked around as he came in.

She had the living room dimly lit with candles. Only the kitchen light was on.

"This is my space," she said, opening her arms. "The bathroom is down that little hall and to the right. This is my living room, kitchen and," touching the breakfast counter pass through, "dining room."

Gene looked at the paintings that she had on her walls.

"Are these by the same guy that did mine?"

Terry nodded. "Sometimes I buy his work direct. Some he's given to me. I used to be his favorite customer." she said with a bitter laugh.

Gene turned around with a little frown. Terry glossed over it.

"Come have a seat," she patted one of the bar stools. "And I'll start cooking."

He was still frowning when he came to sit down.

"I have iced tea, mineral water or milk." He had drunk mineral water at Franco's, so she had bought some.

"Mineral water," he smiled at her now. She poured him a glass and poured herself some iced tea. Then she set to work.

First, she started the Alfredo sauce, because it had to cook on low and she started water boiling for the fettuccine. The broccoli was already in the steamer and the chicken was marinating in the refrigerator.

"This Alfredo sauce isn't authentic, but it's yummy" she said as she put the ingredients in the pot.

"I don't think anyone besides my mom and sister have ever cooked for me."

"Really? I like to cook." She took a red, green and yellow pepper out of the fridge and scrubbed them in the sink.

"Why all the peppers?"

Terry shrugged. "I like the colors. Also, they each taste a little different." She seeded them and cut them into strips. She gave Gene a couple of each color to try and kept a couple of each out for herself, too.

"The red and the yellow ones are sweeter, kind of." he said.

She nodded. "The green ones are immature red peppers, I think."

She had already turned on her cast iron skillet. She poured in a little olive oil and swirled it around. Then she put in the peppers and let them cook a little. She put the chicken, which she had pounded thin, in the skillet as well. She stirred the Alfredo sauce, dropped the pasta, and set the timer on the steamer.

She could feel Gene's eyes on her, but she couldn't look at him for fear that she would get lost and forget what she was doing.

Everything was done at once. She plated the food, put the pots in the soapy water to soak and refilled their drinks before seating herself next to Gene.

"That was amazing," he said, smiling at her.

"Well, thank you," she said, feeling her cheeks redden.

They chatted about nothing much during dinner. Terry cleared their plates and brought out chocolate chip cookies and milk for dessert.

Gene laughed, obviously delighted in her choice of dessert.

"I can't remember the last time I had this, either," and he laughed again. Terry smiled. This was almost too good to be true.

After dessert, she asked him if he could stay for a while or if he had to go.

He looked down at her and smiled. "No. I can stay, but where's your bathroom again?"

"Down the little hall and off to the right. Let me wash up these dishes quick and I'll show you my garden."

Terry washed up the dishes and set them to dry in the drainer. Then she realized that Gene wasn't back yet. She frowned and walked toward the hall. She saw that her bedroom light was on. Her heart thudded wildly as she walked toward it.

Terry and Gene 10

A week passed before she heard from Gene again. This time, he stopped in at the gallery.

"Well, hi," Terry smiled at him.

"Hey" he said. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"Anything new in here?"

Terry nodded. "The back room where you found your picture has several new things."

Gene smiled at her and wandered off to that room.

When he returned, she was concluding a sale with another customer. He looked around the room, waiting for her to finish. Once they left, he approached her.

"I'm free Wednesday night, if you wanna get together."

Terry smiled. "Sure. Why don't you come to my place. I'll cook for you."

"Really?"

"Really. Are you allergic to anything?"

"Nope."

"Is there anything you won't eat?"

"Eggplant, turnips and rutabagas,"

"Eww. I don't blame you. OK. What time?"

"Is six OK?"

"Sure."

"Are you gonna give me directions?"

"Sure. Come here." She stepped from behind the counter and beckoned him out the front door. She led him around the side of the building. "See those stairs? I live up there."

"I think I can find you ," he laughed.

She walked back into the gallery.

"Wednesday at six then?" she asked before closing the door.

"Yup. See you then."

Terry and Gene 9

A glass of Merlot did wonders for Terry's nerves. She settled back and listened to Gene and Jeannetta get caught up on their lives. Then they began telling Terry stories about their childhood that had all of them laughing loud and uncontrollably more than once.

Considering how horribly it had begun, the "date" had ended up being very good. Better, probably with Jeannetta along so that Terry wasn't the center of attention.

Jeannetta had a room at the hotel, so she went there after lunch and Gene walked Terry out to the valet stand.

Terry handed her ticket to the valet again. Gene stood beside her, his arm touching hers.

"Can I see you again?" Gene asked. Terry turned to look up at him, but he kept his gaze straight ahead. Her heart fluttered at the sight of his chiseled face.

"Yes. I'm glad you still want to."

Gene snorted and turned to her. "I'm surprised you said 'yes' after Jeannetta got her claws into you."

"That was pretty painful, but all's well that ends well, right?"

Gene smiled down on her. "Right."

"Next time, it's my treat." Terry said. "Just let me know when you're ready."

"I will," Gene said, looking down into her eyes. Terry felt herself being pulled into the chocolate vortex of his gaze again.

Terry's van arrived and she accepted her keys and gave the valet a ten dollar tip.

Gene took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Thank you." he said and bent to kiss her on the cheek.

Terry jammed her keys into her thigh to make sure she was still alive.

Terry and Gene 8

"Jesus Christ, Jeannetta." Gene said, disgusted. "I can just imagine what you said to her."

Gino pressed a handkerchief into her hand. Terry covered her face with it and sobbed again.

"I was really mean. Oh, honey. I'm sorry. I really am. You have no idea how often this kind of thing happens. And I've always been right in the past."

Gene put his arm around her shoulders and rested his forehead against her temple. "This big, nasty bitch is my sister. She's protected me my whole life and is just too stubborn to stop. I'm sorry." he said into her ear.

Terry took several deep breaths and tried to calm down.

"Come on, honey. Let's go to the girl's room and fix our make-up. I'll buy a bottle of wine and we'll start over, OK?" Jeannetta's voice sounded teary.

Terry nodded. "OK. I'm sorry." She lifted her head and removed her glasses. When she looked up a slightly blurry Gene looked back at her. It was so easy to get lost in his coffee brown eyes.

She put her glasses back on and looked at Jeannetta who had this amused look on her face as she looked from Terry to Gene and back again.

Jeannetta took her arm and said "I'm stealing her away. We'll meet you at the table. Gino, a good Merlot, please."

Arm in arm, they went to the ladies room. Terry looked at her face in the mirror, grabbed some tissues and started repairing the tear damage. Jeannetta stood beside her and touched up her nose.

"I know I humiliated you and I really am sorry. Gene hasn't dated a 'real' girl since high school. I'm used to meeting brain dead blonds with fake tits." Terry laughed. "Will you please forgive me?"

"It's OK. I'm alright. I can't believe he asked me out, either." Terry laughed again.

"Don't sell yourself short. Something in you sang to him or you wouldn't be here." Jeannetta put her hand on Terry's shoulder and looked at her in the mirror. Terry felt her face get hot. Jeannetta laughed. "You are real. You blush and everything."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Not the ones without any shame. Come on, honey. He's waiting on you."

Terry and Gene 7

Terry opened her mouth to speak but the blond Amazon in the fur coat started talking again.

"Oh, come on, honey. Do you really think that if you sit here, Gene will magically show up, fall in love with you, and sweep you off your feet? Please. When are you groupies going to learn?"

"Miss Jennetta, this is..."

"What? His date?" she laughed. "Please Gino. She's not even his type. Come on, honey, get going. You don't belong here."

Terry sat through this with her mouth open, looking from Gino to Jeannetta.

"Miss Jeannetta..." Gino started, pleadingly.

Terry's senses came back to her and she nearly began to cry.

"No. It's OK. I don't know what I was thinking." Terry said quietly as she slid out of her seat.

"You are going to pay for that, aren't you, honey?" Jeannetta asked, pointing at her nearly full iced tea.

"Of course." She took a ten out of her purse and left it on the table. She all but ran out of the restaurant.

It was only her pride that kept her from bursting into tears as she handed the valet her ticket. She alternately clenched her jaw and bit her tongue to keep from crying, but she felt tears pricking behind her eyes anyway.

Suddenly, the scene erupted. Gene pulled up in his Mercedes and got out. "Terry?"
Jeanetta's voice from behind her called frantically. "Terry!"

Gino called her, too. "Ms. Stone!"

And the valet arrived with her van.

Terry tried to take the keys from the valet but Gene was too fast for her and snatched them from his hand.

"Where are you going?" Gene asked. Then "Jeanetta!" and he hugged the odious Amazon.

Terry tried to walk away but Gino stopped her. "Please, Ms. Stone. Just wait. Everything will be explained in a moment."

Terry felt a tear roll down her cheek. Then another. She covered her face and sobbed and everything stopped.

"Terry! What's wrong?" Gene cried, his hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, Gene. It's all my fault. She didn't look like your type..." Jeannetta trailed off.

Terry and Gene 6

When Terry arrived home after making her delivery, she sat at her kitchen table and played a couple games of Solitaire. She wasn't horribly nervous yet, but every so often she would feel her stomach flutter.

Finally the time came for her to get ready. She showered and got dressed. She wore her "little black dress" and twisted her hair into a loose topknot and held it in place with hairpins that had a shiny black bead at the bend. She put on her strappy black sandals and then the reality hit her. I'm going out on a lunch date with a rock star. Her heart pounded so hard she could hardly breathe.

She tried to time her trip so that she arrived at two o'clock. She pulled up to the valet parking and half-expected a sneer from the guy who took her keys. But he smiled kindly at her and took the keys to her ten year old van. She made her way to the restaurant.

The maitre'd greeted her.

"I'm supposed to meet Gene Grey here," she said.

"Your name?"

"Terry Stone."

He looked down at his list and then smiled at her. "Right this way, Ms. Stone. I just received a call from Mr. Grey. He wanted you to know he'll be about twenty minutes late."

"Thank you," Terry said as he led her to a seat in a curtained alcove. Terry tried to take a calming breath.

"Would you like anything to drink?"

"Iced tea, please." she answered as she sat down.

The curtain was a crimson crushed velvet and the chairs were covered with the same material. The crimson and cream tablecloths matched the napkins which were placed under the silverware rather than around it.

When they brought her tea, it was in a goblet with a thin slice of lemon and a mint leaf on top. Everything about this place was elegant and gorgeous.

She had taken a couple sips of her tea when she heard a loud woman's voice chatting cheerily as it came closer.

"It's OK Gino. I'll just wait at his table. He'll be so surprised to see me... Who are you?" The woman addressed Terry as she stepped around the curtain.

Terry and Gene 5

A couple of weeks passed. Terry hadn't forgotten about the meeting with Gene. Far from it. But she figured he wasn't going to call her. She wasn't really surprised or disappointed as she wasn't exactly the musicians' girlfriend type. She was short and dumpy with brown hair, brown eyes and glasses. Nothing like the trophies that were usually on a rock star's arm.
Monday night she was mulling this over as she got ready for bed. Just as she laid down, the phone rang. Startled, she picked up the receiver and promptly dropped it on the floor.

"Hello?" she said after retrieving it.

"Terry?" a man's voice asked.

"Yes?"

"It's Gene."

"Oh, hi!" she said and sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Did I wake you?"

"No. I'm just a dork and I dropped the phone. How are you?

"I'm OK. Do you have a lot of deliveries to make tomorrow?"

"O-only one." I can't believe I just stuttered.

"You wanna meet for lunch?"

Terry took a deep breath. "Sure. I was planning on making the delivery at ten in the morning."

"Cool. Do you know where Franco's is?"

Terry knew where Franco's was. In the most expensive hotel in the city.

"Yes."

"Wanna meet there at two?"

"OK. Two at Franco's tomorrow." She repeated, stunned. Good thing I just got paid.

"Cool." There was silence for just a moment. "It's good to hear your voice. I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner."

"It's OK." Terry felt herself blush.

"You didn't think I'd call."

"No, I didn't."

"Why?"

"I'm not exactly the glamorous musician type."

"If you mean you're not the souvenir-collecting, brain-dead, 'had work done' type, you're right."

Terry laughed. "No. I meant I'm not the svelte, beautiful, sexy type."

Gene sighed. "I think you have a caring heart and an intelligent mind. To me, that's beautiful and sexy." he said.

Terry felt herself blush from her toes to her hairline. "Wow. Thank you." It was all she could do to continue breathing.

"Tomorrow at two then?" Gene asked.

"Yes," she said, forcing the sound out.

"OK. I'll see you then. Good night."

Terry hung up the phone and laid down. It was a good hour before her heart stopped pounding and she could get to sleep.

Terry and Gene 4

"My phone number?" The very thought of Gene Grey asking for her phone number was mind-numbing.

"Yeah. So I can dial the phone and talk to you."

"Oh. OK." she said. I sound so stupid.

When they got to the front door, she set the wad of paper on the floor and took her wallet out of her pocket.

"Do you have a pen?" she asked. He produced one from the table in the foyer.
She wrote her phone number on the back of her business card. She swallowed hard as she handed it to him. He gazed into her eyes and she felt herself sinking again.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and bend over to pick up the paper.

"Well. Thank you again." she breathed and moved toward the door. He opened it for her.

"Good night. " he said.

"Good night."

When she arrived back in her neck of the woods, she called and ordered Chinese food and stopped by to pick it up. As soon as she walked through the door, she picked up her phone and the broken dial tone told her that she had voice mail. While she unloaded the food from the bag, she listened to her messages. One from her sister and one from Gene.

"Terry, I don't know exactly what was going through your head, but you had doubt written all over your face. I will call you. I want to get to know you better. Talk to you later."

Terry checked the time on the message. It was about five minutes after she had left his house. She erased it and called her sister.

"Ann, you'll never believe what happened to me today." And Terry related the story.

"You need to be careful. What if he's a weirdo?"

"If he's a weirdo, I'll call the cops."

Terry heard Ann sigh. "He's probably a big jerk."

"OK. Could you just try to be excited for me? I've liked this guy's music for years and now I got to meet him. One on one. Not even at a press conference or anything. And he asked for my phone number and he already called me once. It's kind of exciting, you know?"

"OK, OK. Just watch yourself."

It was Terry's turn to sigh. "I will."

Terry and Gene 3

When Tuesday arrived, Terry woke up, showered, and planned her delivery route over breakfast. Her heart began to pound again as she thought about going to Gene's house. He was the farthest away, so she would go there last.

She dressed sensibly in jeans, tennis shoes, and a t-shirt because sometimes the clients asked her to hang the paintings for them.

By the time she reached Gene's house, it was almost four p.m. It was pretty modest for a rock star. No huge front gate. No security shack. It was still a large house. Probably has a woman in every room, she thought and smiled at her own joke.

She carefully removed the painting from her van and carried it to the front door. The door opened as she got there and, to her surprise, it was Gene who held it open for her.

"Hi," she said as she walked in. "Where would you like it?" She was out of breath, but not from the weight of the painting.

He led her to the back of the house in silence. Here was a room with black walls, purple carpet, and a purple ceiling. The curtains were heavy and also purple. All of the furniture was black. She set the painting down on the sofa and carefully unwrapped it. Gene picked it up and hung it over a desk on the left side of the room. He reached up and adjusted the track lights so they would show off the painting. Terry smiled as she looked at it.

When she looked at Gene again, he was staring at her, a half smile on his lips. Terry felt the heat boil over in her cheeks and looked down.

"Well, thank you." She turned to gather up the wrappings from the painting.

"Why were you smiling?" he asked. She could tell he had moved closer to her.

"I really love it when one of our paintings is hung in a place of honor." she said without turning around. This is weird.

"How do you know this is a 'place of honor'? Maybe I never even come in here." Terry slowly looked around the room. There were several guitars on stands, paper and pencils everywhere, and several notebooks on the desk beneath the painting.

Terry looked at him. His eyes were teasing her. "Right," she said. "This is a Genesis room, if I ever saw one."

"A Genesis room." he said. "Never thought of it that way."

Terry took the paper and crumpled it into a ball. She turned toward the door.

"How many more deliveries do you have?" Gene asked as he led her back to the front door.

"None. I'm heading home."

"To your husband?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No."

"Girlfriend?"

"No."

"Kids?"

"No. And no pets, either. Anything else you want to know?" Terry laughed.

"Your phone number."

Terry and Gene 2

Terry gasped at the tone in his voice. "I'm sorry. It's a miserable, lonely picture. No one should have to feel that way." She stopped short of saying she felt sorry for him She wanted to lower her eyes, but she was caught up in his angry glare. She didn't breathe again until he turned away from her.

He pointed at the price tag. "How much of this do you get?" Still anger in his voice.

Here also, was a question that was always asked. "Twenty percent goes to me, twenty percent to the artist and sixty percent to the hospital."

Gene nodded, losing himself in the dark landscape once again.

"I'll take it." he said quietly.

Terry nodded. "Would you like to take it with you now or can I deliver it to you?"

Gene turned and looked at her. "You make the deliveries?"

Terry nodded. "If it's local. Otherwise, I'll have it shipped to wherever you like, but you pay the shipping costs."

"What's local?"

"No more than a two hour drive."

"OK. Deliver it then."

Terry turned and walked toward the front of the store. "OK. I make my deliveries on Tuesdays. Will there be someone there to accept it?"

"Yeah."

Terry took down the address, accepted the money, and thanked Gene for his donation. She filled out a receipt and gave it to him. She smiled up at him and got lost in his gaze again. Her heart beat so hard against her breast she was sure he would see it shaking.

The sound of another customer arriving interrupted their communion. Terry reached up and touched her cheek, flustered.

Gene looked down at her nametag. "Thanks, Terry." And he left.

Terry and Gene 1

"Good Morning," Terry said and looked up to smile at the customer who had come into the gallery. Her heart did a flip in her chest as she recognized the tall blond man who nodded at her before turning to look at the wall of paintings behind him. It wasn't the first time a celebrity had stopped in at her gallery. The famous usually had more money than they needed and purchasing art from her shop was a tax deduction, so she often made large sales to their kind. But this was Gene Grey, her favorite singer from her favorite band. She watched as he looked at the paintings. His longish blond hair hung straight down the back of his neck and his broad shoulders were well displayed by the black trench coat he wore. But beneath the nice coat, a pair of faded jeans and ratty tennis shoes shown. Terry smiled to herself and returned to inputting her sales data so her artists could be paid at the end of the month.

When she looked up again, he was gone. Probably in one of the back rooms, she thought. Then she saw him come out into the main part of the gallery again. His coat was open and she could see the gray sweatshirt he wore. She gritted her teeth and smiled slightly as he approached her.

"I have a question about one of the paintings."

"Sure. Show me which one," she said as she stepped out from behind the counter. She followed him into the back room and he pointed at a large picture.

It was an urban landscape done in black, gray and purple. In the foreground there was a broken and dejected man clutching a bottle. As you looked up, an alleyway extended with the buildings looming on either side of it. If you looked closer, you could see that the coloring and shadows on the buildings were actually faces, some beautiful, some hideous.

She nodded and turned to Gene.

"What can I tell you?"

"Do you know this guy?"

She nodded. "Jason. His work is very good."

"What's his story?"

People often asked her questions about the artists. Sometimes it was the stories she told about them that sold the artwork. Jason's story, however, wasn't all that pitiable.

"Jason is an alcoholic. Unfortunately, we see him at the hospital regularly. The truth is that he does his best work when he's sober. He just isn't able to stay that way for very long." Jason just made her sad.

Gene nodded and turned back to the painting.

"I know that feeling." Gene said as he looked at it. Terry sighed. She had heard that Gene had a drinking problem.

"What was that for?" Gene asked sharply and turned to face her.

Carrie and Keith 23

"Thanksgiving is only two weeks away." Carrie commented as they sat down to dinner. Justin and Keith had come over for some of Carrie's specialty: Lasagna. Carrie walked around the table and poured each of them a glass of Lambrusco.

"Know what I'm most thankful for?" Keith asked as she poured his wine.

"What's that?"

"You," Keith grabbed her arm. She looked down at him and smiled. Taking the wine bottle from her hand, he cleared his throat. "Carrie," his voice cracked anyway. "Will you marry me?" He held up an engagement ring for her to see.

Kim gasped, Justin smiled, and Carrie burst into tears.

"Oh my god. Yes!" she wailed and bent down to hug him.

Keith pulled her left hand up so he could put the ring on her finger. His hand shook so bad he could hardly get it on her. He laughed at himself.

Justin raised his glass. "To the newly betrothed." Everyone fumbled for their glasses to clink them together.

Carrie and Keith 22

A knock on the door was quickly followed by the sound of Justin's voice. "Hey, Keith!"

"He's still asleep," Carrie called from the kitchen.

Justin walked in. "Carrie?" his eyes wide, obviously taken aback.

"Hi," she waved and returned to stirring her coffee. "I just finished making the coffee if you want some." She licked the spoon and set it on the table before taking a sip.

Justin helped himself to a cup and sat next to her at the table.

"It's 11:00." Justin said.

Carrie looked over at the clock on the microwave. "11:04" she said with a little smile. "It was a long night." She looked up at him. He just blinked at her.

She laughed a little. "I know I look like hell. And the long night wasn't nearly so fun as it sounds. Mostly it was me yelling and crying."

"So, why is he still asleep?"

"I don't think he's had a full night's sleep in a while. Every time I've looked in on him, he's been out like a light."

"You don't look like you're sleeping or eating right, either."

"I haven't been," Carrie sighed. "But I will again."

***

Keith smelled coffee. He rolled onto his back and put his hand out. Carrie was gone. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The clock said 11:15. I hope she's still here.

He heard voices as he walked to the kitchen. Carrie looked up and smiled at him. In the daylight he could see the ravages their separation had taken on her. But that smile lit up her face and made her look instantly healthier.

"Hey Keith," Justin said.

"Good morning," said Carrie. "I made coffee."

"Hey," he said and clapped Keith on the shoulder, but he kept his eyes on Carrie.

"It's after 11:00." Justin informed him.

"Yeah. I know. I was sleeping pretty hard." Carrie and he were locked into each other's gaze.

Justin cleared his throat. "Well, I just came to say 'hi'. I'll talk to you later." he said and made his exit.

"Bye" they said in unison as the door closed.

Keith sat down in Justin's vacated seat.

"How are you?" he asked quietly.

"Better than last night," she said with a smile.

"Me too." he said and took a sip of Justin's coffee. "You smell good."

"I took the liberty of using your shower a couple hours ago."

"I need to do that myself."

Carrie stood up. "Well, come on and I'll wash your back."

Keith couldn't scramble to his feet fast enough.

Carrie and Keith 21

The briefest smile flickered across her face. Keith suddenly felt exhausted.

He let Carrie crawl into the bed first. Then he shut off the light and followed her. For a while, they lay stiffly under the covers, not touching. He heard her sigh and then she reached across him and grabbed his arm. She rolled over and pulled him along with her so they lay like spoons in a drawer. She held his arm around her waist and snuggled back against him. He felt her sigh again.

"Carrie, I'm sorry." he said into her damp curls. "I'm an idiot. I know Joey likes to piss me off and I believed his bullshit anyway." She remained silent. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I know that it's over between us. I just want you to know how sorry I am."

He felt her stomach knot. Then she began to cry. Her entire body shook with the sobs. Suddenly, she rolled over and got up on her knees. She pushed Keith on to his back and grabbed the front of his shirt, putting her face right in front of his.

"I've got nothing to lose. Do you understand? And I know I'll never hear this from you, but I don't care. I love you, Keith. I've loved you from the day you asked to read my story. And even when you move on with your life, I will still love you." Carrie laid her face down on top of her fists.

"You love me?"

Carrie sat up again. "Oh my god! Yes! Every time I touched you, I tried to send a message through my hands into you. That's why I slept with you the minute you asked. Not because I do it every day as part of my job but because I would give you anything that you asked for." Carrie pulled the collar of the sweatshirt over her face and sobbed into it.

Keith pushed himself up into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard.

"Come here to me," he said. Carrie crawled over and he pulled her onto his lap. He held her, breathing in the scent of her warm, damp hair until she stopped crying.

"I'm an asshole and I don't deserve your love or your forgiveness, but I'll take both if you'll take me back. I love you more than life itself."

"I love you more than that," Carrie whispered.

Carrie and Keith 20

The weather had been threatening all day. Dark clouds scudding across the sky and the occasional clap of thunder as he drove home from work promised to deliver buckets of rain. He was about a mile from home when it started to pour.

By the time he had picked up his mail and managed to get under the protection of the porch, he was soaked through. He walked in and dropped his clothes in the doorway before limping to the bedroom for something dry to wear. He had just gotten his jeans on when he heard a knock at the door. He grabbed his shirt, walked into the hallway and arrived in the living room in time to see the door open.

"Carrie?"

She stood, water dripping from her curls and her clothing stuck to her like a second skin, looking at him.

"Jesus Christ, did you walk here?"

She cleared her throat. "Can I just stay until the storm passes?"

"Sure. But couldn't you have driven over?" He pulled his shirt on.

"I went for a walk. I thought I could beat the weather home." She shivered.

"Let me get you some dry clothes."

"No. I'm fine."

"Just come on," Keith said, frustrated. He turned and walked down the hall. He heard her follow him.

He grabbed some socks, sweatpants and a sweatshirt and laid them on the unmade bed. He stood up and looked at her.

She was leaning against the door jamb, eyes lowered. Besides being dripping wet, she was pale, almost transluscent. There were heavy, dark circles under her eyes and her face was drawn as if she hadn't been eating. All he wanted to do was pull her to him and hold her. She looked up at him.

He looked away and cleared his throat. "Here, you can change in here. Bring me your wet clothes and I'll throw them in the dryer for you."

She stepped into the room. He walked out past her. She began undressing before he even closed the door. He saw her pull her shirt over her head. His breath caught in his throat and he quickly turned his eyes away.

Moments later, she came out, wet clothes in hand. Without a word, he took them from her and limped down to the laundry room, picking his own wet clothes up on the way, and put them in the dryer together.

When he returned, he found her in the living room, sitting on the sofa. Keith could not help but smile when he saw her. She looked like a child playing dress-up wearing his clothes. She didn't smile back.

Keith went to her and held out his hand. "Come with me."

She reached up and took his hand and he helped her up from the couch. He walked her to the bedroom. Once in the doorway, she pulled her hand away.

"I just want you to warm up. I'm not going to try anything. Cross my heart." he said, making the motion.

Carrie and Keith 19

Carrie looked over her appointments for the day. 10:00--Joey Ruffalo. She groaned to herself.

"Good morning, Mr. Ruffalo," she said when she went to pick him up from the waiting room.

"Carrie?" She could hear the shock in his voice.

"Yes, sir. Please follow me." She walked down the hall.

When they were in the room, Joey looked at her. "God damn, you're not sleeping or eating either?"

"I'm going behind the screen. Please disrobe and cover yourself with this sheet. Let me know when you're done." Carrie sighed as she seated herself on the stool behind the partition.

"Shit. It's my fault, Carrie. I'm sorry," she could hear him undressing as he spoke. "I didn't think he'd take me so seriously."

Carried sighed again

"No offence, but you look terrible." Joey said. "I'm ready."

"Are you having any pain or stiffness anywhere?" she asked.

"Nope."

"What did you mean, 'I'm not sleeping or eating either'?" she asked as she folded back the sheet to work on his shoulders.

"He's a male version of you. Losing weight, big dark circles under his eyes, pale. You might make a whole person between the two of you.

"Carrie, he wanted to apologize to you, but your housemate wouldn't let him in."

"I know. I told her to keep him away."

"You should go see him. You two need each other."

Carrie started to cry. She stepped away from Joey and covered her face with her hands. She heard him sit up.

"I'm sorry. Someday I'll learn to keep my mouth shut." he said.

"It's OK. I'm sorry for crying in front of you." She found some tissues and tried to take deep breaths while she cleaned up her face.

"Go see him. If nothing else, you can tell him what an asshole he is."

Carrie laughed a little. "Maybe I should."

Carrie and Keith 18

Carrie was a another problem altogether. She never walked by any more. He didn't have her phone number because they had always talked in person. The only option was to go to her house and apologize face-to-face.

Another whole week passed before Keith could bring himself to see her. Finally, before going home after work Friday, he went to her house. Her car was in the driveway. He took a deep breath and walked up the steps.

Kim met him on the front porch. "What do you want?"

"I need to talk to Carrie," he said.

"She doesn't need to talk to you," Kim replied, arms akimbo.

Keith stared at her. He felt his blood pressure rising. "I want to apologize to her," he said through clenched teeth.

"For what? For destroying her? Because that's what you've done. You've absolutely destroyed her. She doesn't need you or your apology. She needs some healing time so she can move on with her life. Without you."

"You're not going to let me see her," Keith stated numbly.

"No."

"Will you tell her I'm sorry?"

"No."

"You're not even gonna tell her I was here, are you?" Keith snapped.

"No. Just mentioning your name makes her cry."

"Kim..."

"Just go home. You've done enough damage here." Kim turned and went into the house, closing the door behind her.

***

Three weeks had passed. Joey and Justin were with Keith in the basement, waiting for Michael to arrive.

"Keith, man, you have got to start eating and sleeping. You look like shit." Joey said.

Keith snorted. "Thanks," he said, a bitter little smile on his lips.

"Why don't you go and talk to her?" Justin asked.

"Yeah. I tried that. That bitch she lives with won't let me in, her number is unlisted and she never walks by the house anymore. And I don't want to go where she works because I don't want to get her fired."

"What were you gonna say to her, anyway?: Joey asked.

"I was going to apologize. That's all."

"Did you tell her that?" Justin asked.

"I tried. She told me that I destroyed her and that she didn't need me or my apology." He bent his head. "God damn." he said, rubbing his eyes.

Carrie and Keith 17

Keith posted the note on his front door before he left.

"Take your shit home. I'm out of the band."

He limped down the stairs, got in his car, and drove away.

When he got back home, it was well after midnight. Justin's car was still out front. Keith groaned as he pulled into the driveway. He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. His choices were to leave again, sleep in the car, or go in and let Justin have his say. He bowed his head and got out of the car.

Slowly, he limped up the stairs and into the house. He found Justin sitting on the sofa, listening to the radio.

"What?" Keith asked wearily when Justin stared at him.

"You look like hell. Are you not sleeping? Or not eating? Or both?"

Keith sighed. "I'm fine." he said and sat in the chair across the room from him.

"Yeah. You look fine," Justin sneered and looked away from him. He took a deep breath. "I don't know what you think she did, but you're wrong." Justin turned and gazed intently at him.

"She admitted it to me! And she said she did it for all of her clients!" Keith leaned forward.

"What? That she rubs their feet?"

"What?"

"Yeah. She rubbed his feet after she finished the massage."

"Yeah. I bet." Keith snorted and sat back in the chair.

"You dumbass!" Justin's voice was rising. "You have no idea where she works or what she does. You're basing everything on Ruffalo's -- fucking Ruffalo's -- comment! You value his word that much?" Justin was now standing, waving his arms wildly.

Keith stared at him, dumbfounded. Oh shit, he thought.

"Shit," he said and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Did you get in a fight with her over it, too?"

Keith nodded numbly without looking up.

"Good job! You've broken up the band and lost Carrie over a god damn foot rub." Keith could hear Justin pacing as he yelled. "Now what? Are you going to let yourself hit bottom like you did after you lost Vickie? Are you going to make me watch you die a little everyday again?

"Here's some advice. Apologize to both of them and hope they can forgive your sorry ass." Justin walked out and slammed the door behind him.

I am a dumbass.

***

Keith listened to the phone ring and took a deep breath.

"Hello?" Joey answered.

"Hey, Joe. It's Keith."

"Hey man."

Keith cleared his throat. "Listen. I'm sorry about last week. I'm a little touchy about her, I guess."

For a moment, there was silence.

"Ya know what, man? It wasn't your fault. I just like giving you shit. I didn't realize how serious you were about her or I wouldn't have said that. Don't worry about it."

Keith heaved a sigh. "So, do you want to come back and sing?"

"Yeah. Sunday night?"

"Yeah. See ya then."

"Alright." Joey said and hung up.

Well, that was easier than I thought.

Carrie and Keith 16

Keith stiffened as he felt Carrie's arms around him. She released him immediately and stepped in front of him.

"Are you OK? Oh my god, what happened to your face?" She reached for his bruised cheek. He jerked his head away. Her green eyes widened.

Keith stared stonily at her. She returned his gaze and he saw fear in her eyes. He bent down and put his face inches from hers.

"I heard Joey came to visit you," he snarled.

Carrie stared at him. "He did." She took a step backwards.

Keith stood up and looked down at her. "Yeah. He announced to everyone how good you were."

"OK. I'm glad he was satisfied." Keith's blood boiled at her choice of words.

"He said you did something extra for him."

"Well, yes. I do that for all my clients."

Keith's jaw dropped. Then he closed his mouth and gritted his teeth. He turned away from her and started walking toward the house.

"What's wrong? I only treated him like any other client," she cried and moved in front of him.

"Back off!" he bent down and yelled it in her face. Carrie jumped and stepped aside.

"Keith, please tell me why you're so upset!" she begged as he walked past her.

Keith reached the top of the steps. He turned to face her. "No wonder you were so easy. It's no big deal for you since you do it for all your clients," he sneered. "Go home. I'm through with you." He heard her gasp as he turned away. He went inside without looking back.

***

Carrie stood on his sidewalk, too shocked to move. She felt her chest constricting. She gasped for air and desperately tried to calm herself. After several minutes she thought she could make it home. She turned and walked slowly down the street.

When she arrived at the house, she went inside and sat at the kitchen table and buried her face in her arms. She struggled to cry silently, but the sobs won out in the end.

"Carrie! What's wrong?" Kim cried and put her hand on Carrie's shoulder.

"He says he's through with me!" Carrie wailed.

Kim sighed, an angry, frustrated rush of air.

"God damn it." she said and pulled a chair up next to her. Kim rubbed her back and she sobbed even harder.

Carrie and Keith 15

Keith's skin felt like it had a life of it's own. Every beat of the drums, every note sung, every thump of his bass, every wail of the guitar brought a new wave of goosebumps. When they finished the song, Keith took a deep breath and smiled down at the floor. He couldn't hit a wrong note tonight.

When he looked up, Justin was watching him intently. He gave him a half smile. Justin simply nodded and they started the next song on their playlist.

When practice was over and they were putting everything away, Justin patted his shoulder.

"It's good to see you happy again," he said so Joey and Michael couldn't hear.

Keith smiled at him. It's good to feel happy again.

***

The day started out bad. He tripped and fell getting out of bed. Then, he broke his coffee pot and had to clean up the glass. This made him late for work and the boss chewed him out in front of everyone.

It didn't improve as the day wore on. He got home late and so missed Carrie. He could have stopped by her house, but the guys were coming over for practice and he didn't want to make them wait.

Keith sat on his stool, tuning his guitar. Joey turned to look at him.

"Hey, I paid a visit to your little massage therapist," Joey purred. Keith clenched his jaw and stared at Joey, waiting for what was to come. "She was very good. She even did me a little extra," Joey winked. "To ease my tension, ya know?"

Keith felt a white hot flash go off in his head. He slipped off his stool and calmly set his guitar on its stand. He took a couple steps toward Joey. He heard Justin call out to him, but he ignored it. Then he lifted his cane and grabbed the bottom of it like a baseball bat and swung at Joey's head.
Joey ducked and dove at Keith. They tumbled to the floor and began exchanging punches. Justin and Michael pulled them apart, but not before blood ran from Joey's nose and Keith could taste iron in his mouth. Justin brought over his cane and helped him to his feet.

Joey shook off Michael's grip and put his face in Keith's. "You could have killed me, you crazy bastard!" Joey yelled.

"It's too fucking bad I missed. Get the fuck out of my house," Keith growled.

Joey raised his hands. "I'm outta here," he said and stormed up the stairs. The basement windows rattled when he slammed the front door.

Keith turned a cold gaze on Justin and Michael.

"I guess I'll see you later," Michael said and went upstairs.

Justin sat down on Joey's stool. "You know he just said that to piss you off." Justin said.

Keith limped toward the stairs. "I should have known this was going to happen," he muttered and slowly made his way upstairs. Justin followed him closely.

When they reached the kitchen, Justin stood in front of Keith. "You don't really think she did anything, do you? He was just trying to piss you off." Justin repeated.

"What are you defending her for? She doing you, too?"

Justin pressed his lips together. "Whatever. I'll see you later," he said, turned on his heel, and walked out.

Keith sighed and went to his room. Fully clothed, he laid on the bed. He spent the night thinking. About Carrie. About Joey. About Carrie and Joey alone together in a small locked room with a bed in it.

Carrie and Keith 14

Carrie laughed out loud. "Boy, I'm really transparent, aren't I?" and she laughed again. Keith could not help but smile. "It's my birthday," Carrie said and looked at him coyly over her glass as she took another sip of wine.

"You weren't going to tell me," Keith accused.

"It doesn't matter. What I wanted most was to spend some time with you."

Keith felt his heart skip a beat. He took another swallow of his wine. A big swallow.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" Carrie asked after the salads arrived.

"No." Keith shook his head. "I just wish you would have told me."

The meal was terrific. There was more than enough food and they shared a piece of Tirami Su with their coffee for dessert.

When they pulled up in front of Keith's house, he touched her arm. "Come inside. I have something for you." he said.

"OK," she said and put the car in park.

When they got in, he said, "Have a seat. I'll be right back."

Keith walked into his bedroom and sat down at his desk. He had drawn a picture from Carrie's story in charcoal. It was of Joryant weathering the rock storm and the dragon looking at the bottoms of his feet for Joryant's remains. He hadn't planned on giving it to her today, but it worked out well anyway. He put the picture into a frame he had bought and stood up to bring it out to her.

He found her seated on the sofa, scarf off, looking up at the ceiling. She sat forward when he entered the room. He sat down beside her and handed her the frame face down.

"I'd have wrapped it if I had known it was your birthday," he said.

She turned it over "Oh!" she gasped. "It's awesome. Thank you," she said, smiling at him. She pulled him toward her and kissed his cheek. He touched her cheek and she turned to receive his kiss on her lips. He felt her shiver before he pulled away.

He looked at her for a moment and took the frame from her, laying it on the coffee table. "Come here," he said and tugged on her arm. She stood up and turned around to straddle his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like she meant it.

They were both breathing hard when they broke the kiss. Keith kissed her throat and felt her moan as much as he heard it. He slipped his hands under her shirt and felt the cool skin of her back under his palms. She bent to kiss him under his ear and sent goosebumps running down his back.

The next kiss was deeper. He ran his hands farther up her back until he felt her bra. He noted that there were not hooks on the back. He kissed her throat again as she arched her back and started to slide his hands around to the front.

Carrie sat back from him and let him touch her. She watched as his thumbs caressed her and she gasped a little. He looked up and found himself looking into her eyes.

"Do you have... I mean, I don't..." She stammered, her face bright red.

He covered her mouth with his fingers. "Yeah. Let me up." he whispered.

A moment later, they were walking into the bedroom. Keith closed the door behind them.

Carrie and Keith 13

Keith was just stepping out the door when Carrie drove up. Her car was an old, blue Chevy. It was big and roomy inside. Keith sat down carefully and pulled the door closed.

"Hi," she said and smiled at him. She was dressed head to toe in black. Even her head wrap was black. No hat today. Her pale skin nearly glowed next to the dark fabric.

He smiled back at her. "Hi. Hey, how come you were crying the other day?" He asked as they drove off.

Carrie was silent for a moment. "That was the first time that you initiated a hug." she said quietly.

The only sound came from the radio playing as Carrie drove to the restaurant. Keith felt like he was going on his first date ever. This is worse than puberty, he thought.

When they finally arrived, Carrie waited for him to get out of the car. She took his free hand and they walked toward the restaurant. Her hand was little and warm and somehow reassuring. He smiled at her even though she kept her head down and didn't see it.

Inside the restaurant it was dark and warm and smelled of tomatoes and garlic. They inhaled at the same time and then laughed.

"It's wonderful, ain't it?" she asked.

He looked down at her for a moment and the smile faded from her face. Even in the dim light, he thought he could see her blush.

"Yeah," he said, huskily. "It is."

"Hi. Just the two of you?" The hostess broke in.

Carrie giggled a little and turned to her. "Yes. Just us."

Carrie sat down next to him rather than across the table. She removed her head wrap and fluffed her curls with her hand before stuffing the wrap in her bag. She picked up the wine list.

"Are you a wine drinker?" she asked.

"I don't think I've ever had any." Keith replied. "Mostly beer and whiskey."

She laughed. "Can I order you a glass?"

"Sure," he smiled.

When the waitress arrived, Carrie ordered two glasses of Lambrusco. The waitress brought the wine and they ordered.

The waitress left and Carrie lifted her glass.

"Health, wealth and happiness," she toasted with a smile. They clinked glasses and took a sip of the deep red liquid. There was something almost tingly about the way it felt on his tongue.

Keith felt a light bulb go on in his head. "Are we celebrating something?" he asked suspiciously.

Carrie and Keith 12

Carrie was almost home when a car pulled up and honked at her. She turned to find Joey waving at her.

"Did you say you're a massage therapist?" he called. She nodded. "I've been looking for one. Do you have a card?"

"Yes. My place is right here. I'll bring you one."

Carrie went in and up to her room and got one of her business cards. When she returned, Joey was parked in front of her driveway, standing outside, leaning up against his car. Joey was the type that made the girls drool and he knew it. She walked over to him and held out her card.

"Here you go. My hours are listed on the back."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Joey smiled and walked around his car to get in.

Carrie rolled her eyes and walked back into the house.

***

"What are you doing Sunday afternoon?" Carrie asked, looking up at him, her eyes crinkled into a smile.

"We have practice at 6:00. Nothing before that." Keith said. He couldn't resist smiling back at her.

"Would you be interested in lunch out with me that day?" Carrie asked.

"Sure." Keith said hesitantly, looking down at the mail in his hand.

"Good! I know a great Italian restaurant. How about if I pick you up at 1:30?" Carrie ducked so he had to look at her again. Her eyes were teasing.

He took a deep breath around the butterflies that threatened to burst out of his stomach. "OK." He put his mail back in the mailbox and reached for her. She stepped forward into his embrace. He held her close and took another deep breath. Even through her hat, he could smell her. He released her. When she stepped back and looked up at him, he could see that her lashes were wet.

"See you Sunday," she said in a trembling voice. She turned away and walked home. Keith watched her every step and waved at her when she turned to look before going in.

Carrie and Keith 11

"Oh, all right" she closed her eyes and cleared her throat. "I was engaged to a guy named Rick. We didn't have the best relationship. We fought all the time and he... he hit me a few times." Keith felt his ire rise immediately. "But, I really loved him and I thought that eventually we would settle down, work everything out and live happily ever after.

"One night, we got in another argument. It was just like all of our other fights, so I can't even remember what it was about. Anyway, he... knocked me down and stormed out. I guess after that he went to a bar and got drunk because on the way home he got into a one-vehicle accident and was killed."

Carrie raised her soda can to her lips with a shaking hand. She took a sip and opened her eyes, but did not look at Keith. "I feel like it was my fault. If I would have backed down just once, he might still be alive." She kept her eyes on her soda can. "After therapy and help from Kim, I finally reconciled his death in my mind. But I still have this guilt thing going." She waved her hand around as if to explain her roiling emotions. She took another swallow of her soda and a deep breath. She turned to look at Keith. Here it comes, he thought.

"Your turn," she said.

Keith looked away. "My turn for what?"

Carrie sighed. "Come on. I spilled my guts. Now I want to hear about your wife."

Keith turned to look at her. He searched her face for a reason why he shouldn't tell her, but he couldn't find one. All that was there was softness, comfort, and compassion. If anyone might understand, she might. He rubbed his eyes and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. He felt Carrie's hand on his shoulder.

"OK," he said. "Vickie and I were married for a year and a half. We were out riding on my motorcycle when a truck pulled out in front of us. I tried to avoid it, but we hit it anyway. Vickie was thrown off the back of the bike and was killed as soon as she hit the street. The bike somehow landed on it's side with my leg under it. I lost some toes and have nerve damage in my lower leg and I have to wear a brace to walk. I figure it's my punishment for letting her die." Keith leaned back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. He was surprised that his voice hadn't cracked. He took a slow, deep breath. Carrie slid her arm though his and laid her head on his shoulder.

For a long time, they sat together in silence. Then, a knock came at the door shortly followed by the sound of someone coming in. Carrie quickly put a foot of space between them.

"Keith!" called a booming voice. Keith groaned.

"Living room!" Keith snapped.

"In a good mood as... Hey!" Joey stopped and smiled. "Who's this?" he asked as he seated himself next to Carrie. "I'm Joey Ruffalo," he said offering his hand.

Carrie took it and smiled. "Carrie O'Hearn." Keith felt the temperature of his blood rise angrily to boiling.

"Very pleased to meet you, Carrie." Joey purred.

Carrie nodded and smiled. She turned back to Keith.

"I need to go. Do you want me to help you straighten up?" He shook his head.

"Leaving so soon, sweetheart?" Joey asked. Keith felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up.

"I need to be at work at 6:30 tomorrow." she said as she stood up.

"Where do you work that you start so early? " Joey asked, all pity and concern.

"I'm a massage therapist. I have a client at 7:00. She said over her shoulder. She turned to look at Keith. "Thank you for everything." she said with a shy smile. "Good Night," she said to both of them and she left.

"Where did you find that little dish?" Joey asked.

Keith turned and looked at Joey. He wished he could shoot laser rays from his eyes and fry Joey where he sat.

"Damn, brother! Don't get all pissed off. I was only complimenting your good taste." Joey's smile was insincere at best.

"So help me god, Ruffalo, I will rip your lungs out if I ever find you playing with her. Got it?"

"You'd have to catch me first. And we both know that's not going to happen."

Keith gritted his teeth. "You'll have to sleep sometime. Is there a reason why you're here?"

"Yeah, actually, I left my work ID here last time we practiced." Joey stood up and headed for the basement.

Moments later, Joey called from the front door, "I found it. Don't worry, I'll show myself out."
Keith wanted to wring the mocking tone right out of Joey's throat.

He leaned his head back on the sofa. Despite the deep breaths he took, he couldn't get Carrie's scent out of his nose. He thought about what might have happened if Joey hadn't shown up.