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."
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