Rusted Hearts

Chapter 10

***October 1981***

"On your lonesome tonight?" Huggy raised his eyebrow inquisitively when he slid my order onto the table with precision before sliding his lanky form into the seat opposite me with the same economic movements.

"Thanks Hug. Looks great." I eyed the tastefully presented plate of steak and salad and baked potato. "This new cook of yours is really impressive." My appreciation of the meal was genuine. Huggy had really picked up his game with the food in his bar over the past few years.

He eyed me critically and let out an exaggerated cough. "That's no cook in my back of house. The man is a bona fide chef and I got the pay slip copies to prove it. You know how much these chef dudes demand these days?"

"Oh?" I said, digging into the meal. "Is this your way of breaking it to me that Starsky and I'll be paying more for our meals here from now on?"

He rolled his eyes, pursed his lips. "Don't see how it'll affect you two – given that you haven't caught up on your tab since middle of '79." It was said as a joke of course – he wasn't thinking. Yet, both of us looked away from each other at the reference to that nightmarish time in '79.

I could see Huggy squirming under the gaffe and so moved the conversation on quickly. It was a track too worn out to keep going over and over – these days it was best to just move forward.

"Starsky's at some fundraiser benefit dinner for the Foundation tonight," I told him.

Huggy relaxed again, no doubt grateful to me for stepping forward. "Quite the socialite is he these days. Guest lecturer, board meetings, benefit dinners – what's next? Think our curly haired friend might run for Governor?"

I snorted at the mental picture. "Starsky in politics? Now there's a dangerous concept," I smiled. Secretly however the reference had me already pocketing away a small lust filled fantasy for another time. Starsky in a three-piece Italian suit in the back of some dark windowed limo, the driver partition up so that we were in total privacy. My dark haired politician was straddling me, pinning me beneath him in an act of dominance, pushing my face down into the buttery leather of the full-length seat as he pulled my battered jeans down and over my ass….

I snapped out of the reverie, and gave a small choked laugh, "I really can't see that ever happening. Champagne, canapés and bullshit platitudes are hardly Starsky's bag – but – he goes to these things because in his own way he wants to support the causes behind them. Actually, to be honest, he endures them – and only barely."

"I can see that," Huggy nodded. "He really believes in what he's doing – what the Foundation is doing. I've picked that up whenever he talks about his work."

"He does. And the same goes with the Academy job. He's carving out some new frontiers with the trainee rookies – and," I smiled contentedly at the realization that it was really true, " I think for the first time in such a damn long time he's really found himself again. Happy in his new professional skin."

"I've heard on the grapevine that he is Mr. Popularity with the young bloods – especially those from the wrong side of the tracks who've scored a break being accepted by the Academy."

"Absolutely," I nodded, feeling proud for my partner. "You know Starsky. He more than anyone knows what it's like to have to fight through adversity."

"Yeah. I know," Huggy said, "Looking out for the underdogs in this shit society." He gave me a knowing look. "A little like his partner."

"Me?" I gave a self-derisive laugh. "I hardly feel virtuous these days. Pushing paper and riding bureaucratic broncos isn't the same as being out there, hands on, with the people. Some days – just some days – I miss the ground root stuff."

"Anyone who knows you knows that virtuosity runs in your veins Blondie. It's doesn't matter what work you do, or how senior you are in your job. It's just in you." He leaned forward a little closer. "It's that part of you that I noticed a long time ago. You care about people – individuals. Real people."

How was it that I already knew where he was heading with this conversation? I felt uncomfortable, a little under the spotlight.

"Cut it out Hug – I only did what anyone would do for a friend in need. And she," I caught myself for not using her name, "Alice was certainly in need."

Huggy looked at me as though waiting for something more. I looked to either side of me and to the entrance and knew instantly what I was doing. It was as though I needed to make sure that Starsky wasn't going to suddenly materialize and spring us talking about how Huggy had helped me with Alice. Still, I kept my voice low. "Have you – have you heard from her? Heard how she's doing?"

There it was. The subject I think Huggy had been waiting to bring up but knew how touchy I was about the whole thing with Alice.

"When she first went in to that half way house she was a mess and stayed a mess from what I learned – for quite a time," Huggy said. "But seems things might be different now. Yesterday, one of the residents from the house came in here. By what he had to say Alice might be on the upward track."

"A resident? You mean another addict?" I sounded dubious.

"….Know what you're thinking, but this dude is pretty cleaned up. Still in the place only because he's got no place else to be."

"Sounds reliable," I said almost sarcastically, but in fact I felt relieved. I'd been worried that Huggy was going to be giving me even more bad news about her.

Huggy shrugged. "Either take my word or don't…it doesn't matter either way to me." He was affronted I knew, despite how casually he wanted to act.

"It was only a few weeks ago you told me that she was still relapsing, still managing to get a hit here and there…" I reasoned with him.

"True. But, people can change can't they?" he chewed on his inner cheek, looking frustrated with me.

"Yes – yes they can," I said. "Go on. What else did this – ah – resident, have to say about Alice?"

"Seems that Alice has met some man who's been helping to turn her around," Huggy answered.

"You mean like a counselor?"

"No – an ex addict – or recovering addict – whatever the correct term is these days," As he said it, another flash of acute discomfit flitting across his dark face. Certain subjects, like my up close and personal heroin encounter and Starsky's near death, taxed Huggy heavily. I respected that. I understood that. Memories, nightmares taxed me too.

"Huggy," I sighed, " if you're going to censor every reference to drug addiction for the rest of the time we are friends on this earth, then you're going to keep getting tripped up. It's past tense okay? Still I know that you don't want to offend me intentionally."

"Okay," he nodded, his expression relaxing again.

"So you were saying about this guy and Alice?"

"Yeah, seems he's some educated dude. What would you call him? An academic of sorts, I s'pose. Maybe he was, I don't know – a teacher or a professor? I'm not sure what he did before he got on the heavy stuff, but anyway - since he's been clean, he's been going around the half way drug shelters spinning his word and helping others. Alice has taken a liking to him so it seems. According to my source," he paused and gave me a half grin, "reliable source or not - Alice is getting into some study program. This guy is helping her to put the plan in action. He's like a – mentor sort of thing. It's giving her something to aim for. Some hope, I guess."

Something for Alice to aim for..

Alice, who had always dreamed of being something else. A teacher, a writer, or at the very least a college student. Something that defined her more than being a hooker defined her. And what of this stranger? This "educated" man was helping her to achieve this? Was he another one of Alice's Heathcliffs? Maybe he would be the one to save her, as I hadn't been able to.

I would like to think so.

"Well for her sake I hope it lasts. God knows Alice needs all the hope she can get. Have you got any more detail than that?" I asked, half caught up in my own complex weave of thoughts.

Huggy put on his contemplative face, looking as though he wanted to discuss a point I might not be prepared to talk about. "No, that's as much as I know. General stuff I guess. But I was thinking that it's good that she's got someone else, other than you Hutch, to focus on," he said, sounding like the sage Huggy that cropped up more often than not in our conversations.

I could have denied what he had left veiled beneath his overt statement. However, what would have been the point? "No sense in denying it. Alice was very attached to me," I agreed. "Or, rather to the idea she had of me in her head," I extended.

"Was?"

"Yes – was. And that's because – because I've told her that we need some distance for a while." I'd skirted around the truth. There was nowhere on the cards that I would ever see Alice again.

"I would say attached is an understatement," Huggy rolled his eyes as he made reference to Alice's push and pull toward me.

"I know that for sure," I sighed deeply. "I was worried I'd never get her to agree to go with the whole plan you helped work out with me for her."

"Well she stuck it out, but it wasn't easy for the support workers and other residents to get her to stay. I know she asked about you a lot in the first few weeks. I know for sure that in those first days in the home she did nothing but ask about you."

I put down my fork and pushed my plate away. My appetite had left the room at the first mention of Alice. "It's natural that she would talk about me."

"It was a bit more than just talk about you. A bit more than just ask after you Hutch," Huggy looked down at my abandoned meal, the statement hanging in the air.

I could tell that he was walking around something that he wanted to say, picking out his path carefully, fully aware that the whole area was still a minefield for me.

"Meaning what Huggy? What's this about? You know I appreciate what you did for me. Helping me find a slot for Alice in that community house, so quickly and at such short notice. I also know that you gave her a lot of your time when she first went in there – after – after I had to leave her there and get back to my real life." Because Starsky was coming home and I had to be there, waiting for him, longing to see him.

Leave so I could get back to my apartment and clean up the mess, the damage – all the little signs that Alice had been staying with me. A cop knows how to wipe all the evidence away, and I did a good job of leaving no trace of my embattled weekend with a heroin junkie.

"You ever been to the home to see her since you got her admitted?" Huggy cut me off, a challenging tilt to his head as he posed the question out of nowhere.

"You don't have to say anymore Hutch…. I went away before and I can do it again." The memory of Alice's soft voice came back to me.

"I'm not asking you to go away Alice." Hadn't I said that when she'd wanted me to be with her?

"I can always be your friend Alice…" I'd told her that too hadn't I?

False sentiment and an unspoken promise that I'd failed to keep, because she had gone away hadn't she? I'd made sure of that. I'd found a place for her to go to with Huggy's help, a place to hide her away on that very Monday afternoon before the Monday night when Starsky came back from San Francisco.

How could I stay being her friend when the continuation of that friendship could so easily risk my relationship with Starsky? How could I continue to see her while she was so emotionally brittle, so self-destructive? I'd wanted her well, wanted her to get clean and stop destroying herself, of course I had. Still, I couldn't be part of that continuing process of recovery once Starsky had come home that weekend from San Francisco. With Huggy's help and contacts I'd placed her in a refuge so that she was at least safe and cared for. After that I'd turned and walked away from her and left her alone.

"No," I finally answered Huggy's question. "But I think you know that already."

"You planning on seeing her anytime in the future?" he pushed.

"I don't know," I said, because I really didn't. All I know is that I hadn't. Huggy didn't seem satisfied with my answer.

"You don't think Starsky would understand?" Huggy probed.

It was my turn to give him a contemplative look.

Was Huggy asking me would Starsky understand the fact that I'd hidden from him that I'd helped Alice out in a time of need? Or was he asking would Starsky understand that I'd betrayed him by sleeping with another person while we were in a committed relationship? How much did Huggy really know about Alice and me? Had she told him about us? Confided in him in those early desperate hours when he might have sat with her, settling her into her new home after I had walked away and left alone?

If Huggy did know more than I'd told him, I realized I didn't want to have deal with it, so I avoided the actual question. "I don't want to have to expose him to all that shit again. Putting up with me after Forrest was more than enough for him."

After that I decided it was time to take my leave. Huggy's personal inspection of me was becoming too close and personal. If Huggy picked up on my abrupt closure of conversation and sudden decision to head home, he never let on. Still I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as his eyes followed me to the back door of his bar where I made my exit. On the drive home I kept hearing his question – "You don't think Starsky would understand?"

Would he?

It didn't matter. It wasn't an issue because at that moment back in July, when I'd lain with Alice in my bed and let her move me toward a slow, warm orgasm, I'd made up my mind that it was something that Starsky would never know about.

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***December 1981****

"Yo! You home yet?" Starsky's voice sailed through the front door.

"Yeah – in here," I called out, busy examining every shelf of the fridge in hope of turning up something remotely edible that I could throw together to make a simple meal for us. It was late; I was late home and Starsky even later. It was cold and I was tired and hungry and becoming irritable very fast.

"There's shit all to eat in this place. Wasn't it your turn to do the shopping yesterday?" I threw out at the body I could now sense behind me, still intent on bending forward to peer into the recesses of the bottom shelf.

"Sounds like someone is a little hot under the collar." Typical Starsky. Dodged the question by focusing on me. I felt a cold hand snake down the back of my collar and let out a yelp, jumping away from the fridge. "Starsky! Your hand is freakin' freezing!"

"I know that – it's cold out. That's why I need your hot body to warm it up."

"Get out of it," I pushed his hand away from my neck, determined to stay in my funk and not be amused by his play on words, though in all honesty he was already soothing my frayed mood.

"Who's a grumpy bear then?"

I tried hard not to smile at his cajoling. That baby tone he used to diffuse me always seemed to pull at my strings, not to mention some crucial parts of my anatomy. "I'm hungry and cold and..." I started to complain.

"My poor baby…."

"Oh shut up," I warned, but there was no bite in it. "That play is not going to work tonight. It's God damn nearly nine o'clock, I've had a God damn shit of a day and have come home to find there's not a God damn semi-decent thing in this place to eat."

"Well, God damn it!" the smart ass parodied me. "It's the same place you left this morning, so unless someone came to kindly restock our cupboards with food while we were both at work…."

"Which brings me back to the point that it was your turn to do the shopping yesterday," I humphed.

"I'll make it up to you by doing a super big buy up tomorrow. How about that?" Starsky beamed hopefully.

"Tomorrow is not now Starsky. One of us has to go back out in the cold and get some provisions – because I can tell you, I am not eating take-out one more time this month."

"Don't pout Blondie, it's not all that bad…"

"I'm not POUTING," I all but stamped my foot. Hell, maybe I was…

Starsky was trying hard to keep a straight face. That only riled me even more.

"So what's got you in such a good mood?" I asked him. "You're usually the one whining about no dinner and dying of starvation."

He had the decency to look sheepish.

"You've already eaten haven't you?" I demanded. "What? Another freebie work dinner out at some fine dining restaurant?"

"Well it wasn't that fine – but it was damn good," he said guiltily. "Sorry babe, I thought you might have already eaten too."

"And you didn't think to ring and tell me?"

"I did, but like you said, you were late home and I couldn't catch you anywhere," he mollified.

"Jesus – this job of yours has got more perks and frills than some corporate high flyer position. If I knew that police consultancy had such benefits I might have thought twice about getting my Lieutenancy." I knew that I sounded sulky and petulant.

"You want me to order you some take-out after all?" Starsky asked, indulging my sulk or maybe trying to get even more of a rise out of me than I was already displaying.

"No way! I'm sick of pizza and Chinese and every other fast food package crap. My body needs something fresh and natural – and hot."

"Fresh? Natural? And hot?" Starsky repeated – the words oozing out of his seductively pulled mouth. "Then why the hell didn't you say so? There's no reason for take-out. I've got all three ready to serve up to you right now – or just as long as it takes me to get that gorgeous body of yours naked." He was closing in on me rapidly as he said it.

I backed up against the fridge, sensual excitement flooding my loins, my earlier flash of moodiness slammed out of me in a wild rush as Starsky's ramming body shoved me hard against the door of the appliance. He had his hands around the back of me, padding my back and protecting it from the hard metal of the fridge, his deft fingers kneading my vertebral spaces, loosening up every part of me and making me weak in the knees. I thrust my hands inside his warm sports jacket to find the sharp edges of his hips and pulled them roughly against me a rutting jerk. It took him no time to settle his already hard cock against the protuberance of my own, moving his hardness up and down in a rhythmical grind.

"Someone's not so grumpy anymore. Not grumpy but, perhaps a little horny?" he purred against my ear. I felt his hand come down between our crotches to cup my blood filled fullness. "Hmnn…a lot more than a little horny," he said, before lifting my hand and running it along his own rigid length, so taut that his black dress pants were showing off every line of his swollen cock.

"Christ Starsk," I sucked through my teeth, trying to dampen down my surge of sexual heat, "let's get this between the sheets now. I don't want another quick kitchen fuck – we've already had enough of those this week. I need a slow burn tonight when I take you."

"But I thought you were impatient with hunger?" he teased me, running his finger around my mouth suggestively as he thrust against me. "I was going to give you a quick feed right now," he grunted, already pressing down on my shoulders to push me to my knees and unzipping his pants, his pelvic tilting increasing. "I've got your starter all ready," he teased out the words as my mouth was already salivating, opening wide for his glistening cock, "and later – oh shit…later, you can have your main meal."

My ravenous need for him took over as I leaned in to cram my mouth with the full salty flavor of him, tasting everything I'd been craving – fresh, natural and hot - searing hot Starsky. I fed for a long moment, sucking and licking, gorging on the feast of him.

I shuddered as I took a moment to pull back and look up at him. ""You know what you are don't you?"

"Tell me," he demanded, pulling on my hair roughly, his lips pressed tight with the effort of suppressing his sexual pleasure.

"You're pure sex on a stick," I growled deeply as I took him in whole.

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It was much later in the night that the magical mood of our sexual marathon was broken – at least for me anyway. Starsky was lying sideways on my stomach, his head skewed as he watched the late news on TV, while I laid back on the pillows, licking my fingers of the last morsel of a thoroughly decadent pile of buttery toast. "You know Starsk," I slurped a little on a buttery dollop, "you're amazing with what you can whip up in the kitchen. You make great butter with toast on it," I joked.

"Toast's gotta' be warm, and it's gotta' be oozing with butter," he drawled, his attention half on the flickering screen, half on me.

"Well it was definitely the latter," I said. "I just hope I don't have a coronary tomorrow from all that cholesterol blocking my arteries."

"Nah – " Starsky turned his head to look up at me, "you dislodged any blockages that might have been in your arteries during that last maneuver you pulled on me." His hand shot up sneakily to snatch at my sticky fingers and almost absently he took them into his own mouth, sucking and licking at the last of the creamy butter.

"Hey!" I laughed as he slobbered noisily on my ring finger and I tried to pull it back.

"These are my fingers," he insisted, holding onto them possessively. "The only one who gets to suck at any of your appendages is me, you get it?" he grinned up at me, his dark curls tangled, fanning out on the pale skin of my belly. "So did you enjoy your dinner?" he asked me, yawning a little as he tucked my damp hand beneath his chin, holding it there in place against his warm neck.

"Which part of it? My starter or my main – or my dessert of butter with some toast on it?" I said dreamily, sated in every fiber of my body.

"See? You got a three course dinner after all your bitchin' – more than I got to eat in fact. I only had a starter and an entrée."

"Not like the man I know and love to go without his sweets," I said.

"Knew I had to leave some room for my desserts for later on when I got home."

"Of course…" I jabbed him playfully in the back of his calf with my big toe. "So where did you go anyway? You never said." I ran my finger along his still naked chest, still warm from our vigorous sex romp.

"Some new bistro downtown. Sorta' casual but artsy. Your type of place in fact. Think they even served organic meal choices. Maybe we can try it out some time."

"You'd go back somewhere with organic food on the menu?" I pretended shock.

"For you babe, you know I'd sacrifice myself."

I gave a soft grunt and began to ease myself up. "Let me up you big oaf, I need to clean up, in more places than just between my sticky fingers."

In the bathroom I heard him re-arranging the bedclothes, plumping up the pillows and switching off the TV. Halfway through brushing my teeth he called out.

"Hey, nearly forgot to tell you," I heard him say over the noise of him pounding a pillow into submission.

"Tell me what?" I rinsed and brushed and only half paid attention, already feeling sleepy.

"I saw someone we haven't seen in ages tonight. Outside the bistro place. She was getting into a car with some guy and I spotted her the same time she saw me."

"Oh?" I was walking back into the bedroom, my mind and body already dreaming of the freshened up bed and some deep sleep. I was distracted and a little zonked from too much Starsky inside and outside of my body and my mind.

"Yeah," Starsky was walking toward the bathroom now himself and brushed his hand across my naked butt as he glided past me, "Sweet Alice."

I stopped in my tracks, literally stopped, as I was about to pull back the sheet. I turned toward him, but he had sauntered into the bathroom and I couldn't see him.

No way? He saw Alice? How in hell? What were the odds of him running into her?

I strived for calm. Walked over to the bathroom door. Tried to discern what he wasn't telling me with his words or his tone by looking at his body. I could read his body almost as well as the undercurrent of his words.

He looked – normal. There wasn't much to read or see but his usual relaxed pre-bed ritual.

"Sweet Alice? You saw her?"

"Yeah. Been a while hasn't it?" It was his turn to brush his teeth and I was frustrated by not getting his full attention.

"You talked?" It came out casual I hope, but my heart was accelerating with every beat. I felt that I might need to sit down. Instead I leaned against the doorjamb, trying to look like it was holding me up because I was so tired. It was holding me up all right, but not because I was tired.

"Uh –huh," he gurgled through the toothpaste froth. Surely he didn't have any agenda with me on this or he wouldn't be brushing his teeth like he was. As though this was any other mundane conversation we could have been having.

"And?" Such a small word that held a thousand questions. "You said she was with a man? A john?"

"No – not a john," he shook his head, "not from the way they were acting together. Seems to me that she might have got herself into some sort of real relationship. Friends – close friends. He was pretty much doting all over her – like she was – like she was special to him you know?"

"That's nice."

Christ, how inane did I sound?

"She sure doesn't look the same though. You should see her Hutch. You might not recognize her. She's so damn thin – like she's been on some starvation diet if you ask me. But still pretty, in that way that she was always pretty – sweetly so I guess, like her name."

"Yes," I agreed weakly. It was all I could get out.

Starsky had finished at the sink and stood up to flick the light off.

"You comin' to bed or goin' to keep yourself propped in the doorway all night?"

"Oh yeah – yeah…" I followed him woodenly back into the bedroom.

"So – what did you talk about?" I asked as though it didn't matter one way or the other if he didn't answer me. It mattered though. Mattered alot.

"Huh?" Starsky, already in bed had lost the trail of the conversation as he did whenever his head was nearing a pillow.

"You said that –that you talked – with Alice?" Now I sounded a little panicky. I was certain of it. But Starsky didn't seem to notice. Either that or he was a damn good actor.

"Oh," he said, collapsing onto the bed and groaning with pleasure at the comfort of the familiar mattress. "Not much. She had to go – with the guy. But she said that she was doing well. Got a part time job in a bookshop or something like that."

She had a job? Huggy's informant was right. She must have cleaned up her act.

"Then she tells me – and get this," Starsky said, "she's hoping to start some English Literature course in a few weeks time. A proper course – one that she can use to get her grades up for college. Seemed excited – real excited at doing that. Who'd have thought hey?"

"Thought what?" I asked.

"That Alice would turn out to be a bookworm type – for that sort of stuff? Literature studies?" Starsky sounded incredulous.

I could hear Alice in my head…. "Something isn't it? A hooker who claims to enjoy exploring nineteenth century literature."

"Why because she's a hooker?" I jumped at him unintentionally, defending the ghost of the woman who still lingered in this very bed.

Starsky, wide awake again, rolled toward me, raised himself on his elbow and flicked me with his finger indignantly. I could feel the small jolt of surprised shock in his body.

"Come on, you know that's not what I meant. I like Alice. But be practical Hutch, she is a hooker – or was… and not just a girl who makes some money on the side as one. So, it surprises me – the serious study thing."

"Sorry," I shouldn't have over-reacted like that. "I just felt a little defensive for her that's all."

Starsky relaxed back down again and stared up at the ceiling. "I mean, study for sure. But why not study something practical which would help her break free of being a hooker. English Literature? How's that goin' to get her off the streets? Man, that surprised me. Doesn't it surprise you?" He rolled over again and looked at me in question.

What could I say to that? The truth?

No – not really. That's Alice. Alice with her Brontes and her Heathcliffs. Alice and her quest for love and acceptance. The Alice who I know and the one that you don't Starsk, because it's a secret part of my life that I've never shared with you and I can't. Because in getting to know Alice like this, I've let you down, I've deceived you and what we have.

But of course I couldn't say any of that. I just wasn't prepared to hurt him like I was hurting, because of the guilt induced turmoil inside of me since July.

"You're right," is what I said instead. "I wouldn't have pegged Alice as being into that sort of thing." And having said it, I felt as though I'd somehow betrayed her by making such a false claim. Minimized her, made her less of a person than she really was and who most people, including Starsky, would ever know, or be interested in knowing.

"Anyway, it was interesting to see her out and about like that, in a different way. " Starsky stretched across the bed to turn off the one lamp still shining my bedside table. As he leaned over me to reach the light he grazed my jaw with his lips. "Besides the fact she looked so – thin and sickly – she looked happier than I can remember ever seeing her."

"Probably because she'd found a man she could be with – not just another customer," I suggested, though I sensed it was not the real reason.

"I don't think so. He seemed nice and all, but they were just friends. It was something else," he said his voice sounding thoughtful in the dark.

"Who knows? I always thought Alice was quite a complicated lady." Which I had come to realize was certainly the truth.

Starsky stretched and yawned again, already on the way to sleep. I was relieved that his sleep would put an end to the subject.

Just when I thought that he was out to it, he spoke again.

"Oh yeah – and she asked after you," he said, his voice definitely sleep laden. "Said to give you her love. Alice always did have – she had – she's got," – " he was mumbling, searching for the right tense – present or past or ongoing? Sadly for Alice, all of them were correct, "this thing for you."

I was never so glad for the dark and Starsky's propensity to crash into sleep on the last syllable of a spoken word. My face would have shown everything I was feeling and he would have seen it so clearly otherwise.

Starsky pressed his length up against me, as he drifted deeper into steady breathing.

A little desperately I gathered his familiar body and crushed him hard to my own, hard and long enough to have him grunt lightly in his sleep. I held on fast all the same and he quieted. I needed the imprint of his virile, strong body against mine. Needed to reassure myself that I still had him, but even more so at that moment, despite my shame at the truth of it – I needed to try to rid myself of the memory of Alice's frail body moving against mine.

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