When I was bigger people thought a certain way about me, now that I'm slimmer, people feel a certain way about me... Just can't win...! I feel that is why I 'am reminiscing so on our relationship, I never thought I would be this size, but still full of the same emotions after all these decades, with of course more wisdom!

Stan had another stroke the other day, scared another few pounds off me. The cigars, cigarettes, drinking, fast food and fast times are catching up and taking their pound of flesh literally from the both of us.

We dont like to bring up the past, good or bad, the two of us live within our lives.

Sometimes, I suppose, the heart likes to remember. I realize we are old men now, I have felt old at times before, but it is a reality now, especially with me forgetting things, slurred words at times, scaring Lucille, Stan others and myself.

The doctor said I could lose motor skills, movement and memories.

Take away everything else, but not my mind.

Lets remember some more, let us iron out things. I will write and remember for the both of us, Stanley. I wish you would allow me to. Even here I respect your wishes. Your wishes are mine.

I know and you know. That is all that counts, right Stanley?

That is something I had to learn. Go and let go, be and let be, especially when it came to Stan and coming to what were developing.

There was, or rather is a picture, however as the saying goes, a picture can say a thousand words, so can different people being together. Society will say and believe things, have their thoughts and imaginations, even Stan will disagree with what we are or aren't. I just leave it to him. Being with him is enough.

After that situation learning about Buster and what happened that night, Stan and I became like puppies or bouncing bunnies. All we wanted to do was spend time with one another, nonetheless it wouldnt "look right". Stanley and I had a understanding that even though we were starting to share life together in a way, we still had separate lives, wives, hobbies and responsibilities.

Everyone saw two fellas trading their activities with one another. Stan golfing, Ollie fishing, the two of us going to Catilina with our wives and they would be right.

They are right, especially with the pictures everyone saw how could they be wrong? However, there are pictures that they will never see, along with the ones engraved on the heart and mind between us.

I loved sharing the swimming pool with little Lois and Stan. It was as if one of our movies came to life and we were raising her together.

Stan wasn't the strongest swimmer or at least pretended not to be. He would have me "help" him in the pool, joking around, grabbing on me right in front of our wives, to the point where the girls stopped coming over the weekends and it was me, Stan and Lois most of time. Lois would leave early on Sunday, Stan and her would stay the entire weekend but Stan would stay into Monday sometimes. Imagine my shock when I opened the door one Monday and saw Mr. Keaton standing at my door.

He was dressed as if on some yachting holiday, in all whites, slicked hair and a face to match. Stan came a close distance behind me dripping wet from either the pool or shower. Somehow he had to find the smallest towel in the house that I even did not know I had possession. Both Buster and I heads turned to the gent, me staring daggers and tight face hoping to gain enough clairvoyance to Stan that he would run into another room. Buster slightly leaned to the side looking into the house with a sheepish smirk.

"Oh, Good afternoon, Buster!" Stan said with false innocence and a wave.

"Yes, it is..." Buster replied under his breath.

"Stan! Would you go somewhere with yourself?!" I snapped.

"Don't worry, Babe-bee, Its nothing I havent seen before." Answered Keaton.

I was about to reply to either Stan or Buster when the short comedian passed me and made his way into my home!

I was taken a back how Stan could just easily talk to Buster with the only thing between them was a damp towel, Busters outfit and light conversation. My house servant at the time caught on and asked if she could make lunch.

The three of us had a light lunch by the pool. I will admit it was uneasy for me to see the two of them together as if they were on a date. What about me? What about it being my home and it being our time?

After what seemed like years, Buster left only after a little over a hour or so. It took everything I had not to slam the door. Stan was dressed by now as I rushed passed him already smoking a cigarette, I went into my bedroom, slammed the door and went rooting through my nightstand for more.

I could hear Stan's slow footsteps, heavy with what sounded like a guilty resolution. I got up and turned away from him, sitting on the other side of my bed, facing the window. My eyes darted and blinked away and to him, only seeing is hands in his pockets and the floor.

"Babe-"

"It's my house, dammit!" I snapped. "Not the studio, not a restaurant on the boulevard, My home!"

"I agree, but what were we supposed to do? Shoo him away so he could run back and-"

I stood up with a stomp, not making even eye contact with him. It was admittedly the angriest I had ever been with him to date. I do not think I ever became more frustrated, I hated that.

"Babe, I don't know how or why he showed up here. I certainly didn't tell him to come over. I will talk to Buster later on and tell him to call or send word first before popping up anywhere. Other than that, you know we have different circles, the only thing that matters is the circle we are in together."

"I know, Stanley, but... My house...? I just wanted it to be between us. For our thoughts, hopes, dreams and family. At least the illusion of one... If I can not dream in my own home, where can I dream?"

I turned to Stan with tears in my eyes. He took the cigarette from my hanging hand, put it in the ash tray on the bed table behind my internally sobbing body, then he dropped his face and torso into my frame.

I could feel him breath in and out maybe trying to give our souls resuscitation. My arms naturally wrapped around Stan life a leaf growing on a branch. His hands caressed me. Our faces met in saddened smiles. I realized that he felt the same without saying anything. That is the beauty of what we had and still have.

Stan started to kiss my lips with both of us standing in the window. I tried talking but was drowned out in the kidnapping of his mouth on mine. Stan embraced me like a vice leaving only my eyes and one arm free to take care of the curtains and window.

As I was closing the thin curtain, I saw Keaton in his car, across the street. For the quickest yet slowest moment our faces met as Stan's lips let go of mine and went into my neck with his syphon kisses and hands under my shirt. After closing the curtain my hand went onto Stan's shoulder then down his arm trying to cool the mans wants, then suddenly, we both heard heavy honking, what sounded like banging and slight angry, muffled yelling. Stan and I paused, looked at one another and listened. We heard nothing within the few seconds or minute of pause.

I woke up to a dim lit room, it was late afternoon, going into evening. My eyes opened to the back of Stan's head and shoulders. I snuggled up to the back of him, rubbing at his shoulder and kissing the lower part of the back of his neck. Just then I realized it must of been Buster having a fit in his car. I shook Stan awake and told him of my fears. Stan yawned out it didnt matter what Buster saw or did not see and that he didnt care, but we had better be more careful other places. In our homes, we belonged to one another, come what may.

I dont know if you can understand, receiver. It is not that it was purely sexual, lustful or even passionate, it was, it is just a need to be with one another. All we did that afternoon was embrace, kiss and lay down. Would it be strange to say a physical and emotional understanding? Our relationship really is not sexual, even though, well... It happened in moments.

Most of my understanding is that I just cannot understand what we feel, what we are, we just are. The other part is that, well, Stan wont let me say. I think he feels if it were to be said it would be like a curse. Not because we are two men, but because the both of us haven't had luck when uttered.