"He wasn't a junkie, well not til the end." stretching his legs out he cracks a few joints and rubs his legs. "We found out about a year after we got married. Jason went in for a routine physical for his new medical plan and they found it. I guess the chemicals he worked with and the old building his studio was in were the, the magic combo. Lung cancer." he was so straightforward about it all almost flippant some would say. But I guess when you have been there only you would know how to react.

I wish I could say I was a stronger man, I wish I could go back many times over the past hour and numb it out but there is nothing I can do but listen and face it. Stone cold sober and hearing it all, the good, the bad and the really, really down right ugly of his and Jason's life together. I stopped trying to back the tears off long ago and let them fall to my chest soaking my shirt. I don't even know why really truly and I did just sit there. Maybe because I owe him it, maybe because it makes my shit seem less important. Maybe it is the punishment I always figured I deserved but was to chicken shit to face. I needed this but he needed it more. That is why I sit there and listen.

"It got bad when he gave up. Third round was just to much. He went through two more rounds after that. They practically shoved the pills down his throat. Fucking greedy pigs." He isn't putting up the monotone voice, there is true anger there. "They knew it was the end but not a fucking one of them had the balls to tell him. They saw him as just another run of treatments, another pill to push."

After he bowed his head and went silent I was in a no mans land. I was red in the face mad for him. I was pissed at the world and pissed at myself. I had to swallow the self hatred though and reach into a place I knew nothing of. Compassion, caring about someone else and what course I may have played a part in, It is foreign to me. Comfort, what the hell do I know of that? What the hell can I do?

I reach over awkwardly and put my hand on his shoulder. It is a strange pat at first then slow circles. Then the brick wall of a shoulder pushes down and I have my legs pushed flat and his arms wrapped around my thighs as he softly cries into my lap.

A silent plea goes up to them. 'Karma is a bitch, I get it. But what now?'