Those were good times, when they biked and enjoyed lazy afternoons at the ballpark watching their mediocre double A team. They’d met at a jazz conce...t and shared a heat that refused to fade. Outside, storm clouds gathered. She stared at the painting and a single tear escaped. He was coming home after seven months over there, but not with the warmth of life. Wine I strolled through the wine side. Soft classical music drifted from overhead speakers. Walking past the sample bar I overheard words. But I can't stop. I sometimes try tofight, but it only makes it worse. I have to do it.That wasn't enough for him. I started doing whatever he said withoutquestion. I filled his car with gas, ran errands for him, straight outgave him cash. Then he finally asked me to give him a hand job.I wasn't gay! I wouldn't do something like that! But I did before Ieven realized what I was doing. I even cleaned it up for him with myshirt."That was pretty good," he said. "But there was something. More

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