Heaven, Tony, Jillian, me; even the servants learn the
rules and play the game."
An ache that had begun when I entered
thickened and grew. "What rules, Troy? What game?" Laughing in a way that chilled my blood, he
rolled over, holding me still, rolled again and again
until we fell to the floor, and he ripped off my clothes
wildly, and his warm kisses soon turned hot. "I hope
we both made a baby," he cried when it was over, and
he turned away and began to pick up the pieces of my
torn garments. "I hope I didn't hurt you. I never want
to hurt you. But I'd like to leave behind something
real, made of my flesh and blood." Then, crushing me
to him, he began to sob--deep, harsh, terrible sobs. I held him, caressed him, kissed him a thousand
times before we both fell onto the bed and covered
ourselves from the harsh cold.
As I lay there beside him and heard him choke
back his sobs and Whatever anguish he suffered, I
realized Troy was far too complex for me ever to
understand. I'd just love him as he was, and maybe
one day when he woke up from a dreamless sleep he'd
smile before dawn and throughout the day thoughts of
dying young would be forgotten.
And I slept. From time to time I woke up
slightly, enough to feel air moving around me.
Enough to feel warm arms embracing me.
Then it was another day, and I was in my own
room and there was a note on my night table. A short
note from Troy.
I didn't like notes. I'd not known one yet that
came unposted that hadn't brought sad news. .