mine was staccato. We talked of the music, people, bars, and all the preface material of new acquaintance until our glasses were empty. He bought another round-Alan, his name was and suggested we move to a table. The gods were good to me . . . a party was leaving the little table in the dim-lit corner.

Alan led the way across the room-he was lithe like a cat. Tall and slim, he wove his way through the groups with delightful grace. He smiled again as he sat down, the light of the candles making little reflections in the blue eyes. He smiled easily now, and laughed in a way that bespoke sheer enjoyment, or was it relief? Our conversation warmed to personalities and as we came to know each other I realized he was here on a rebound. Tonight he'd been stood up. He told me of a year's romance which had cooled a month ago, then had picked up again a week before to a new start. A good romance too, but for all too frequent, violent and uncontrolled jealousies of his friend David. Tonight Dave hadn't even called though the first days of the new start had been idyllic.

Realization came to me that Alan had never, or at least not for a long time, loved David; rather, he unconsciously used Dave to fill a gap which would otherwise be loneliness. Habit, and uncertainty had prevented Alan from rebelling during David's unreasonable times. I found elation in knowing that Alan and I had no opinions or ideals at serious variance, and a consideration and trust of others that implied a good future for us together.

The evening was gone and in the early pre-dawn quiet I drove home. We'd talked of dinner Sunday at the beach, and planned a week ahead, a month ahead, and years ahead. I was among the living again.

Sunday afternoon passed slowly but eventually five came and it was time to phone Alan.

"Brad," he said, "I've got to tell you something." He paused, and in the moment I realized his voice held none of the jubilation of last night. "Dave called today he didn't stand me up last night. He told me days before he would be working, but I completely forgot. He's coming over tonight."

"Alan, you can't go back to him, not after last night!" I felt the hopeless desperation of a drowning man. "You know that in the few hours of last night we found something far more valuable than your relationship with Dave."

"Please Brad, don't make it difficult. Dave and I have been together a year now, and these last few days have been as good as the beginning. Try to understand, and file away last night as a wonderful memory."

"But Alan," I tried, not knowing what to say. He interrupted me. "I want you to meet him, Brad. Please be at Paul's bar about ten tonight. Say nothing about last night-I'll have to find a way to tell him about that myself." He hung up without waiting for a reply.

So here I am. In half an hour I'll have to be nice to a guy I could cheerfully hang, and look casually at someone I adore. Maybe another drink would make it easier-I motioned to Paul. He set up my highball, and pointed behind me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to face Alan.

Seeing him like this it was harder than I expected it would be to hide my desolation, but covering up as best I could I asked "You'll have the same I suppose, and what will Dave drink?"

"Nothing, Brad," he stepped forward and put his hands on my forearms, holding tightly. "He's not here. Ten minutes of his jealousy tonight was all I needed to realize that happiness is mine if I reach out for it. I'm reaching now, Brad."

Alan smiled, first with his eyes, then radiantly; I fought back little tears of ecstacy.

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