“I’ve been helping you, since then?” I ask. “What, like often?” He looks at me uncertainly but then shakes it away, familiar enough with my funny moments. “Two nights a week, wasn’t it. Sometimes three.” “Fuck.” It’s like an explosion in my guts. It is, I suppose, pride. For this guy, and for myself too. Totally alien feeling. Booze wouldn’t come close. Not even cocaine. “Thank you for letting me help you, man.”
