I loved Rufus, I loved him, I didn’t want him to die. But when he was dead, I thought about it, thought about it—isn’t it funny? I didn’t know I’d thought about it as much as I have—and I wondered, I guess I still wonder, what would have happened if I’d taken him in my arms, if I’d held him, if I hadn’t been—afraid. I was afraid that he wouldn’t understand that it was—only love. Only love. But, oh, Lord, when he died, I thought that maybe I could have saved him if I’d just reached out that quarter of an inch between us on that bed, and held him.”
