agonized about leaving him. I knew I should just pick up and go, but I was hamstrung by guilt. Just as my career was taking off, his fortunes were taking a downturn. The backgammon mania was subsiding. It became clear that gambling would not provide him with an identity—or even a living—very much longer. All he’d ever been was a backgammon pro. A teacher at best; a hustler at worst. His entire image of himself was built around being pretty and having a fast, flashy lifestyle. His looks were going. His money was going. He was depressed. We spent long nights discussing his childhood, his past,
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