Jude would never make me think of a timetable or a bank account or a good job, whatever the fuck that means. He’d never make me think of any of the ugly things on dry land. Despite all that is not right with Jude, nothing I do with him is ever held up to the light for judgment. He never thinks I am odd or weird or poor or perverted or wrong. He’d never say, “You’re a real nut job.” I’d sit in his dirty laundry for days and he would understand. He would even bring me a cup of soup while I sat.
