Chapter 2

           Bob’sbigarmswereclosedaroundtoholdmeinside,andIwassqueezedinthedarkbetweenBob’snewsweatingtitsthathangenormous,thewaywethinkofGod’sasbig. Goingaroundthechurchbasementfullofmen,eachnightwemet:thisisArt,thisisPaul,thisisBob;Bob’sbigshouldersmademethinkofthehorizon. Bob’sthickblondhairwaswhatyougetwhenhaircreamcallsitselfsculptingmousse,sothickandblondandthepartissostraight. 

           Hisarmswrappedaroundme,Bob’shandpalmsmyheadagainstthenewtitssproutedonhisbarrelchest. 

           "Itwillbealright,"Bobsays."Youcrynow." 

           Frommykneestomyforehead,IfeelchemicalreactionswithinBobburningfoodandoxygen. 

           "Maybetheygotitallearlyenough,"Bobsays."Maybeit’sjustseminoma.Withseminoma,youhavealmostahundredpercentsurvivalrate." 

           Bob’sshouldersinhalethemselvesupinalongdraw,thendrop,drop,dropinjerkingsobs.Drawthemselvesup.Drop,drop,drop. 

           I’vebeencominghereeveryweekfortwoyears,andeveryweekBobwrapshisarmsaroundme,andIcry. 

           "Youcry,"Bobsaysandinhalesandsob,sob,sobs."Goonnowandcry." 

           Thebigwetfacesettlesdownontopofmyhead,andIamlostinside.ThisiswhenI’dcry. Cryingisrightathandinthesmotheringdark,closedinsidesomeoneelse,whenyouseehoweverythingyoucaneveraccomplishwillendupastrash.