I guess so.”“You were both so in the zone...” Coach stopped his narrative. “Tony, this isn’t about the match or being tired. You need someone to talk to?” I stopped running and looked at him. We’d been chasing each other around for over two years now. We’d talked now and then, but never on an intimate level.“Thanks, Coach,” I said. “You’ve been a great support for my training and I haven’t been as appreciative as I should. But I can’t just talk about this right now. I need to go paint.”“You know what you need better than I do. Just know I’m here.”I wasn’t sure I wanted to open the door of the studio when got there. I hadn’t been in since we carried Kate out. I unlocked the door and pushed my way through the clothes. In the middle of the studio, our accountant, Penny, was sitting on the floor neatly stacking Kate’s torn sketches. Tears were running down her cheeks as she worked methodically, examining each piece and matching up torn portions before she put them in the stack. She. Somehow he found the strength to resist.All for her as he understood the self-loathing she would have felt the next morning.She thought about how he dropped everything to drive here when she called, just because she needed someone to talk to.And she would forever remember the feel of his arms around her.She lay in her bed, twisting, burning for him. All this time she felt his presence just down the hall, sleeping on her sofa. All she need do was walk down the hall to be with him. She hadn't even closed the bedroom door tonight. She always closed her door, every night, never failing. She often locked it once her children grew out of the toddler stage.After hours fighting herself, Helen found herself rising from bed to walk toward the hall. As she walked she felt her gown was soaked through and stripped if off over her head. She dropped it on the floor, but ignored the robe lying on the chair by the door.In the hall she found herself walking, bathed in the soft light of the moon.
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