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"An hour later, he was sitting in the chair, watching Susan sleep, sipping a beer. He had thought about calling Mother, but decided she probably didn't want to hear anything, assuming, as she always did, that no news was good news. His mind, now under control, reviewed the last hours. He didn't feel any shame about jacking off on her. He had been so tense, with her closeness, so overwhelmed, so excited. He remembered her revealing her own feelings as she pleaded for a drink. Wonder how true that was, he thought. The Doctor's words, "I'll call you at seven, Dan. By then, I'll be able to confirm that it's heroin, let you know if there's any venereal disease, though you understand the Aids problem, don't you? Right. Tomorrow around noon, I'll let you know if there appears to be anything like menengitis, that sort of thing. At that point, I can give you some more pills. All they are is a barbiturate that will let her deal with the withdrawal more easily. She can have a drink tomorrow, and. What is it?’ I crouched down by the chair he sat on, next to the kitchen table, and looked into his dark eyes, my hand on the back on the chair. When he spoke, it was low-pitched and deadly serious — ‘Do you know how many calories are in peanut butter?’ ••••• I stood in the shower, soaping my body, as I thought about Henry. He’d started laughing the second after he asked about the peanut butter, and patted my shoulder, practically in hysterics at how seriously I’d taken his joke. Okay, I know that it might seem that Henry had problems, but he didn’t — he just had an odd sense of humour — often amusing, just as often ridiculous. As I leant against the wall, I slipped on the soapy froth, and fell, letting out a scream. I fought to get my balance back, clinging on to the side, while the spray battered my face, as the door banged open and Henry sprinted in, his face scared. ‘What the — fuck — ‘ he quickly caught hold of my body in his arms as I fell towards the stone floor. ‘Damn —.
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