"Well, I guess I better go," I said, shifting in my seat. "Gotta stop by to see my moms, then figure out what I'm gonna do tonight."

"You goin' out?"

"I don't know...Doesn't seem like much point, really. Nothing but the same tired places to go to around here, with the same tired people in 'em. Still, I haven't been out in a while, so..." I shrugged and sighed, staring out the window at the clear late afternoon sky. "Maybe I'll drive down to DC for a change. I don't know."

"And here I am thinking I'm missin' somethin'," Andre scratched at the bandage holding the IV into his arm.

"Baby, you ain't missin' shit."

"Mr. Webster? Time for your meds." A tall male nurse entered the room, carrying a pair of tiny white paper cups on a faded orange tray.

"At least they gave me someone nice to look at while I'm up in here this time." Andre smiled at me.

"I hope he's not giving you-all too much trouble," I said to the nurse. Andre was right: He was kinda cute. In his twenties, I guessed, and the color of a Latte Grande, the nurse was tall enough that he'd had to bend slightly when he came in the door. But perhaps he was a little too 'swishy' for me, too 'obvious' or 'clock-able.' I'd been on a straight-looking, and -acting, brothas on the DL only tip' here of late when it came to the men in my life. This guy could have been a drag queen somewhere when he wasn't working at the hospital, I thought, inhaling his strong cologne as he passed me.

The nurse looked like the type of guy I used to go out with. If I had seen him in one of the clubs (...and had I seen him? I couldn't remember...) I would've thought he was attractive, but stayed away, imagining he had the word 'MISTAKE' tattooed all over his body, hidden under his clothes. Of course, as the hour got later, my objections would have evaporated faster than the ice in my glass and I might've said something to him, bought him a drink, asked him to dance, turned on the charm just to get into his pants. We might even have gone out a few times - depending on how good the sex was - then let the whole thing fizzle out. After some time not seeing him, perhaps we'd run into each other in a club and talk. Over the months that talk would spiral downward, first into a smile and a nod, then a wave, until eventually we wouldn't say anything to each other at all, just a quick dismissive, "Him? Oh yeah: Been there done that," if our friends happened to ask one about the other.

I shook myself awake. Jesus! Here I've met the guy, dated him, slept with him, and dumped him, all in the space of about two seconds. And I don't even know his name. This is horrible...

"Oh no, he's no trouble at all," the nurse had been saying. "When he starts acting up, we know to just pay it no mind and move on."

"That's how we have always handled him." I laughed. "My name's Eric, by the way, since this one's got no manners and doesn't know how to introduce people." I glared at Andre.

"Albert." He smiled sheepishly, then glanced away. Who knows, it might be fun...I shook my head and got up to look out the window. "I'm not being disrespectful, it's just that I want to keep him to myself," Andre said. Albert helped him to shift up in the bed, so that he was sitting almost upright to swallow the pills. "I know how you Watson's are, remember? You see somebody good looking and the next thing you know you-all are off banged up together someplace.

"And don't make me read you about that 'Mr. Webster' shit either," he turned on Albert. "I done told you I ain't writing no dictionary up in here. Call me 'Dre, damn it, just like everybody else. I may look like an old man, but I'm not. Makes me feel like I'm 200 years old, goddamned 'Mr. Webster,'" he muttered.

Albert and I glanced at each other and rolled our eyes. "You just can't treat nobody right, can you?" I asked Andre. "Always gotta be giving grief."

"What grief? Mr. Webster's my father, God help him, not me and never has been. And before too much longer I never will be, either."

"Don't' talk like that, baby..."

"Oh, please," Andre waved a thin hand. "Spare us both. We all know what's happening here. I'm dying, right? You know it, I know, and he knows it. It should be no big deal. I've had a good life, had lots of fun, but now it's time to pack my shit and move on. Why pretend that things are any different. And, since I am going, I should be treated the way I want to be treated, right? After all, you don't want my black ass haunting you, do you?"

"You're right about that. You were pain in the ass enough when you were up and well. As a ghost, you'd be a real motherfucker."

"Right! So --," he pointed albert, "'Dre', right?"

Albert nodded. "'Dre'. Do you need something else? More water or something?"

"No, I'm fine baby, thank you."

"See, now he's all sweetness and light." I shook my head.

"Nice meeting you." Albert grinned at me before he left. "Hope to see you again."

"Nice meeting you."

"Isn't he cute?" Andre asked before Albert had even left the room.

"Yeah, yeah," I tried to sound non-committal, but felt a familiar stirring between my legs. "He's so young, though! All these kids are so young nowadays. I feel like I should bring a box of Pampers with me every time I go out."

I looked over at Andre. He'd leaned back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. Perhaps his medication was beginning to take hold. His face was gaunt and sear, splattered with dark splotches from a malignant paintbrush. 'Dre's short brown hair was thin and graying, his skull almost visible beneath his skin. He could've been my grandfather's age rather than on of my contemporaries.

He opened his eyes slowly, like a lizard awakening from a sunbath, until they widened to their full extension, practically filling his face, as if nothing were left of him but his eyes. I knew his eyes were failing him, too, like so many other systems in his body. They opened wide to catch their last remaining sights before they went dark.

"How you doin', baby."

"I hate this shit. It makes me feel so awful. And I must look a fright."

"Nah...you're still beautiful." I walked over to the bed and held his hand.

"Liar...But I don't mind."

"You look like you need some rest and I really gotta go." I hesitated. Part of the reason why I'd come that day was to face this, to say this one ting to him and now I wasn't sure if I should or not. I looked into Andre's enormous eyes. In many ways, he really was still beautiful.

"You know...I always had the hots for you." Andre looked at me sideways. "I'm serious. How you looked, and the way you used to dance all night in the clubs...hell everybody wanted you. Why not me? I remember the second or third time I saw you, years and years ago. You were wearing a tight-ass pair of black jeans and a dark shirt, purple or some such color. We ran into each other in the street...not that far from here, actually, over on Rideout. You were going somewhere and I was headed home. You looked hot as shit and I thought, 'Damn...' But I couldn't say anything since I knew even then that you were living with Sherman and all. Maybe...maybe I shouldn't have said that...I'm sorry..." I looked down at the floor.

'Dre slapped my hand. "Now you up and tell me this? If I'd a known something five or six years ago, I woulda been all over you!"

"Oh don't tell me that. Now I'll be kicking myself for not coming onto you!" I laughed. "God, what am I saying - you were my cousin's boyfriend, for Christ's sake. He and my family woulda kicked my ass if we'd messed around."

"Neither Sherman nor your family didn't have to know, baby, you know that. Shit, I'm surprised when anybody in your family can keep their damn pants on for five continuous minutes at a time, as hot assed as you all are. Your father running around on Vickie 'till she kicked him out, your sisters and all their damned boyfriends, your brother always off god knows where creeping...and you too! And you and I both know you ain't no saint...Is there anybody in this town some member of your family hasn't slept with?"

"Well...New people are moving in all the time, you know. It's getting harder for us to keep up." We both laughed. "And we do kinda stop at close family members too, none of that incest shit."

"Yeah, but second cousins are fair game, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sorry I ever told you that, now. Jesus, it was only one time. We were kids for god's sake."

He help up a hand. "It's okay, it's okay. No one knows about that but you and William and me. Shit, as good-looking as he grew up to be, I woulda jumped him too...But the two of us? Your family wouldn'ta cared. They'd thought it was just 'faggots being faggots,' that's all. No big deal."

"Maybe that's one of the reasons I didn't want to do anything. I mean, we may want to, or think about it, but not all of us are out fucking everything that moves every night. Besides, I needed one or two friends I hadn't slept with, you know?"

I regretted what I'd said a second after it slipped out, but if Andre thought it was meant as some kind of judgement on him, he didn't act like it.

"At least I'll be seeing him again soon," Andre whispered. "That's a comfort. And to not have to deal with his damned family...present company excepted, of course."

"You know we all hated what Mary did to you when Sherman died, freezing you out like that, not letting you sit with them. Made it seem almost like there were two separate funerals."

"At least your mother didn't act like the rest of them. Give her my love, will you? And I appreciated you and Mike's sitting out there with me in the lobby like that. How is Mike, anyway? I'm surprised the two of you broke up. Now there's a fine looking man."

"Yeah, well...these things happen. He's a good guy, but I'm an idiot. I don't know how to handle being in a relationship with someone normal I guess. I need trauma in my life. No drama, no big scenes and I'm bored." And scared, I thought to myself. No one had ever gotten as close to me as Mike had, and I'd felt compelled to push him away.

Andre sighed. "You need to meet somebody. Or go back to Mike."

"He'd never have me back after the way I just kicked him to the curb."

"Humph. You'd be surprised." Andre wagged a finger at me.

"You'd know, wouldn't you? You and Sherman broke up for a whole year then got back together again."

"He thought he wanted someone...younger? Different? Humph - someone else. I let him play around with children for a while..."

"...While my family jumped on him to get married and settle down once they thought you were out of the picture..."

"...And I'm sure he had a good time. Until he realized he couldn't talk to them about anything. Or that all they wanted was the money they thought he had. He came crawling back. They always do. I let him beg for a while then took him. You men are all the same." Andre coughed. "Always looking for something else when you've already got something perfect. Never satisfied with what you have."

"And you were some kind of angel, huh? I know you weren't always faithful to Sherman either."

He put up a hand to stop me. "I'm not talking faithful if what you mean is sex. I'm talking about commitment. I'm talking about throwing your shit away just because some piece winked at you in the bar. Sex is something the two of you can work out if you try, even if one of you just truly can not keep your dick in your pants. Love is something different. You got to hang onto love tight when it hits you. Cause when it hits, it hits hard, and it's not easy to get over. You're not going to fall in love, I mean find someone who really loves you, very often. You gots to hang onto that, make it last, build on things together. Fuck the dumb shit."

I looked down at my watch. I really did have to go (...and what was Mike doing that night anyway...)

Andre leaned his head back onto the pillow again and yawned. "Shit, all this love and sex talk...as long as its been nice since I've had somebody, I don't think I'd remember what to do."

"It's just like riding a bicycle, baby. You never forget how to do it."

Andre slipped me a look. "Maybe you should lock that door and remind me..."

I laughed. "Child, you as crazy as ever. Let me get outta here. Now - your chocolate chip cookies are over here on the nightstand if you want more. But save room for dinner, aw'right?"

"Dinner? Ugh."

"Yeah, I know, I know. But try to eat it anyway. I...I wish there was something I could do for you."

"I told you what you could do - me! You think I'm kidding? I'm serious. I need some dick one last time...Okay, fine, then. Be that way. Get the fuck out, then. Just get out." We laughed. "Take care, baby."

"Take care. I leaned down and kissed Andre on the forehead. A sudden jolt went through me as my lips touched his skin. Wild thoughts began running through my head. I stood up straight. "I'll see you later, boo. I gotta go shopping..."

"Pick up something for me. Anything, I don't care."

"Don't worry, baby, it'll all be for you."

"Hmmm...I like that," Andre murmured softly, laying back into the pillow. "And if you do decide to fuck that boy, let me know. I want a stroke by stroke description. Since I'm not getting any anymore, at least let me imagine it..." I nodded and sent off in search of Albert. That description thing wasn't a bad idea either...

Albert snuck me back into the hospital at 11 p.m. The corridors were empty but for the low hum of machines. I went quickly to Andre's room, trying not to make too much noise with my bags. "I can give you maybe an hour," Albert whispered. "But no more." I took a deep breath. I wasn't sure I could do this, but it was too late to back out now. I pushed my way into the room.

I pulled my boom box CD player quietly from one bag and set up next to Andre's bed, choosing a compilation of Brazilian music from the selection of disks I'd brought with me and pressed 'Play.' The items from the other bag - rubber gloves, the still warm oil, cologne, a small container of cut-up fruit - I arranged on the table as well. I lit the vanilla scented candles, placing them around the room. I shrugged off my jacket and gently shook Andre awake.

"What's going on?"

"Shh..." I turned on the light over his bed. "I'm here with your present."

I sprinkled a few drops of Aramis on Andre's pillow. It had been Sherman's favorite cologne, and I wanted to surround him once again in the scent of his former love. Andre smiled and wiggled his head into the pillow. I opened the container of fruit.

Maybe I'm strange, but I find papaya incredibly sexy. Something about its firm but pliant texture, its exotic, delicious, not-too-sweet taste. I helped Andre up onto the bed and sat next to him slowly feeding him a few slices. I knew he wouldn't eat much, but wanted to fill his mouth with something other than hospital food. I'd cut most of the fruit up into tiny pieces, but left one a fairly good size, about three inches in length and width. When Andre seemed close to having had his fill, I picked up the final piece. Slowly tracing around his mouth with the slice, I wet his lips with juice. I eased the papaya between his lips, gently sliding it into and out of his mouth, hoping he would get the hint.

Andre looked at me with consternation. "You mean it's been so long you've forgotten how to do this?" I asked. After a moment's confusion, Andre's brow relaxed and he pursed his lips. He began to suck on the papaya slice in mock lasciviousness, licking around it, running his tongue up and down the slice, quickly ticking my fingers. He then took the whole thing in his mouth, slurping loudly and moaning. "Somehow I thought you'd be bigger, darling," he said, batting his eyes.

Chuckling, I got up and slowly unbuttoned my shirt, swaying to the samba unfurling from the CD player, playfully covering and revealing my bar chest like an exotic dancer. A slow smile played across Andre's face.

"My own Private Dancer! You Watson men..." He shook his head. Andre ran his hand across my bar torso, pausing to give my slight pre-middle age bulge a gentle squeeze. "You need to go to the gym, honey," he whispered.

I rolled my eyes, slapping at his hand. "Bitch! Only you would diss a motherfucking gift! Shut the hell up, I'm going back next week." I shook my head and slowly undid my jeans, casually letting them slip down to the floor.

Andre's eyes widened. He shook an admonishing finger. "Didn't your mama ever tell you to always wear underwear? He reached out for me. "Humph! I really woulda tried to have you if I'd known all-a this was here."

I tried to not burst into either laughter or tears, and bent down to pull my pants back up around my hips. "Okay, now you." I reached for Andre's sheet.

"NO!" Andre grabbed it tightly. "No. Please. No way..."

"No, baby, it's okay, it's okay," I kissed him lightly on the forehead and both cheeks. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Don't worry. Come on, let me see."

I eased the sheet from his hand and slowly pulled it back. I sighed in spite of imagining I had prepared myself for this. The flimsy hospital gown could not cover the fact that Andre's once beautiful body seemed to have been drained of fluids. He reminded me of photographs of African famine victims. His body appeared almost lost in the hospital bed, a dry black seed in the middle of the sheet's white husk. My voice was choked when I said, "You still got it goin' on, baby. Best looking man in town."

Andre began to cry. I wiped away his tears. "Hush...Hush...Let me do this, please. If you start to bawl, I'm never going to make it. You don't want both of us up in here gushing like schoolgirls, now do you?" I turned the music up.

I put on a pair of thing, royal purple gloves. I'd never seen surgical gloves in any color other than faded beige, but somehow Albert had come through. "He needs a little color, don't you think?" he'd said earlier that day when I'd told him about my plan. I picked up the small bottle of warm oils and started with his feet.

I felt very strange. All the years I'd thought of this, dreamed of seeing Andre naked, longed to put my hands on his smooth bare body. And here we were. And were not. Andre both was and wasn't there. Or rather he was still here, trapped inside a fading body. His wit, his beauty, the person I had wanted still glowed there, like a light coming from a deep inside a shell.

Moving the thin gown aside, I wanted to remember how he'd looked, to bring him back into his body. I wanted to remember how beautiful Andre's skin had been, just like polished mahogany. I want to re-member him with my hands, bring him back to life with a loving caress. Starting with his hammer-toed dancer's feet, I wanted to touch every part of his body, to remind him of the pleasures of a man's hands on him. Crazily, I thought - if I do this right, then his bones will strengthen. If I do this right, maybe he'll stop wasting away, he'll regain muscle, retain his food and liquids. I can repair his beat-up body, smooth away his cuts and bruises, the scars illness had lashed across his body. His lungs will clear, his color will return, all will be as it was before. I can bring him back, I thought, Please, God, let me bring him back. Change him back into the person I knew, the man my cousin loved, the vision we thought was just too sexy for words and all deeply cared for.

I worked without a sounds, except for the music and Andre's slow breathing, my silence a form of homage, a thing to be reckoned with. His skin inhaled the oils, drinking deeply. I moved inside the music in a subtle counter-rhythm to the bossa novas and boleros on the CD, gently working my way up his body, cupping his rough heels in the palms of my hands, slowly massaging his once strong calves and thighs. I tickled his 'outie' belly button, caressed his stomach, sunken chest, and extraordinarily large, dark nipples, then moved across his shoulders and down his withered arms, carefully avoiding his IV. I rubbed Andre's throat and neck, and lightly played my fingers across his cheeks and eyebrows. Running a quick hand through his thin hair and kissing his forehead, I whispered, "Still beautiful, baby, still hot." Again Andre began to cry. I quickly kissed his opening mouth before he could speak.

I oiled my hands again and moved to Andre's crotch. He opened his legs slightly, and I slipped between them, searching. Carefully I slid a finger between his ass cheeks, worrying the entrance to his hole. Andre moaned. I wrapped my other hand around his dick, and gently stroking his maleness. Andre sighed, reached his hand out for me. I moved closer to the bed, lowering my pants, and placed my warm cock into his hand. His first touch brought me to life.

Gently fingering his asshole, I again thought of how much I'd longed to do this years before, the thrill of imagining myself with someone so attractive, the electric jolt tasting the forbidden always sends through your body. I thought back to another dancer I'd had a brief affair with - how his strong legs would wrap around me in our bed like a vise. His ass had gripped me tightly, pulsing as we fucked, as if he were trying to suck the jism from me with his butt. He, too, had had a smooth sleek body, and I closed my eyes, remembering. Andre had closed his eyes as well. Sniffing at the cologne on his pillow, he began murmuring Sherman's name. Andre remained flaccid, but my dick grew to its full length and harness in Andre's hand, under the influence on my imagination and the memory of sweet afternoons spent with other men. We slowly stroked each other like ancient lovers, lost in our separate visions of the past.

"Huh uh uh..." Andre's hand slowed then stopped and he leaned back onto the bed. His breathing quickened and his head began to move from side to side. I continued fingering him, pushing in a bit deeper and pulling at his cock. Andre turned to look at me, running his eyes down my torso to my exposed crotch. "Beautiful, so beautiful," he whispered softly. Without a sound ejaculated into my hand.

I wiped up Andre's cum with a towel and rubbed oils onto his dick and ass again. I slowly covered him with the hospital gown, and pulled up the sheet and coverlet. Taking off the gloves, I moved to head of bed. Andre started to say something but I laid a finger across his lips.

"Shh...Get some rest." I gently ran my fingers over Andre's face, lightly brushing his hair until his enormous eyes closed and I could hear the soft purr of his sleep. I quietly packed everything up, wiping the water from my eyes as I left the room.

Two days later, the phone rang at exactly 3:13 a.m. I jumped, startled from the black bottomed pool of sleep I'd been swimming in. I stared at the insane thing screaming in the darkness, reached for it, and then stopped. I didn't need to hear what the person on the other end had to say. One look at the time told me all I needed to know.