I tell him what's going on in the
morning. "I'm so sorry," he says, with a concerned look.
And then he smiles at me. No,
no, you're not supposed to smile. And
I start babbling that I don't know what I'm gonna do without her, and he
kisses me mid babble. "You
still have me." And I
just look at him. But
without her, I won't have anyone to talk to about you.
Without her, it's just gonna be you and me.
And the quiet.
And I will go insane. I
know I will. Of course I
will. I'm not smart enough to figure out what I'm supposed to do
with you on my own. I'm in
the thick of it, I'm buffeted back and forth by I love you, I hate you
winds. Only somebody
outside of us, somebody with perspective, somebody who knows me,
somebody like ASHLEY, damn it, can observe our daily psychodramas and
offer sage if somewhat cynical advice.
You still have me.
I know that's what I have. It's