Live from New York, It's Saturday Night; a stalker gets her just deserts; and an ending is brought out from the beginning.

I woke up with her in my arms. A smile spread over my face as I thought about the events of last night. I wouldn't even allow the foreboding I felt to ruin my mood.

I watched the sun slowly rise over Central Park. It was a perfect moment that I knew couldn't last.

My phone rang, and Gretchen stirred in her sleep. She opened her eyes and looked up at me. In a sleepy voice she said, "you going to get that?"

I laughed and reached across her to get my phone. It was the Desdemona ring tone. I lay half on top of her as I answered the phone, and she put her arms around me.

"This is Desdemona."

"Desi, glad I caught you before you left for the studio."

"What can I do for you, Richard?"

"Nothing, at least not right now. Just wanted to check in with you."

"So, were you able to get in touch with anyone?"

"About?"

"You know what it's about. Why are you playing these games?"

"I'm not playing any games, Desi."

"Ok, it's good to hear from you, Richard."

I hung up the phone and started dialing Richard's number.

"What's going on, Keith?"

I held my finger up, as if asking for a moment, and listened to the phone ring. It went to voicemail so I called again.

Richard picked up after the third ring this time. "Hello?" a woman's voice answered the phone.

"Could I speak to Richard please?"

There was a noisy yawn on the other end of the phone. "Hello?"

"Richard, I take it you didn't just call me."

"No, I didn't. What's going on?"

"Crap. That explains why I couldn't recognize it wasn't Gretchen before. Richard, I think the stalker just called my phone trying to determine where I was."

"Why would she do that unless. . .Stay where you are, Keith. I'm going to hire a bodyguard and send him over to your hotel."

"How will I know he's from you? We don't know what this psycho looks like, after all."

"Good point. Ok, do you remember the name of Gretchen's first teddy bear?"

As far as I knew, Gretchen had never owned a teddy bear. What was he. . .and then it dawned on me.

"Yes, I remember."

"You're sure? Really sure?"

"This would be the one that saved her life by taking a knife to the stuffing?"

"Graphic way of saying it, but yes. That teddy bear."

"Ok."

"The guard will say that he was sent by the bear."

"Got it." I thought for a couple of moments before I continued. "Richard. It wasn't me you were talking with unless I end a phone conversation with the word Kisses. If I ever end with Hugs, then know I'm in real trouble."

"Got it, but why the. . .girly. . .closings?"

"Cause no one would suspect that as a safe word."

"Good thought. Oh, before I let you go, I contacted Juilliard yesterday. You will need to fly back in two weeks for an audition. They have to set some stuff up first, and they want you to be fully prepared. They'd like you to bring some compositions as well, since they'd like to see what you can do there."

"Thanks for that, Richard. Kisses."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone.

"Keith?"

"Yes, Etch?'

"My one true love."

"Yes, dearest?"

"No, that's my safe word. I will use it at the beginning."

I smiled at her. "I can get used to that, I think."

She wrapped her arms around me, and lay her head on my chest. I called my Dad.

"Frankie's phone."

"Dad, It's Keith. I'm going to be a bit late coming in today. Something came up, and I just need a little time."

"Rhodie isn't going to appreciate it."

"He'll live. I'll tell you all about it when I arrive."

After hanging up this time, Gretchen looked at me with a gleam in her eye. "So, what are we going to do now?"

"No idea. . ."

She kissed me full on the lips. I felt her reaching for my waist and pushed her up. "Wait, honey.. Not this way."

"But last night you made me feel so loved, that I needed. . ."

"You don't need to do this, Etch. I know you love me."

"I need to show you. I need to. If I can't show you then you'll never know how much that I love you. I know you'll like it. I've never gotten a complaint before. . ."

I just held her to me and didn't say a word. It was probably the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. She cried into my shoulder, and I held her.

"Am I that repulsive to you?"

"Never."

"Then why won't you let me do this? If we both want it, what's the harm? I can't lose you. Not now. Not after last night. I need to show you how much I appreciate you."

"You already do, Gretchen."

"But I was a bitch to you for so many years."

"You were never a bitch to me, Etch. Never. You may have ignored me while we were at school, but that was about the worst of it. You never pushed me away after school."

"But. . ."

"No buts, Etch." I began to kiss her deeply, to show how I felt about her, when there was a knock on the door.

I went to answer it. "Hello?"

"Larry sent me up here." A feminine voice answered me, but the name was right so I figured it must be the bodyguard.

I opened the door and in breezed a very pretty woman. I quickly shut the door behind her. When she caught sight of me she stopped and turned to leave. "I don't do harem attendant. Sorry for the mix-up."

"Wait, what?"

"I was told I would be the bodyguard for a female rock star. If you're the boyfriend, then I won't be taking this job."

"Wait, hold a minute. I'm the female rock star."

She looked at me with a little smile. "Sorry, but even with the hair there's no way anyone would be fooled by that body."

"Gretchen, could you explain to this person what's going on while I get ready to go?"

I had never had anyone push my buttons the way this chick just had. Who did she think she was? She was hired to protect me, and all I wanted to do was kill her.

I knew that the SNL crew would be doing my makeup between each of the sketches, so I felt that it would be a good opportunity to go all out right now. I attached the girls, put on my favorite black lace with pink satin bra, and went to town.

She wanted a rock star did she? I'd damn well give her one.

Stage makeup is a wonderful thing. But it over emphasizes in order to be seen without magnification. What I did could have been seen from space.

It wasn't the depth, it was the size: First, a white powdery looking base, than I put a circle on my face that crossed my eyes, at the top, and my lips, at the bottom. Down across my chin I put a vertical line that continued to my collar bone. Then, in the center of my neck I put the cross bar. I would have applied it all the way to the back of my neck, but my artistic skills aren't all that great when I can't see what I am doing.

I blended in the girls to my chest, and went out to the main room. I had no idea what I was going to wear with this, but it made me feel better.

"That's one of the more ridiculous things I think I've ever seen." Bodyguard chick was still trying to get on my nerves. "What happened to the guy who was going to get ready? He didn't get a quickie in there while we were waiting did he?"

"Are you blind or stupid?" I couldn't take this anymore, "There is a very real threat against me right now, and so my manager thought to hire you. Before you got here, I thought it was a good idea. Now, I can see that I was mistaken. We'll just have to do without today, and I hope nothing bad happens.."

"Oh my. . .Desdemona is a guy?" The woman just started laughing.

"What?"

"Keith, look how you're standing?" Gretchen was smiling at me.

I was standing with one hip thrust out a bit, and my hand resting on it. It was something I'd never do as Keith, but it felt right to me as Desdemona.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Let's start over. I'm Rachel and I've been assigned to be your Friend-i-guard."

"What in the heck is a Friend-i-guard?"

"It's a simple idea, really. We add a 'one more' to your group. Just one more girl, or just one more guy. We're trained, however, to protect you. Don't expect me to wear anything like that, though. And the makeup. . ."

"All I've done is my makeup. I was heading to get my clothing when you stopped me." I stuck out my tongue and headed into the bedroom. I shut the door while I tucked everything well away, and then grabbed a short sheath dress from Gretchen's side of the closet. I had to remove my bra, since it was strapless, but the dress itself seemed to hold me in place well enough. I went with a pair of stiletto heels, pink of course, and called myself ready.

"Well, you'll definitely stand out in that."

Instead of speaking, Gretchen just came over and gave me a hug. I gave her a quick kiss and let her finish getting ready. The three of us headed out the door after that and headed down to the limo waiting for us by the curb.

I had barely gotten settled into the seat when we were stopping and all three of us were getting out. The roar of the crowd was immense. There wasn't enough room for more than a couple of hundred people, but in the confined space in front of Rockefeller Plaza, they felt like they were more. I signed arms and legs, a breast or two, and a pink pump. I wondered how many people would start wearing pink shoes because of me. #82 was the shoe, and I got all the way to #86 before I was done.

I felt a bit like a princess.

"Etch, I need a piece of paper, now."

The words were pouring into my head, and I simply lost track of what else I was doing. Gretchen guided me into the elevator and then to a quiet room while I continued to write. As I wrote, the bits became pieces, which became phrases and stanzas. I had a new song. I began to write the accompaniment. I hadn't tried to write every piece before, but figured that this time would be different. Usually, I figured that a piece of music was more organic. It was jazz no matter what form it took. I had some idea of how the song would go, but I let the other two musicians find their own place in the song.

This song was different. I knew exactly how the song needed to sound, so I wrote the bass line, and the percussion, to fit that sound. I could hear the entire piece in my mind and it flowed out onto the page.

I read through it when I finished, and almost crumpled the whole mess into a ball before Davey saved it.

"What's this?"

"Nothing. Give that here."

"Love the makeup, Boss-lady."

"Yeah, seconded. Oh, is that a new song?"

I began to blush. "Give that here, Davey."

"Not until we give it one try on stage."

I hung my head and said, "Ok, let's get this over with."

We went up on stage and grabbed our instruments. I let Davey and Guthrie work through what I'd written a couple of times, and my embarrassment left me. I played my part with them, at the speed Davey set for us on his drums. We played through the song a couple of times, and then we began again.

I sang the words, and suddenly we had people converging from every corner of the studio. I let myself get into it and started to smile. I threw intentionally exaggerated dance moves, hamming it up and underscoring the satire tone of the piece. Sure, it was a pop beat, and mostly pop words, but it was still Desdemona.

With the last repeat of "Daddy's Little Princess" we drew the song to a close and I bowed to the audience to cheers and whistles.

Mr. Coolidge rushed up to me a bit frantic. "That song isn't on the approved list that was sent over to us by your manager."

"That's 'cause I just wrote it."

He goggled at me. "You just wrote that? And practiced it for the first time just now?"

"Yep," I said with a smile.

A light went on behind his eyes. "Well, get your manager to register that song so you can play it on the show."

"Wait, I didn't. . ." but it was too late for me to do anything. Rhodie had already run off to wherever he hid while the rest of his crew was doing the real work.

I gave Richard a call. He answered right away this time.

"Hey, Desi. So, how did the bodyguard work out?"

"She was not what I expected."

"She'll be able to protect you, don't worry about that. She's a qualified instructor in unarmed combat for the police academy in New York, as well as proficient in over forty small arms."

"Good to know, but that's not why I called. I have a new song, and Rhodie Coolidge wants me to have it registered with ASCAP before we perform it tonight."

"Usually it takes time. . ."

"Look, then you call him and tell him no. He wouldn't accept that as an answer from me."

"Desi, I know Rhodie personally. Another frat buddy. If he says he wants you to perform something, it is because he likes it. Him liking it means something, as he is a bit of a music snob."

"Okay. . ."

"Fax me the music, and I'll do what I can. Tell him you'll do it last, which will give me about fourteen hours to get it registered."

"Okay, Richard. I hope you know what you're doing. Kisses."

I went off in search of Rhodie, and found him in, of all places, his office.

"Mr. Coolidge?"'

"Yes, Desdemona?"

"Richard says that he wants until the last musical number of the night to make sure he has enough time to get it registered."

"You got it. Now, you're needed in wardrobe so that they can get you ready for the show."

Have you ever spent so much time worrying about something, and planning for something, and working toward something, that when that something finally arrives, it is sort of anti-climactic?

It felt as though I had been building up to this one moment on SNL for months, and yet, when I got there, everything just happened.

The dress went over without a hitch, and contrary to superstition, so did the show. They had me up there a number of times, with most of the sketches built around the punch-line "But I'm only sixteen."

I could tell that the audience was getting a little tired of it, so for my last appearance, a night-club-gig gag, I changed it up on the actor opposite me.

"Shouldn't be a problem to let you in, I just need to see your ID."

And of course, the sketch was supposed to just end there with the punch-line, you get the idea.

"Well, can't you just let me in? I'm playing with the band."

The actor glared at me, but the audience perked up. I think they noticed something was off.

"It's not like you're sixteen or something." The actor really tried, bless his heart, but I wasn't stopping.

"Well, my birthday is next week, so technically. . ."

"Your twenty-first birthday?" Finally, he got it.

"That would be next week. . .and another four years."

"Wait so, in four years and a week you'll be twenty-one?"

"Exactly, so can I get in the club?"

"Just as soon as I see your ID."

"Great!" I gave him my ID and walked past while he was looking at it.

Then, he looked at the camera and deadpanned, "Who knew? She's only sixteen."

The audience started laughing for the first time in about half an hour. See, that's the thing about humor. Even when you're expecting something, the delivery is everything.

I mean, every once in a while a chicken crossing the road actually is funny.

The rest of the show was fine, I got to play "Black Flag" and "My Life With You is Hell". Swearing on national television is a big rush, but I'm sure they bleeped me out.

Then we were down to the last song of the evening.

Owen got back up on the stage after his final sketch. "Here, one last time, with a song written this morning and performed here for the first time anywhere. . .I give you Desdemona singing 'Daddy's Little Princess'."

The opening chords were all pop. Heavy on the 12-String melody, with some bass guitar and percussion to fill in the holes.

It also had a pop sort of tempo to it. I could imagine Miley Cyrus or Taylor Swift happy with a song like that.

Then, for a moment, we paused. I smiled and used the first words of the song. They were sung without any accompaniment at all. Just me to a silent hall.

I'm Daddy's Little Princess, acting up the part,
I've got him round my finger, I'm the center of his heart.
Daddy loves his baby, wants to keep me from all harm!

I paused for a moment, and then smirked at the audience.

What Daddy don't know. . . I said.

Then we cranked up the speed, and let loose our metal souls. You could still hear the Pop theme running through it. The hard rock beat seemed to give it. . .soul.

I sang about sneaking out to dances, and spending time with boys. I sang about going to parties and staying out late at night.

Then, as all frenetic lifestyles do, that portion of the song came to an abrupt halt with a primal scream from me and the lights shutting off.

A single spot shone on me, and I started with only a soft beat from the bass drum. I sang about heart break, and loss of innocence. The bass guitar joined in and I sang about a hope that I could go back and regain what I thought I'd lost: The love of my Daddy.

I put my hands to the strings as if to add the lead guitar to the song. I looked directly into the spot and the music stopped again.

I love you Daddy.

We started back in, and ran a slower, and sadder version from the very first. It was pop, but it was a ballad.

I sang about redemption and forgiveness. I sang about going home again.

I sang about knowing that someday I would make my Daddy happy with my decisions.

Then, we brought the stage lights up, and we added some speed and strength to it.

I sang about finding the one, and true love. I sang about getting married to a wonderful man.

At the very end I sang about standing with my own Daddy, as I watched my husband holding our daughter, knowing she would be Daddy's Little Princess.

It was another song written for Gretchen, and like "My Life With You is Hell", I felt that it was one of my best works.

The audience loved it. "Thank you, New York. You're great!"

There were some chuckles at this and a call or two of, "Desdemona, I love you!" and we walked off the stage.

Then I got together with Rachel and Gretchen and we headed downstairs to brave the crowd.

After a few more autographs, I was able to get into the limo, and the other two quickly joined me.

We got out at the hotel, and there were even more people here. We slipped in past the throng and got into the elevator without any further delays.

"What is going on? I've never had this big a crowd following me."

"Looks like fame has finally caught up with you." Rachel was smiling at me, but I saw a hint of worry in her eyes. I figured it was just professional paranoia and thought nothing more of it for the moment.

The elevator door opened onto a deserted hallway and we went to our room. There was someone sitting in the main room when we got there.

"Finally. I was beginning to think that you weren't going to come." The girl sitting on the couch smiled at us and crossed her legs.

"Who are you?" Rachel asked her.

"Why, the agency sent me. They thought that one just wasn't enough for Desdemona."

"Which agency was that?" Rachel asked.

"Why are you asking me? You know which agency."

"I want to make sure, since they told me that I'd get these two solo." She gave a pout and put her hand on my arm, "and it's been so long since I got two all to myself."

"The escort agency thought that you needed some backup for your first threesome in so long."

Ok, and things were going so well too.

It was then that I noticed that Gretchen was paralyzed in fear. I walked over to her, turning my back to the person on the couch for a moment. Gretchen was staring wide eyed at the girl.

"Etch?"

"It's him. It's the stalker."

I heard a quiet pop and Rachel collapsed to the ground.

Spinning around I looked toward the stalker who was pointing a gun in my direction.

"It's always such a waste putting a bullet in a hooker, but I can't have her sullying your reputation, Desdemona."

I looked over at Rachel. She was curled around her middle with her back toward the couch. I expected to see more blood from a gunshot wound. Why wasn't there any blood?

"So, I can't very well keep calling you Stalker, so what do you want to be called?"

"So calm and collected, Desdemona. You're everything I could have ever dreamed for in a soul mate. It's so sad that our relationship will be so short lived."

"Why is that?"

"Well, because you will not be able to live through it. No one ever has. . ."

My phone began to ring. I answered it before the freak could say anything about it.

"Desi, my phone has been ringing off the hook since the end of SNL. Everyone wants a copy of that new song of yours. Something in it seems to have sparked recognition in a lot of people."

The stalker motioned at me to get off the phone.

"That's great, Mr. Fields. It's a little late here, though."

"I know what you mean, Desdemona. We'll talk later. Hugs?"

"Hugs." And I hung up the phone.

I knew he'd picked up on the situation, and now I just had to keep us alive and in this room until the authorities could come to the rescue.

"That was perfect acting, Desdemona. Just perfect." The stalker beamed a smile at me. "You can call me Lady Anne." Lady Anne stood up and pointed the gun in our direction. "I suggest that we move this to the bedroom. It's a more conducive atmosphere to what I have in mind."

I took Gretchen in my arms, and the two of us walked toward the bedroom.

"Hey, Lady."

We turned in enough time to see Rachel disarming Lady Anne and taking her to the ground.

"Call the police."

"They should already be on the way." I replied to Rachel's request. "Duress words are a great thing."

"So much more than a pretty face, aren't you, Desdemona."

Gretchen walked over to the person on the ground and spit in her face. "Desdemona is mine. She always has been. Keith is mine because he gave himself to me, and I am his. There is no you between us."

Lady Anne smirked up at Gretchen. "There will be, little girl. I will be there forever more, now. When you are lying in your bed with her. When she holds you in her arms. You'll be able to hear my voice, and feel my eyes watching you."

"Bitch, you're not going to be looking at anything except for concrete walls." Rachel pushed her back to the ground while I guided Gretchen over to the couch.

I sat in the spot where she had been sitting, and held Gretchen next to me.

"The more you follow me, Miss Anne, the more of you I own. I am the one who is filling your thoughts and forcing your actions. You are a puppet to your own obsession, and I hold all the strings. You hoped to cut them here tonight, but only got wound up in them more tightly."

I got up so that I knew she saw me when I said the next statement. "I OWN YOU, and from this moment on, you know it."

I felt Gretchen sit up next to me, and looked at her. She had a determined look on her face.

"Miss Anne, you are no longer the owner of your destiny. You called yourself a Lady, and hoped to rule over us. You have been brought low, and made our servant. Go from us now and never let us catch sight of you again." Etch had supported me with her own version of my words. They were her words as well, though.

I could see the anger kindle in Anne's eyes.

"Does the slave have something she wishes to say?"

Rachel looked at me, as if to suggest that I'd gone too far, so I directed my next statement to her. "This thing has killed at least one person that I know of. She was planning on killing Gretchen and me today. Pissing her off is not going to change that, nor will it make the situation worse."

I turned back to Anne. "It will, however, let it know that we will not tolerate it's presence. It will respect our wishes and realize that the simple pleasures of hunting us have come to an end. It may think it will get free and follow us for the rest of its life, but it would be wrong in that assumption."

For a moment, I felt myself being pushed in a direction I would not go, and the moment passed. Gretchen, Rachel, and I sat and watched Anne for the next five minutes until the police arrived.

They took our statements, retrieved the gun and took Rachel's bullet proof vest. They also took Anne away in handcuffs, planning on charging her with at least attempted murder and unlawful detainment.

Rachel made no move to leave with them.

"Isn't your job done?"

"Not hardly. Just because I saved you from one threat, doesn't mean that all threats are gone."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean. . ."

"Look, Keith, let me explain something. Yes, I am a hard ass. I do things to keep my principal safe. Sometimes that requires I not be friendly with said person.

"That said, I like you. You've got backbone, and you are hella talented. I'd like to stick with this assignment, if you don't mind. It could be fun."

"But won't people know. . ."

"If by people you mean the bad guys, and by bad guys you mean Anne, yes, Anne now knows that I am your bodyguard, so she is less likely to shoot me in the chest next time. That being said, if Anne ever gets out of police custody then I'm making sure you have a full presidential detail next time. If I'd known. . ."

"If we'd known, I'm sure that we'd have had one this time."

"Point taken. Sorry. Let me run your security, Keith. Let me pretend to be your friend for the cameras."

"Sorry, can't do it, Rachel."

"Oh, ok. Well I'll have someone else. . ."

"No, you misunderstand. I don't have pretend friends. If you're going to be my friend, then be my friend. None of this just for the cameras."

"If I'm your friend, then you won't listen to me when it's important."

"Rachel, yes I will. Look, I take my safety, and Gretchen's, very seriously. I know nothing about keeping my life secure. You know everything. If you were to start telling me how to write an Emmy winning song, I'd ignore you, as would be right. If I started telling you how best to keep me safe, then you'd ignore me, as would also be right."

"Are you sure?"

"One of my best friends is my boss at a Hot Topic store. She's wrote me up once for yelling at a customer. I never yelled at a customer after that."

Rachel blinked at me.

"Are you perfect, or just pretending to be?"

I blushed and tried to defend my ineptitude, but Gretchen beat me to the punch.

"He's pretty close to it, but would never let anyone else know it if he could help it. He keeps track of all of his failures so that he can prove his own imperfection."

"Doesn't that get annoying?"

"Nah, it's one of his more endearing features, because he actually believes he's imperfect."

"Guys, I'm right here."

"We know." Gretchen said, and ended my protest with a kiss.

"Guys, I know he's a guy, but it really makes me uncomfortable watching what looks like two girls making out."

"Ok, I'll go get changed. I've had enough Desdemona for the day anyway."

I left the two of them talking and went to get cleaned up. I peeled and scrubbed and primped and rubbed.

When I got done I was a bit raw, and happy to be so. I still had a very feminine looking face with my plucked eyebrows and a-line haircut, but it was me looking back from the mirror.

When I got out of the bathroom Gretchen handed me the phone.

"Uncle Richard wants to make sure that you're safe."

"Hey, Richard."

"Hey, Keith. So, I heard that they caught the guy."

"Girl."

"No, he's male. He let them know before processing."

"They get him to tell them his real name?"

"Not yet, and I think they'll likely have to drag it out of him."

"Well, that's fun. I told you I wanted to be in the movie, right?"

"Yes, you did. I've been meaning to talk to you about something, though. You're probably not going to be going back to school this fall."

"I can't just drop out!"

"I'm not asking you to. I think it would be a good idea if we hired private tutors to cover at least the next year."

"What about Juilliard?"

"Might have to give that up."

"Look, Richard. I understand the concern, but we need to be realistic here. I'm still a minor, and I need to finish my schooling. I need to go to college, since there's no guarantee that my life will continue in this direction, or for how long it will even work out."

"Keith, the way you spend money, you're currently set for life. And we're still selling videos and albums on iTunes."

"I want a normal life, Richard."

"You're life has never been normal. And if you really wanted a normal life, why did you propose to Gretchen. . .I mean propose so early to Gretchen. Damn it, you know what I mean."

"Yes, I know what you mean, Richard. I do. See it from my perspective, though, for a moment. If I can't make time for High School, how am I going to make time for college in two years."

"But we will be on the road so often, and then there's the movie to consider, and a possible tour this fall. . ."

"I'm going on tour?"

"I said possible."

"Well, better than not possible. Ok, if it's in the planning stages, then let's plan for the concerts to be on Fridays or Saturdays."

"Not always possible for all venues."

"When it's not possible, I'll have to fly out before the concert and back after. I will have the most normal life I can."

"And when you are out for a couple of months for the movie?"

"Fine. How about I take this fall from tutors, and we plan on me being in school next spring."

"I know how you feel about this, Keith, and for what it's worth I'm sorry."

"Me too. Kisses."

"Later, Keith."

The three of us talked for an hour or so to wind down from the show and the other event, and then Gretchen and I went to bed.

"You're sure it's ok?"

"Like I said. You're a friend. Take the other room."

"You two keep it down, then. I'm a light sleeper."

Gretchen and I chuckled at this.

"We will," I said.

Both of us were asleep shortly after lying down.

***
I awoke with a start, the darkness surrounding the two of us, Gretchen and I, and I lay there listening to her breathe. So much had happened to me in such a short period.

One month.

Had it really only been one month since I started pretending to be Desdemona? Well, since I started being Desdemona at any rate.

Somehow, my life in the past two months, while seeming to revolve around Desdemona, was really more about me than it ever had been in the past. I was singing my music. Gretchen and I were together as I'd always wanted us to be. I'd met people that I was sure that I would have as friends for the rest of my life, or at least I hoped that they would be.

I was, for the moment, content. I had a woman in my arms whom I loved more than breath. There would be problems in the future, of course, but in this individual moment in time there were no problems.

It was a perfect moment in time, and I simply wanted for it to last forever.

Like all such moments, it ended sooner than it should have, but it gave me strength for everything that came after.

Edited by the ever patient Julia Phillips.