Wawa

We sit in the front seat of my SUV and he sobs to me, speaking in a high, hoarse voice. Most of what he says is incoherent to me.

I finally tell him that I need to get a hot chocolate. He follows me into the store like a puppy. I buy him a hoagie and a bottle of water, but when we get back out to my car, he refuses both. And then begins crying again.

"I'm sorry I'm such a fuck-up," he sniffles. "Why do you even like me?"

"David, you're absolutely not a fuck-up. And I like you--no, I love you--just because I do. Because I know you. I know who you are."

"But I do so many bad things!" he wails.

"Yes, you've done some bad things," I concede. "But I know you, and you are not a bad person. You're a good person. A good man. And I love you so, so much...no matter what."

I pull him into my arms and hold him for a long time.

Finally, we break away when he asks me to take him home.

I pull onto the road and he begins to cry again, his shoulders hitching violently.

I drop him off in the parking lot of Pica's, and by this time, he's calmed down a bit.

"This isn't our last encounter," he tells me.

"I know, sweetheart. You just keep me posted, okay? Keep me in the loop. I'm always here to talk to. And I love you. I really, really love you, David."

We hug again and he walks back toward her house, his entire posture slumped.

This whole situation is enough to make an atheist pray, and I take a moment just now to close my eyes and focus my energy on David getting well again.