“Natalie said, “That detective in charge of the case: is he your Jake?”My mouth dried. The words felt arid and dusty as I forced them out. “Who told you his name?” Like I had to ask.“Lisa pointed him out on television the other night, and I recognized him as one of the cops who was in here the other day.”I opened my mouth, and then shut it. Jake had to know he was fighting a rearguard action. And I was through lying to my own friends and family. “Yeah,” I said. “We used to be friends. A long time ago. He’s married now.”“Bastard,” she said.I shook my head. “Not really. He never lied to me. I just didn’t ask the questions I didn’t want to know the answers to.”

“I want to talk to him.I want to ask him about that girl and if he loved her and still misses her.Nothing, however, exits my mouth. How well do we really let ourselves know each other?There's a long quietness until I finally break it open. It reminds me of someone breaking bread and handing it out. In my case, I hand out a question to my friend.”

“I have this friend, Jake," Mr. Mitchell says, sitting on the edge of his desk. "One day, I needed a favor. It wasn't a big favor, but I called him and told him I needed something. Know what he said?" We shake our heads."He said, 'Sure.' Before he eve knew what i was going to ask him. You know why?"We shake our heads again. "Because he trusted me not to ask him to do something he couldn't or wouldn't want to do. He knew that whatever i asked for, he would help me simply because he was my friend and I needed help. That's true friendship.”

“My Teacher Sees Right Through MeI didn’t do my homework.My teacher asked me, “Why?”I answered him, “It’s much too hard.”He said, “You didn’t try.” I told him, “My dog ate it.”He said, “You have no dog.”I said, “I went out running.”He said, “You never jog.” I told him, “I had chores to do.”He said, “You watched TV.”I said, “I saw the doctor.”He said, “You were with me.” My teacher sees right through my fibs,which makes me very sad.It’s hard to fool the teacherwhen the teacher is your dad.”

“Jake once said on stage that Jonny was the mighty in their storm, and now I see that Jake is my mighty storm. He’s broken and complex, and no one knows him like I do, or ever will. He needs me. He’s my storm to calm. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing just that.”

“He called me Jess because that is the name of the hood which restrains the falcon. I was his falcon. I hung on his arm and fed at his hand. He said my nose was sharp and cruel and that my eyes had madness in them. He said I would tear him to pieces if he dealt softly with me. At night, if he was away, he had me chained to our bed. It was a long chain, long enough for me to use the chamber pot or to stand at the window and wait for the late owls. I love to hear the owls. I love to see the sudden glide of wings spread out for prey, and then the dip and the noise like a lover in pain. He used the chain when we went riding together. I had a horse as strong as his, and he’d whip the horse from behind and send it charging through the trees, and he’d follow, half a head behind, pulling on the chain and asking me how I liked my ride. His game was to have me sit astride him when we made love and hold me tight in the small of my back. He said he had to have me above him, in case I picked his eyes out in the faltering candlelight. I was none of these things, but I became them. At night, in June I think, I flew off his wrist and tore his liver from his body, and bit my chain in pieces and left him on the bed with his eyes open. He looked surprised, I don’t know why. As your lover describes you, so you are.”