She gradually shut down all communication. He would email her often, sometimes every day, and she would reply only rarely. She tried to be more than polite, to stay warm and friendly while trying to be careful in what she said, but it didn’t matter. He would still descend into madness and go off on her, either weeping at his love and need for her and his hopelessness and despair at her absence–or railing at her for being so cold and distant, and not caring. And finally, the festering illness that their friendship had become, because of him, came to a head and broke. It happened late in May, which would be important. He had emailed her often, and she had not replied a word for weeks. Finally, he sent: ‘Are you OK? I haven’t heard from you in a long time. I hope you’re all right. Just drop me a line and let me know. Please, Carol. I miss hearing from you.’ He had been remarkably sane for quite some time, not dwelling on her constantly, and he really wondered if something had. I picked up the rental car and arrived at the resort in time for lunch. Being back in the town that held so many memories somehow relieved much of my anxiety.After eating and settling into my room I called Shuan. He was exuberant with excitement and eagerness to see me; I returned his feelings. My guilt had evaporated. I was wrapped up in thoughts of the coming evening. We agreed on a nice restaurant where it was highly unlikely we would meet anyone who knew either of us. It was understood that with about a ten-minute interval, he would come back to my room after dinner.I purposely arrived at the restaurant late, not wanting to possibly wait for him. As I walked up to the Maître D' I saw him sitting at a far back, somewhat secluded, booth. We spotted each other just as the Maître D' was asking if he could help me. I told him I saw my friend; he gestured for me to proceed.Shuan stood as I approached. We embraced and kissed, time had just faded away. At first, our conversation was a.
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