“Shane, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. We just want to help you is all.”

I scoffed, “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Bette sat down next to me, I kept looking at the pool. “We all need help sometimes. And that help can be something huge like saving a life, or little like a listening ear, or a quarter to make a phone call. But we all need something or someone sometimes.”

“I don’t need anybody.”

“Sure, fine. But you and I know both know that’s not true.”

Finally I turned and looked at Bette. “What do you think I need? What is it you think I need from you?”

Bette thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “A friend.”

Tina leaned forward, “A listening friend… How about two?”

I looked at the two of them. I didn’t know how to deal with this. Kindness and understanding were really not part of reality as I knew it. I was used to instantly seeing what was wanted from me, either getting that exchange done with or turning it down and leaving. But this… what was their angle? What did they want from me? Why were they being so nice? I remember thinking the streets might not be so bad. At least on the streets everything is black and white. You want, you take, you get. None of this emotional grey area bullshit. No ties, no commitments, no explanations. How did you explain this?

Tina knelt in front of me, putting her hands on my knees in a very motherly way. I was suddenly swept over with this memory of my mother doing that to me. On one of her clean periods. I had come home from school and was sad, not having been invited to a party everyone else had been. She had come up to me, knelt in front of me and put her hands on my knees, looking into my eyes and telling me everything was going to be OK. Why couldn’t life had stayed like that? I got that stinging sensation in my nose. Shit! This Tina woman does this one motherly gesture and I’m ready to start crying?! What was going on?! I pushed the tears back down. I would not cry. No. Not in front of anyone. Only the weak cry, and I couldn’t show weakness, it was the death of you.