#malbe

US Vogue May 1957

This ensemble consists of a jacket designed to be worn open. It's straight to the hips; the skirt is slightly fitted. The color, a lemony beige, is ideal for travel. By Handmacher, in Avisco grained rayon, acetate, and silk (Triplex fabric). Malbe blouse. Victory sunglasses by Kobley & Stern.

Ce tailleur se compose d’une veste conçue pour être portée ouverte. Celle-ci, droite jusqu’aux hanches ; la jupe, légèrement cintrée. La couleur, un beige citronné, est idéale pour voyager. Par Handmacher, en rayonne grainée Avisco, acétate et soie (tissu Triplex). Chemisier Malbe. Lunettes de soleil Victory chez Kobley & Stern.

I know it’s my fault. I am not stupid. I am not in denial. I am not blaming him at all. Not in the slightest but fuck, did he have to move on that quickly? I don’t doubt if he could hear my thoughts that he would say something along the lines of “You moved on as soon as you cheated on me.” or “So what if I did considering you were cheating on me the entire time?” And yeah, I cheated. I already admitted that this shit probably started with me but it doesn’t mean it hurt any less. That it didn’t fucking pain me to see him with another guy. To add insult to injury, he wasn’t even cute. Short and bleached blonde, loud laugh and even louder clothing. But then again, if he ended up with someone who was better than me… I don’t think that would make me feel any better.

  See, even when I was cheating on him… fuck, is it called cheating when there is nothing emotional involved? I mean I am not trying to excuse what I did but fuck, I’ll be honest. I just needed to get off. I needed it BAD. I spent my early teens too nervous to make out with boys and then the latter half making up for lost time. By the time I met him, well shit… I was used to it. Getting some was never a taxing chore, go to the club, bring someone home. Go to dance class, hook up in the locker room. A readily steady stream of guys were always down to hook up and then I met him and all that changed.

  I swear I wanted to be a good boyfriend. I truly did and even he will tell you that I never, not once, pressured him into doing something he was uncomfortable with or rushed him into trying anything that he didn’t want but fuck… patience is difficult. It’s not like I am claiming to be a saint by being a decent person and letting my boyfriend decide what he wanted but I just had needs too. Physical ones that weren’t being fulfilled so I tried to ignore them but eventually, they got to be too much and when someone’s eyes lingered a bit too long, a touch hesitating just for a moment too long on my skin… I succumbed… I gave in… I. Fucked. Up.

  I loved… fuck, I still love Ailbe. I love Ailbe in a way I never thought I could love anyone. I love him like he was the air I needed in my lungs in order to speak. I love him like he was the warmth I needed to sleep at night. I love him like he is Ailbe and he is all that is good in the world. Because he was and is and I am not and will never be.

  Mark shook his head, clearing his muddled thoughts as he continued to stare at them inside the restaurant, their heads leaning towards each other, slightly ducked as if they were sharing some sort of intimate secret and the acid boiled in his stomach. Just because he was a shitty boyfriend and Ailbe deserved more didn’t mean that he wanted Ailbe to find someone to replace him. Maybe if he was a bigger person, less selfish, less of an asshole, he would be able to let go, let Ailbe live his life to the fullest away from him with someone who could possibly make him as happy as possible but Mark didn’t want Ailbe to be happy with someone else. He wanted Ailbe to be happy with him.

  To his credit (or discredit), Mark waited until the midget-y blond thing left. He might have been going to the bathroom or leaving altogether but either way once he was gone from the table, he strode across the restaurant and sat across from Ailbe who didn’t even notice who he was talking to. “Hey, babe… I thought you were leav-” Ailbe looked up from his menu and frowned deeply, his forehead furrowed in darkened lines as he asked, “Mark. What are you doing here?” No, hello, no niceties, just a question spat out with barely contained bitterness and – maybe this was all in Mark’s head – the tiniest bit of wistful longing.

  “I-” and Mark had a whole speech prepared. A speech about how he had changed for the better, how he had sworn off the cheating. Sure, he still had baser urges connected directly to his groin but if he had to choose between meaningless sex with strangers and waking up to a guileless and innocent Ailbe in his bed, he chose Ailbe. He will always choose Ailbe.

  But when push came to shove, Mark couldn’t even bring himself to stay seated in the empty seat at the table instead he pushed himself up nervously, trying to appear stronger and more confident than he actually felt. He stood there awkwardly, leaning against the corner, looming over it like some sort of creeper while Ailbe continued to stare at him with those wide blue eyes, calm and a touch judgmental, ready to forgive or scorn all in that one look on his face. “I-” Mark’s mouth kept repeating that stupid pathetic vowel but the rest of his words wouldn’t come.

  Ailbe sighed and shook his head, “Even now, it’s still all about you, isn’t it?” He ran his hand through his hair, licking his lips at the same time and Mark remembered all the times he would do that for him. Stroking his fingers through the brown, slightly curly locks, licking a wet line between his lips, Mark’s heart clenched in his chest at the memories drowing him in his head. “Mark… Focus. For one fucking second, just… be here. With me. In this moment.” Mark gulped as he stared at Ailbe look more serious than he ever had before.

  “You know… I kept telling myself… the next time, I saw you… I wouldn’t make it easy for you anymore. I won’t try to take the least conflict-ridden road… Instead, I would really give you a piece of my fucking mind when I found out you were still fucking half of fucking Dublin but looking at you… Fuck…” Ailbe’s hands bunched the table cloth, wrinkling the white fabric as he took a deep breath, “There’s no point. Why lie and say I don’t care about you… still care about you… probably always will care about you…” Mark’s pulse picked up with glee at the possibility of a chance.

  “But that doesn’t matter.” Mark’s heart stopped.

  “You did something I thought you would never do. Purposely hurt me. Everyone gets hurt. It’s part of life but you knew what you were doing. You knew I would be devastated and you just… you just did it anyway. Even after I asked you in the first place if this was something you could do. Even after I told you in the beginning I understood if you couldn’t get into a relationship with me. You said you could do it. Not even a doubtful ‘maybe’ or shaky ‘I think I can.’ You just said you could and then you didn’t and now everything is fucked and…” Ailbe shook his head as he got up from the table, “I can’t even look at you without feeling like I am going to throw up… like I am going to cry… like my heart is breaking all over again. So Mark…” His hand rested on Mark’s shoulder, “I want you to be happy… I want you to be OK… but I want to be happy too… and I can only do that when I am not around you.”

“Gah! Get it off me!” Connor grimaced as sticky little jam hands closed around his left calf, staining his previously clean pants. For fuck’s sake… When he agreed to take care of the child, he had no idea how much work it would be. It was called baby-sitting after all. Didn’t that mean he could sit around while the baby just… did whatever the fuck babies did? Gurgle? Play with toys? Generally remain silent while he watched a game of footy? Connor grumbled at the small being pulling on his shirt, wondering if it was alright to attempt to shake the kid off of his leg.

  Ellie smirked as she stood in the doorway with her arms across her chest, making no move to help Connor escape the little boy who seemed to think he was a koala bear and Connor was some sort of nutritious tree he needed to climb in hopes of later eating. “It, it, it…? Really, Connor? If you aren’t going to call him by his name at least give him a proper pronoun.” Ellie shook her head, her disapproving frown contradicting the warm, amused tone in her voice. “Declan just wants to play with his Uncle Connor, now doesn’t he?”

  Declan was Mark and Ailbe’s adopted son. Two feet tall with brown curly hair and almost golden-brown colored eyes, he looked like the picture-perfect child and acted like such in front of his fathers but looks can be deceiving as evidenced by Declan was currently gumming his mouth against Connor’s trousers.

  After three years of dating followed by a year of being married, Mark and Ailbe decided to add on to their family. While Connor assumed they would be getting a pet – hell, he had a dog and a cat with Ellie – he was absolutely shocked when they announced Declan’s arrival. Connor never understood the need for progeny so soon after marriage. He supposed it was fairly logical and maybe even traditional for married couples to want children after a certain amount of time passed, especially in society’s eyes but really, so was getting a proper 9 to 5 job at a desk and owning a station wagon, neither of which Connor wanted.

  Thankfully, Ellie has yet to be bitten by that particular bug and they were blissfully married for three years but childless. Marriage was everything he hoped for and more - constant shagging turning into endless lazy days in bed into a sort of predictable intimacy he originally abhorred but now loved. His previous feelings on commitment were unfounded and Connor was as close to perfectly happy as he had ever been. A kid would just ruin that and if he had the choice, he was going to prolong the amount of time he had alone with Ellie for as long as possible.

  “Can you remind me why in hell did I agree to this? Declan is a demon child. He’s already wrecked half the flat. Everything I own is broken, smelly, sticky or all of the above. And I don’t know how the clever little knacker managed it, but I am pretty sure he managed to set the telly to only speak in Spanish and how am I supposed to fucking watch rugby when the only words I understand are ‘goallll’?” Connor stared down at the dark mop of hair, “You ruined football. You hear me. Ruined it.”

  “Connor…” Ellie warned, “First, language around the baby. Babies are frightfully intuitive, you know? Always programming new things into their barely formed brains and Mark will kill you if the baby’s first word is…” dropping to a whisper as she spelled, “’F-U-C-K-I-N-G’”

  Connor scoffed, “Please, do you know Mark at all? He would think it’s hilarious and then try to teach the baby how to say ‘slayyyy’ or some other such nonsense.” He bent down stiffly and picked Declan up, holding him far out from his body, his arms stretched out straight in front of him. “If anything, I have to worry about Ailbe. He might look like a dainty princess but he packed quite the punch.

  About a month or so ago, Connor decided to visit Mark and Ailbe since he happened to be in the area. It seemed like a good idea at the time but looking back, he probably should have called. He hopped up the steps quickly and used the key he had from when the two went on vacation and told him to bring in their mail. The house seemed quiet and Connor was somewhat disappointed his visit was fruitless when he rounded the corner to the kitchen and into a flying fist. Apparently visiting Mark and Ailbe after dinner time was not just a bad idea, it was a terrible idea when Ailbe thought he was a home intruder attempting to break-in at the first sign of darkness. Since then, Connor always made sure to call when he wanted to visit, the bruise a constant reminder in his reflection if he ever started to forget.

  Ellie smirked at the comment. Connor’s black eye was initially a huge cause for concern. When she first saw it, she ran to him to make sure he was OK and then promptly scolded him for getting into a fight before he told her what actually happened. Ellie never giggled so hard at the idea of Ailbe punching Connor in the face and Connor almost refused to talk to her afterwards, tempted to walk away in a huff when she leaned up to kiss the bruise tenderly, the laughter still flashing in her eyes and smile but her touch loving and caring. That’s how they always were. Taking each other both too seriously and not at all, and somehow at the end of it, it was perfectly alright.

  Connor looked at Declan warily, wondering if he should check his diaper, if Declan was hungry, if Declan was the spawn of Satan when a loud knock was heard from the door. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he still held Declan out like he was a bomb before he opened it with his foot. “Oi! Your child is defective. Take him back. All he does is scream, shit, and throw things.”

  Mark took Declan from Connor, cooing at the baby who was happily babbling against Mark’s neck. “So the baby was… you? At least Declan is barely a year old. What’s your excuse?” Ailbe kissed Declan on the cheek, nodding his agreement. Mark chuckled at his own joke as he walked further into the apartment to kiss Ellie on the cheek, “What are we going to do about him huh? Completely hopeless and look at Declan…” Mark nuzzled his nose to Declan’s cheek who shrieked with glee, “You love your Uncle Connor, don’t you? Yes, you do. You love him even if he is a stuffy old git who doesn’t want to admit he loves you too.”

  Ellie bit back her laughter, her face cemented with a wide grin as she helped Ailbe pack Declan’s things, “If you ever need someone to watch Declan again, please just let us know. You know he loves it despite the sour face he is pulling.” She hugged both Ailbe and Mark briefly and then they bounded out the door, bundled up with what looked like half a baby store.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t love it… I am the demon seed’s godfather, you know…” Connor grumbled and Ellie walked over to wrap her arms around his waist.

  “Yes, yes, I know Connor. I am sure everyone who loves someone calls them devil spawn affectionately.” Ellie cajoled Connor teasingly, one of her hands reaching up to muss up his hair affectionately, “Or in your case, demon seed, it, and that monstrous thing.” She smiled up at him warmly, “I know you actually care about it,” laughing incredulously as she said the last word.

  Connor leaned down and kissed her sweetly, his lips lingering against hers as he thought about all the things he loved about her– her soft skin always smelled vaguely of strawberries, her ever-changing hair flashed shades of gold and scarlet, her constant laughter and giggling always managed to pull him out of a sulk – before pulling away. “I love you, you know. And I guess… if I had to be completely honest… and you were to twist my arm…” he bit his lip as if he was seriously mulling it over, “I suppose children aren’t the absolute worst. Definitely a notch down from getting my wisdom teeth removed.”

  Ellie nodded, taking in this bit of information as she brushed the hair back from Connor’s forehead, her eyes drifting down before looking back up, “Well good… because I am pregnant.”

  Connor pressed his cheek to the top of her head, quietly humming his acknowledgement when his head caught up with what she said. “Did you just say you’re fucking pregnant?”

  Ellie nodded again, albeit this time, she did it nervously and she started to pull one of her hands away from Connor to chew on her thumbnail when Connor picked her up and spun her around before putting her down carefully as if suddenly, she was incredibly fragile.

  “We’re going to be fucking parents? I am going to be a fucking Papa?” Connor’s voice shook with barely contained excitement.

  “Well, yes. Minus the fuckings anyway. Honestly, Connor, you have to watch your mouth around…” Ellie’s hand drifted downwards to touch her still flat stomach and Connor grinned, taking her other hand and kissing the knuckles gently as he decided to tease her right back.

“MARK FINNEGAN O’CONNOLLY! You cannot expect me to wear another jacket! It’s not like I never experienced winter before! I was born and raised here! Just like you!” Ailbe staggered slowly outside, looking less like Ailbe and more like the Michelin Marshmallow Man.

  Earlier that day, Mark came running into their bedroom, jumping on the bed to jostle Ailbe awake. “Ailbe! It’s snowing!!! It’s fucking SNOWING!” Ailbe chuckled and rubbed his eyes as he sat up, watching Mark act like a five year old. While it wasn’t immediately obvious that Mark liked snow - especially considering his love of not wearing very much – he loved the snow. Ever since he was a kid, he would wait for the day that the air would become frosty and crisp, the smell of ice tickling the back of his nose and when it finally snowed, it didn’t matter what he was doing, he would immediately run out and try to catch a snowflake on his tongue (this, of course, resulted in many a cold for little Mark including the time he ran out naked and wet from a bath at seven years old, insistent that he catch the first snow).

  “Mark… do you like the snow or something…?” Ailbe teased, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and pulled partially over his head like a hood. “I honestly couldn’t tell.” Mark pursed his lips before opening his mouth for a smart-mouthed retort when he noticed Ailbe giggling under the blanket.

  “You were just winding me up… weren’t you?” Mark crawled across the bed and pounced on top of Ailbe, propping himself up on his arms. “So mean to me, sweetling. I just wanted you to come out and see the first snow with me. Don’t you like snow?” How could anyone not like snow? It was fluffy, cold, sparkling holiday goodness that fell from the sky. School got cancelled, work delayed, cider warmed and winter just didn’t feel like winter until snow arrived so in Mark’s opinion, anyone who didn’t like snow was likely the Grinch in disguise and had no place in his happy winter holiday anyway.

  Ailbe grinned up at Mark, his hands smoothing down Mark’s back. “I like snow just fine. Just not as much as you apparently.”

  Satisfied with that answer, Mark dropped down, hugging Ailbe snugly, “Snow time. Snow time. Snow. Time. You should feel honored I waited for you, you know. Damned important to me if I am waiting to go out into the snow.” He figured the weight of what he said wouldn’t translate, after all, Ailbe didn’t grow up with him. Ailbe had no idea that Mark loved snow and everything it symbolized: holidays, snow men, warm cuddles in front of the fire; Mark didn’t mind though, it meant he could show Ailbe. He was rubbing his cheek against Ailbe’s chest when it started. A wet cough that quickly became a hacking attack, and Mark quickly rolled off of Ailbe’s rattling torso to hand him a glass of water from the night stand, “OK, sweetling…?” Ailbe nodded wordlessly, sipping the water slowly.

  Mark frowned, he shouldn’t be encouraging Ailbe to go out into the snow. Ailbe’s health was unsteady. Some days, he seemed perfectly fine, chasing Mark after he decided it was a good idea to smear whipped cream on Ailbe’s face. Other days, Ailbe seemed weak and sickly, ranging from a runny nose to crippling coughing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Ailbe to come out and see the snow, far from it, ever since the weather started turning cold, all he wanted to do was tackle Ailbe into the snow and possibly make a snow man while obnoxiously and tunelessly sing Frozen songs until Ailbe kissed him into silence but as much as he wanted it, he didn’t want to risk Ailbe’s health.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Ailbe asked Mark with hopeful eyes and Mark shook his head, smiling slightly. He didn’t mean to let his thoughts become apparent on his face, Ailbe had enough to worry about without him worrying about Mark’s worrying about Ailbe. It was an endless circle of melancholy if they constantly worried about the other one being worried.

  “Nothing…” Mark stopped talking as he watched Ailbe start to frown, “OK, it’s not nothing it’s just… I really like the snow and…” Ailbe’s frown deepened in confusion and he prompted Mark to go on. “Sweetling… I don’t want you to get sick…”

  Ailbe laughed in relief, “Is that it? You were worried that I would go out in the snow with you and catch my death of cold?” Mark nodded almost pitifully and Ailbe pulled Mark closer into his arms, kissing the top of his head, “You are rather silly sometimes, you know that?” Mark pouted up at Ailbe and Ailbe kissed him softly, “That’s what jackets, gloves, boots, socks and all the other ridiculously warm Irish wool goods are for, love. I will be fine. Let’s go play in the snow, OK?”

  In complete delight, Mark giggled, his hands quickly finding Ailbe’s, squeezing them tightly as he peppered Ailbe’s face with kisses. “You are the best, sweetling. An absolute genius.” However, they didn’t get outside for at least another hour and while Mark would claim it was because they were distracted in the bed for some time, which they were with lazy morning kisses and teasing caresses, they were also delayed by Mark’s insistence that Ailbe wear three hoodies, a peacoat, two scarves, two pairs of socks, mittens over gloves and a hat. Mark was in the middle of arguing that another jacket was reasonable, maybe ear muffs too when Ailbe huffed his protest and waddled out the door. His steps greatly encumbered by the many layers of clothing, his normally light step resembling something close to the ungainly gait of Frankenstein, slow and stilted.

  Mark followed Ailbe, mumbling that one more jacket never hurt anyone when the cold of the snow hit him and his cheeks immediately reddened. Everything was still more dreary than white but as the snow continued to fall around them, it was like being covered in shimmering glitter. He felt like a cake topper on a wedding cake, surrounded by soft shades of white. He ran towards Ailbe then in his excitement, tackling him into a hug but with the slick ground and Ailbe’s newly clothes-induced clumsiness, they both slipped and fell on the ground.

  “Fuck!” Mark panicked and quickly started checking Ailbe for injuries, kissing him and mumbling apologies all while he poked and prodded to make sure nothing was broken. He’d never forgive himself if he managed to break Ailbe all because of the snow, even if he did love it. He started tugging at Ailbe’s arm to make sure it was properly aligned when Ailbe chuckled softly as he placed a hand against Mark’s cheek, his warmth spreading across Mark’s cold skin. “I am fine, love. Barely felt a thing.” He thumped his chest playfully, the many layers of cloth causing the movement to sound like a muffled thud.

  Mark let out a small sigh of relief and hugged Ailbe tightly, his cheek pressed against Ailbe’s chest in a desperate attempt to listen to his heartbeat, just in case something might still be wrong but all he heard was the silent cushion of fabric and he comforted himself with that. “See… I told you one more jacket never hurt anyone.”

Mark smiled as he brushed the sweat-damp hair back from Ailbe’s forehead. It took a while to get Ailbe to sleep, he was weak from the medication, tired from the lack of rest, and it made both him and his emotions frail and stressed. Mark tried to cajole him into sleep, soft comforting coos and constant cuddles but still, Ailbe’s eyes fought slumber until Mark started telling him stories, some true, some made-up and some in-between. Mark might not have been able to sing worth a damn but he had a way of drawing people in when he spoke, if not for his colorful ability to create endless stories, something in his voice kept people engaged because of his conviction, as if he truly believed in what he said in the moment and he wanted you to believe in it too.

  He slowly got out of the bed, not wanting to wake up Ailbe and he left the door slightly ajar so he could hear if Ailbe woke up. Sitting down softly on the couch in the living room, he fished out the phone from his pocket, dialing quickly. The phone rang twice before he picked up and Mark smiled instinctively, “Hey Eddie, how are you?”

  “OK. Went to class today. It was fun. You? Did you go to class?” Ed’s voice chirped cheerfully. He didn’t even ask who he was talking to, he knew it would be Mark.

  “No, silly. It’s Saturday. I don’t have class on Saturdays.” Ed chuckled on the other end and that’s how the next ten minutes passed. Small talk about nothing in particular until they both ran out of things to catch up on.

  “You are coming tomorrow right?” Ed’s voice barely contained the excitement and anticipation and Mark nodded despite Ed not being able to see.

  “Have I ever missed a Sunday?”

  “No… but-” Mark interrupted Ed gently, shushing away his protest.

  “No, buts, nuts or coconuts. Now go to sleep. We will hang out tomorrow, OK?”

  “OK,” and Mark could almost hear the smile in Ed’s voice. “Good night, Mark. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Sweet dreams,” Mark waited to hear the audible disconnect of the phone before he locked the screen and laid it against the arm rest of the couch.

  As much as he loved talking to Ed, he was always filled with a certain kind of sadness and nostalgia afterward. He loved Ed. He did but he couldn’t help remembering the boy he was before. Light on his feet, quick with a response, running, leaping, dancing everywhere and yes, some of that was still there but a lot of it… a lot of it was never going to come back.

  He slid down the couch, his hair mussing against the cushions of the couch. Was it selfish to feel this way? Ed had been through so much with the accident and learning how to walk, talk and just be again but he didn’t remember who he used to be. It was almost like being reborn, the slate wiped clean at the end of the day but Mark… Mark was plagued with the memories of what was and what would never be again and he thought about it all the time. Was he selfish to wish he could move on?

  Mark’s sighs were heavy as he thought, coming from deep inside his chest. His normally straight posture curved in towards himself as if he was trying to close off from the rest of the world. What was the point of all this? Caring about someone, investing emotions into something if it didn’t last? He knew he wasn’t perfect. All those boys after Ed and the way he treated them, it was less than ideal but it kept him safe. It kept him sheltered. It kept him from getting hurt. He never thought he would let anyone in after Ed. He came sweeping into Mark’s heart at that dance studio and fuck Mark wanted him to stay there and he did, in a way, but it was different now. Everything was different now. Different because of Ailbe.

  Ailbe with his sweet smiles and innocent blue eyes. Ailbe with the overly coiffed but ever perfect hair and over-sized jumpers. Ailbe who he hadn’t even had sex with, the one thing he had allowed himself outside of his relationship with Ed, was living with him and sleeping in his bed and fuck, he didn’t want him to leave. He wanted him to stay. He wanted Ailbe.

  It wasn’t meant to be this way. For him to even think about someone else much less want someone else. When he and Ed were dating, there was no space in his heart for anyone else. Then, when he had the boys in Galway, they were transient and brief. They barely left a mark, much less a lasting impression on his heart. It was still all about Ed because no one mattered. He was already spoken for and sure, he might have acted contrary to that sentiment but he knew who he belonged with at the end of the day so who cared who he hurt in the process. But now? Now there was… there was Ailbe.

  Growing up, his parents always supported him and his love of dance. Waking up early to drive him to the dance studio, staying up late to watch his recitals, his parents were wonderful. The one thing his mother worried about when it concerned dancing was his health. She held her breath when he leaped across the stage. She winced when he sprained an ankle. She always said, “There is nothing more important than being well and whole.” Mark tended to agree with her but now, he wasn’t so sure.

  He was starting to think watching Ed shakily relearn the steps to a simple dance was awe-inspiring. He believed Ailbe fighting to get out of bed every day, rolling out of bed with his smile tight as he faced the world was beautiful. Health and wellness were important and he wished everyone had it but the fragility of the people around him revealed strength and they were all the more precious to him because of it.

  But with fragility and perseverance, there was fear. The fear of losing someone. He almost broke when he heard about Ed. He kept a smile on his face and pretended to be OK but inside, he was lost. At a loss. Reaching for a person that was no longer there. He didn’t know if he could do that again with Ailbe. He could feel the potential. He wasn’t blind to it all (and deep down, it was already too late) but could he? Could he risk it again? With everything as precarious as it is, could he maintain hope that it would still be OK in the end? He didn’t know.