The worst times are when he sleeps.
No sooner does he succumb to the needs of his weak body when the cold rational confines of his mind are brutally stripped away and heavy waves drag him down to the memory bank.
He remembers those halcyon days when their lives fit together seamlessly – hand in glove, a second skin really.
Remembers their routines, the phone call in the middle of the day to check the status of plans made that morning.
Remembers the comfort of his presence – self and clothing and books and papers and such – strewn with an artful carelessness about the house.
Remembers viscerally the peace that comes with the cessation of loneliness, the feeling of completion when one belongs to another.
Once they had designed a butterfly garden with the intention of capturing the flight of the monarchs as they emerged from their cocoons and Danny won an award for the film.
Once they painted the rooms of their house outrageous colors which Ivo pronounced "vile" and Danny "vibrant".
Once they made a set in the barn for a short Danny wrote, gathering nets and buoys from the shore, but the fishy stench brought the feral cats in droves and gave Mrs.
Tidbits fleas and Ivo said it had to be dismantled before the neighbors called the Mounties which Danny said was a shame because it was the best idea he'd ever had but he agreed to stage
the shoot on the beach.
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