We had been lovers for two years, weathering the storms of infatuation and anger that plagued the relationships of our friends. I had not spoken to my mother about what was happening to Gino. I’m sure she would have tried to help, but I was uncomfortable talking to her about my gay relationships. I’d have to say something to her soon if I expected her to be any help at all. Gino didn’t have much time left.
Gina started coughing and I leaned over him to hold a basin underneath his chin for him to spit. He spit some brown crud into the basin and I wiped his chin with the cloth from the bedside table. He lay back weakly and I tucked the covers around his shoulders as he closed his eyes.