"But!"I nodded ruefully. "I know."Indeed I did. She was working with the Jaycees (yes, they exist and even flourish in the Big Apple) on the Special Olympics, a sports competition for "special" children. "Special" meant what we unenlightened but no-less-loving folk used to call "retarded," for the most part, and frequently, physically disabled. In addition to her routine 60-hour-plus-4 a.m.-Telex weeks, June donated her enormous energies and ingenuity to things like the Special Olympics. The timing of the sore asshole, in a way, couldn't have been better. The program was going to greatly limit the time we had together for the next week - and it was one of the many reasons I was becoming more and more taken with her.Which was also one of the things that really bothered Annie.Who?Yes, ahem, well... At the time I met June, I had already known - in every sense - Annie for more than two years. I, like she, in those pre-AIDS days, had other lovers. Annie knew about June, and June knew. After both are made, both are set on the plate. The bacon joins. After making the gravy, I pour it into a serving bowl and begin cleaning the dishes. By the time it’s finished, it’s nearly seven in the morning. Carrying both plates, silverware, and the serving bowl, I make my way down the hall. Setting it all on your desk, I walk down the hall again. I return with two cups, a container of orange juice, and some toast. Pouring the juice, I notice you as you stir. I grab your plate, walking over to your side. I kiss you, hoping to gently stir you awake. As your eyes open, a smile spreads across your face as you see what I hold. After you sit up, I hand you the plate, spreading a tray over your lap. I grab my breakfast and sit next to you. We eat in silence. We need no words.We spend the day exploring the beach. Everywhere from the caves in the cliff to the shore. We spend a long time sitting in the small pool of water, heated by the sun. At my urging, you sit in my lap. I check around.
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