Billy wiped the steam from the mirror and squinted into his bloodshot eyes, seeing more of his father's self-destructive bent than he cared to admit. He wondered how much longer he could put himself through this ordeal. But he knew he couldn't be the one to quit.

He wondered if the others felt this bad. Charlie was suffering, for sure. And Derek. He couldn't remember how to open the cab door last night. He kept pushing against the handle. At least none of us spewed in the cab the way Charlie did last month.

Billy remembered Jenna asking him if he had fun. Fun? He wasn't sure anymore. When he was single going to a strip club and getting drunk with the guys was fun. Now it seemed like an obligation he had to force himself to do. Kind of like running, he thought.

And the dancers? Were they getting younger? When did he start feeling guilty looking at them?

He was the last of his four buddies to marry. Nearing thirty and still single, he began worrying he would never marry. He joked about how his friends were pussy whipped, but he envied the security of their lives, the routine. And they all married good women who put up with them, and even put up with their friends.

Except Ryan. Theresa held him on a short leash. How many times last night did they toast to the dearly departed Ryan McEvoy whose wife no longer let him out of the house the second Thursday of each month, two-for-one beer night at The Howling Pussycat? A sacred tradition since his wedding night when the four buddies pledged to keep hope alive by drinking themselves into oblivion once a month.

He thought of Jenna. The first time they met he told himself, 'Don't mess this up, boy. She's beautiful, smart and funny.' The other stuff, like her health obsession, he could work around that. It wouldn't be so bad to lose a few pounds.

Eventually, he learned to stop at McDonald's and get himself a cup of real coffee on his way to work or order the fried chicken special at Fat Sally's some afternoons. He tried remembering the last time he had lunch there. That's when last night's partying made a sharp turn north in his intestines. He barely made it to the toilet.

---

Jenna heard the retching sounds, but she knew better than to rush in and hold him. What was it with men, she thought. A stuffed nose and they want to be coddled like babies, but throwing up was some kind of manly rite of passage that had to be experienced alone.

"Are you all right, Bill?" She couldn't help herself. She stood at the bathroom door, eager for some sign of him needing her.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I'm fine. Feeling better now."

She heard him gargling. Finally, he opened the door. He was naked, his dark hair still wet. He wiped his mouth with the towel hanging from his shoulder. She liked the way his body looked. Just enough muscle definition and just the right amount of hair. She loved the way his dark chest hair narrowed to form a single line down his belly to his pubic hair. He looked masculine. Without thinking, she grabbed his penis and caressed the head with her thumb.

"Not now," he said, shaking his head and looking like his team had just lost the seventh game of the World Series. "I can't."

"You must be sick. You're not going into work today, are you?"

He sighed. "I have to. There's something I have to do this morning."

"Why? You have plenty of sick days coming to you. At least go in a little later."

"Just some coffee. I'll be all right."

She brought him a mug of coffee while he dressed.

"Stronger than usual," he said. "Thanks."

Something in his eyes, she thought. He knows I've been diluting his coffee. What a sweet man.

When he finished dressing, they hugged. "Thanks for being here," he said.

"Thanks for wanting me to be here."

He filled a traveler's mug with black coffee. "I'll skip breakfast today. And a run. I need to leave, but I'll be home early. Maybe just soup or something simple for dinner."

"Don't you want to talk about last night?" she said. She wanted to know all about his night out, but she knew if she pushed him to tell her, he'd clam up. But if she backed off a bit, he'd want to brag like a little boy.

"Please not now. Tonight." He kissed her goodbye. "Let's just sit and talk tonight. Maybe watch some TV. I got to go."

"You're a stubborn man, Bill Parnell. A stubborn man."