Note from Andrew: A lot of folks send E-mail and I have not been good, at all, about keeping up. I know many of you regular readers feel neglected not to hear from me every day and I've even managed to piss some of you off. Sorry, but something had to give and unfortunately regular correspondence is the one I had to pick. Even the closer knit group I talk to (a small circle of eight) would tell you that my E-mail regularity leaves much to be desired. But they also understand that I am focusing my energy on Joe and on Wayne, and on me, too, somewhere along the way. My inbox in any given day has 40-50 messages. My mailbox in a given regular week could have over 200. My record in one week was in the mid-300s. If you do not know it, the Nifty Archive readership is HUGE!!. And it gets busier as I put up stories.

So, for now anyway, the mail is read but not answered. I do appreciate the cheering that is going on. And I'm not kidding when I say it's world wide - Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong, the UK, the Netherlands, France, Russia, Germany, Italy, the Middle East, South Africa, all over Canada, all over the US ... men, women, students, people all moved by the Chris and Joe series and moved again by the Joe and Andrew series. If the day was 48 hours long, I could answer all the mail, fairly. It'll be some day, when my Joe is better.

Joe and Andrew - Part 9

When I need to know about something, the Internet is usually my first source of information. I can get a straight, unemotional answer there.

Many are asking about what was on my biopsy in June, not satisfied with the answer of "It's not important, Joe comes first."

So I needed time to research and to give an unemotional answer. The biopsy showed I have a tumor, to the right side of my lower spine, attached (as far as we know) to the bone and to tissue. Now comes the question "what kind of tumor" and the need for an answer. It follows (from an Internet site called "Oncolink", from the University of Pennsylvania. It's located at

OncoLink FAQ: Information About Myeloma

Last Revision Date: Wednesday, 21-Apr-1999 19:00:24 EDT
Copyright (c) 1994-1999, The Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania

Dear OncoLink,
Please tell me what myeloma cancer is. My lifelong friend has myeloma at the first lumbar spine. They operated and removed the tumor, but could not reach all of the cancer cells. He is now getting radiation treatments to his abdomen.

He experiences great pain. He has commissioned me to find out if there is any hope of eradicating the remaining cancer cells in this manner. He wants to know if there is any hope of him recovering a normal life style.

Are there any statistical records of survivors of this dreaded disease? My job is to give him encouragement so that he might keep his spirits up. Is there any information that you can provide, or point me to so that I can give him a hope for the future?

Thank you,

John Han-Chih Chang, MD, OncoLink Editorial Assistant, responds:
Dear J.E.,
Thank you for your interest and question.

Myeloma is often called multiple myeloma (MM) because of its diffuse involvement and nature. This cancer has an occurrence rate of 2-3 per 100,000. It is a disease seen mostly in the 6th and 7th decades of life and involves the bones and soft tissues.

The cell of origin in multiple myeloma is the plasma cell or the B-lymphocytes that make antibodies. The malignancy is the result of abnormal growth of one plasma cell line. This disease is usually found in the bone but can be found in the soft tissues. Symptoms of MM include bone pain, infection, bleeding, and/or increased fatigue. These symptoms are due to the decrease in white blood cells (infection fighting cells), platelets (clotting cells), and red blood cells (oxygen carrying cells) caused by replacement of the bone and bone marrow with the cancerous plasma cells. The pain associated with MM is a result of bone and marrow being replaced by cancer cells.

Most of the bony lesions are lytic, meaning that there is bone being reabsorbed causing an increased risk of fracture. The lesion can be solitary (only one focus of tumor) and termed a plasmacytoma (tumor of plasma cells). It can be just a solitary bone plasmacytoma or an extramedullary plasmacytoma (NOT in bone, but soft tissues of the head/neck, lungs, lymph nodes, spleen and gastrointestinal tract).

The solitary lesions do better than MM, since by definition MM is diffuse in nature. Most solitary bone plasmacytomas, unfortunately, progress to MM, while extramedullary disease is less likely to do so (but still can). Thus, MM patients have a much worse outcome than solitary bone plasmacytoma patients, who have a grimmer outlook than extramedullary disease.

For solitary lesions, treatment to the primary tumor is usually with radiation therapy. It can be very effective in controlling and eradicating the painful lesion in bone or soft tissue. Chemotherapy to prevent progression to MM has not really been effective. For MM, treatment is usually with chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy with good initial response, but poor durability of control.

Chemotherapy is usually with a drug called melphalan along with a steroid called prednisone. Other chemotherapy can be used. Some have advocated using bone marrow or peripheral stem cell transplant, but results are preliminary and are currently under testing in a major clinical trial.

Total body or hemibody radiation has been used in cases of chemotherapy resistant MM with some limited success and high toxicity. Local field radiation has been used to treat areas of pain to help make the person comfortable, but is not curative. The outlook is not promising for MM, though there have been some long-term survivors with stabilized disease for a number of years (with treatment MM can have a prolonged clinical course).

I knew about the cancer since Thursday June 17, the day after my biopsy. I didn't tell anyone, except Wayne. Not sharing is not a wish to hide. Not sharing is a wish to give my effort to Joe. I repeatedly hear (and I whole-heartedly understand) that I am cared for as much as Joe is. Thank you to those who do. I walk and breathe each day in this world, as if nothing is wrong. Joe's not doing that, and won't be for a long time to come. I do some of it for him but it's not damn near enough. Having this sucks, especially now. The timing is so lousy that I can't understand it. It'll mean 2-3 days a week away from the hospital, at least this one. It'll mean radiation treatments and it'll eventually mean chemotherapy treatments (I already asked - it's standard 'clean up duty' after radiation). It'll mean time away from Joe again when I least want it. I can't see why we have to constantly fight. If Joe was fine and I had this, we'd handle it together. I told Wayne on the Sunday night that he stayed over, though the conversation wasn't in the journal. He sort of agreed with my decision about not to share, but said that I shouldn't keep it to myself long.

Therefore, after much struggling with my own ideas, this is what has been going on (and why my E-mail has fallen off). This is going to my closest E-mail friends first, though I'm keeping this intact to send with as a journal as well. I still got a lot to think about and most of it will wait until next week (the last week of June) since the treatment protocol is undecided. The basic rule is one day (or one crisis) at a time. I'm only human, in theory anyway. One of my friends asked me, a bit tentatively, about my prognosis. At the time I did my research, I read that there is only a 7% survival rate for Myeloma beyond five years. Mine is reduced, it says to 2% because of the involvement with my spine.

I just told a friend of mine in E-mail not to be afraid of my cancer. He's a young man who I have made a brother out of, for two reasons - for him, and for me. He says he cried when I told him the news and that he was again shaking when he was writing me back. What made him feel better? This:

"And if you believe with me, even if you're scared, then I'll have twice the strength I need."

Thursday, June 24 and into Friday, June 25

Today was a 'play hooky' day from work, a day to adjust my attitude. I had convinced friend Wayne to take the afternoon off. We sat on Joe's balcony at 1:00 in the afternoon listening to a wide variety of music. Joe's got a diverse music collection - Celine Dion (his favorite), Dan Fogelberg (my near favorite), Billy Joel, Elton John, Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync and 98 Degrees (the 'boy bands' currently making hearts throb around the world), Enya, Yanni, etc. etc. Music is the common ground for us guys. We both sat with large strawberry milkshakes for lunch, made with fresh berries and French vanilla ice cream that Wayne picked up at the farmer's market on the way home. Somewhere in the back of my head was my mom telling me I had to eat before I had dessert. This wasn't dessert; it was a meal, in high style too.

I took Wayne home and made sure he was okay, that he would go to bed and sleep. He was sick. He was tired and plain weary. He'd been fighting the cancer for so long, even after losing his leg.

I asked my friends to watch the moon with me, along the lines of being under the same big sky, no matter where we are. I go out around midnight most nights and listen to the night. The crickets and the bullfrogs sing for me. I call it the 'night symphony'. I want to teach the rest of the world to listen at night. There's peace out there. I sat on my jacket because there was dew on the grass. I sat under a tree so that some of the thinner branches covered the moon. I'd like to be a photographer and put such a scene on film, instead of leaving it in my mind. But then again, I close my eyes and I can tell you in intimate detail what I saw, how warm the air was, what the breeze felt like, the sounds I heard and where they came from ... something you can't capture on film. I'm okay with the night up until about 2:00 a.m. From then until dawn I get antsy if I'm up. There doesn't seem to be peace at that hour of the night. The creatures of the night get bigger and meaner. I'd rather sleep then, at least until the sun comes up. I laugh at myself - as I'm writing this, it's 1:20 a.m. on the 26th of June. I have a million things I want to write and 40 minutes to write them. Maybe I'll let the sleeping meds I took just a few minutes ago bring me down and let me lay beside my Joe. I can write all day on Saturday if I want to.

June 29th

Today was my first radiation session. I spent the entire day dreading it. Wayne came by my cubicle at work in the afternoon to see how I was. I was scared. I couldn't ask myself why I had cancer; there's no answer for that, not one I'm willing to listen to anyway, that's reasonable. I had to get 'marked up' so that the tech knew where to irradiate me. A second tech asked me to push my jeans below my hip. Some of you know that when I wear jeans, I wear nothing underneath because I love denim against my skin. With two techs and an RN in the nearby vicinity, I did just that, and then some. I pushed my jeans to just below my butt, bent over, and gave everyone a full moon.

"Andrew! That's not what I said. Now be a good boy," she said laughing, trying not to encourage me.

I stood up, turned around while pulling up my jeans, and gave them the most wicked grin I could manage.

"Are you going to be a problem child?"


She stood and shook her head, helping me up on the table. I lay on my stomach and turned my head. There was a small window across the room. Wayne stood by it, smiling and giving me a thumbs up sign for the mooning. I stared at him, letting the techs do their thing. He stepped back a half step so I could see him a bit more. He rubbed his hand across his heart, twice, slowly.

"I love you too friend," I said to myself because he couldn't hear me.

He knew. He nodded. I made eye contact and held it. I didn't want any part of what was going on. But I didn't want the tumor to eat me alive. There was no choice, and little will that was my own.

When we finished, I sat down in a chair for a few minutes. I ended up incredibly dizzy, more likely from nerves vs. anything the radiation did. It wasn't much more complicated than going for an X-ray. I would have to come back in 24 hours for another.

Wednesday passed like Tuesday. Today was Wayne's chemotherapy day as well. He sat with me while we waited my turn for my treatment. He again stood in the window and locked onto my eyes so I had something else to think about. He winked at me and smiled slightly. I mouthed "I hate this". He nodded his head. "Me too," he said.

We walked around the building to where he'd have his treatment. I sat beside him as the tech put the needle into an opening in his hip. I had nothing to bitch about, but he let me anyway. He didn't bitch back, or tell me to stop being a baby. He had been here. He knew what it felt like the first time. He'd done it alone. None of his friends stood by him. I told him that he'd never do it alone again, that I'd stand by him. It meant time away from Joe and Wayne argued about it. I told him I wouldn't accept the argument because I loved him too.

His progress against the cancer was encouraging. The doctors had said that if he continued to do well, he they would cut back to one chemo a week by August. They said that he could be in remission by September, with a little luck. Wayne believed in luck; and hope.

He closed his eyes as he lay back in the reclined chair. I took his hand and watched his face. He smiled.

"What?" I asked.

"You're staring."

"You don't know that. Your eyes are closed."

"I feel you. I hope Joe feels you the same way. I can feel your concern and I can feel your eyes. Joe has to, I'm convinced. You're a very strong presence."

"Thank you for that. I need to hear that Joe does feel me too. I love you, but I love Joe so much more. That's not meant ..."

"I know what it means, man. Don't apologize."

"So I hope that Joe does feel me. I stare at him endlessly. I know where every scar is on his face right now. I know what's healed well and what hasn't. I know every incision in his chest. I know everything about him. It makes me hurt for him."

"Don't hurt for him. Hope for him. He needs to feel that more."


" I know. Do it anyway. You're strong enough. No other friend has ever sat with me through chemo. I've been here too many times alone, starting in Connecticut. When I get my remission, and I will, soon, you're as much the reason as I am."


"Yes, Andrew. You make me want to live. You give amazing gifts to those close to your heart. I'm blessed. To know you care about me is the best gift I've ever gotten."

He threw up throughout the night. He knew what to expect from the chemicals in his body. Nausea was extreme, despite the mix of an anti-nausea agent within the chemo. I held his head and massaged his back. I helped him back to the sofa and lay beside him for a while. The second nausea wave came and went. I put him to bed in the spare room. I sat on the sofa for a time and listened to music. When I went to bed, it was after 3:00 a.m. Wayne was still awake, tossing restlessly. I took him into Joe's bed and held him the rest of the night. He went to sleep in no time. The alarm went off at 7:15 and he got up, showered, sat with me on the bed for a few minutes, and then went off to work as if nothing was wrong. No one at work, save a very small handful, knew that he had cancer. He had work to do and pushed the cancer out of his mind. Work was a distraction to him. It was eight or nine hours of not having to fight the demons.

I sat beside Joe the next morning, holding his hand, reading from the newspaper. One of the techs that had been with us from the beginning came in and sat down. He was a good man, taking care of both Joe and me over the past 15 months.

"So this is what being gay is about?"

"No, this is what loving someone is all about."

"There's a difference?"

"Yeah. A big difference. Love is why we do anything in our lives."

"But you're a gay man, who loves another gay man."

"Yes. And no. I love Joe. It's not being gay that lets me be here with him."

"You've been here forever. Haven't you ever felt like giving in and going home?"

"Yeah. But there's no way to do that. I need Joe. I hope he needs me."

"No one would care for me this way."

"How do you know? Someone always cares about us."

"No. Not me. I don't have any friends any more."

"Come on, man ..."

"I don't. I told a close friend, who I thought that I could trust, that I'm gay. He hit me in the face. I haven't talked to him since. No one would do this for me, Andrew, not like you're doing for Joe."

But he trusted me, enough to tell me too.

"Have you felt that way for a long time?"

"Yeah, since I was 14, about eight years."

"What made you decide to come out to your friend?"


"Then he let you down."

"I didn't expect it. I thought he'd be okay about it. He never made fag jokes or laughed at others who did. I just didn't want to keep it to myself any more."

"Have you told your family?"

"Have you?"

"Yeah. They love Joe. They know how we came to be together. They are happy to have raised a son who cares so much, so they say. I don't really doubt them."

"My family would disown me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My father ... he doesn't like fags."

"I don't like that word."

"It's what I am."

"It's a terrible word. You use it like you're ashamed of yourself."

"I am."

He got up and left. I hoped he'd come back later. It's been a week. He's been doing what he did in the past, taking care of Joe and me. But he hasn't shared any more with me yet. He knows I'd like to talk.

"Joe needs your attention. Not me."

"Then when you're ready. Please."

He nods.

July 3rd

I sent this section of E-mail to a couple of folks, including to Wayne:

I'm having a tough afternoon. Damn I miss my Joe! I want to go home so bad, man. I'm so tired, and I'm so scared. What's ahead for Joe seems so impossible. He's going to come out of the coma, for good, some day. Then he'll have to learn how to walk all over again. And to accept that his leg is gone. And then to come home. And to go back to work. I'm scared that there may be no place for me because he'll be trying t0o hard just to do ONE of those things, never mind all of them. I've forgotten what 'normal' is. I want him to know that I'm here, that I hold his hand, that I want his to touch me again, that I want so badly to be held instead of doing all the holding ... and I can't stop crying. I need Joe to tell me that we're okay.

I think I'll walk. Then I'll tell myself we're okay; when I can believe it. And then I'll hold Joe's hand and not give a damn that he doesn't take mine back, as long as he knows I've got his. But for now I feel damned selfish and very sad.

Wayne dropped what he was doing and came out to the hospital. We walked around the grounds for an hour. He held me, warmly and in great kindness. It didn't take care of 100% of my funk, but he did manage to chase away a very large part of it.

"I'm glad you came out."

"I wished you had told me sooner, instead of letting it get to you."

"But I was trying not to let it get to me. I've chased it off before. Today I couldn't."

"I'm here, friend. I don't care what time of day or night. I'm here and I'll come anytime you tell me to."

I walked him back to his car. He rolled down the window.

"I love you Andrew."

"Thanks friend. I love you too. I'm glad for that."

I stood and watched him drive off. Joe needed me again now that my need had been filled.

I sat beside my Joe, held his hand for a while, kissed it, and put it against my chest. I closed my eyes and sat back in the chair, my feet up on the table. I still wanted to go home. But we weren't going right now. So be it; we'd go home some day, together.

On the 4th I went home about 8:30 a.m. Wayne was going to meet me around 10:00. We had a cookout that we got invited to. I thought about turning down the invitation. I decided to accept.

When I got home I lay down on Joe's bed. I slid my hand inside my jeans and closed my eyes.

"Come on Andrew, the water's great," Joe said as he ran, undressing as he went.

I ran into the water and splashed him as long and fast as I could. By the time we finished our initial assault on the water, both of us were soaked from head to toe, and everywhere in between. I went back to the beach and took off my sneakers, socks, T-shirt, and jeans. Joe had been in the water in his swim trunks but I couldn't wait long enough to strip down before I got in.

"You're crazy!" he shouted to me.

"Crazy for you!" I shouted back.

The sun was just coming up over the eastern horizon. We were on Cape Cod, at the National Seashore in Wellfleet. It was October, my birthday weekend. No one was on the beach as far as we could see. I got back in the water. He came over and kissed me.

We sat back, side by side, as the tide came in, jostling us around a bit with each wave, while the sun rose slowly. It was huge. The gulls flew overhead, squawking and gliding effortlessly on the wind. The water was cold but about as refreshing as I've ever felt. I held his hand as we lay back on our elbows. Then I slid my hand inside his trunks and fondled him, getting him nice and hard.

"Jeez Joe, it's like blowing up a balloon. One second you're soft, the next you're hard as a rock. You not getting enough?"


"Bastard. How dare you?"

"You asked."

"You were supposed to say 'I'm getting more than enough. You just make me horny.'"

"Oh okay. I'm getting more than enough. You just make me horny."

"Sure, mock me, see if I care."

"Aw Andrew. You know I'm getting enough. I'm getting more than I deserve. And you do make me horny."

"You wanna come?"

"You keep that up much longer and I'm not going to have a choice. Yeah, bud. Keep going."

I continued stroking him inside his trunks. In a few moments, I felt his cum spill over my fist. I finished milking his dick, took my hand out of his trunks, and licked off his juice, sharing some of it with him.

He wanted to know what I wanted to do.

"Nothing. Just wanna be with you, beside you."

"No equity in that, at least as far as getting your rocks off."

"Who needs fair? You're enough to get my rocks off without me worrying about anything, Joe."

"How'd I ever find you anyway, bud?"

"Timing is everything. You love me, don't you Joe?"

"With all my heart."


I hadn't brought up Chris for a long time, since we talked that day on the Common. I wanted to know if he was okay about talking.


"Do I compare? Am I what you want?"

"No, you don't compare, because there isn't a comparison to be made, Andrew. Chris was Chris. You're who you are. You are what I want, and need. Are you trying to be like Chris to me?"

"Yeah, maybe. I'm afraid, Joe."

"Why man?"

"That I won't measure up to what you had."

He took my hand and put it on his chest. He held it there, watched it for a moment, and then looked at me.

"What do you feel, bud?"

"Your heart beating."

"Yeah, my heart beating, friend. You're the reason that it does beat again. I thought I'd be alone - wanted to be, until I met you, that is. I don't want to be alone. I want you. I want my heart to beat for you only. It does, bud. It beats just for you. Chris is there, but there's room for two. You're who I love."

"Joe, don't ever let go of Chris, especially because of me. He was your life. I don't how to be, yet. I'm learning, but I'm still afraid."

"I'll teach you, Andrew. It's okay to be afraid. When you kissed me the first time, I stopped being afraid. I wish I could tell you how much that first kiss meant to me."

"Tell me."

"Words won't do it."

"Show me."

"Let's go find a private spot, bud. I don't want to share you with the world, not in the way I want to love you."

We walked off the beach into a stand of trees. It was cool because the sun hadn't invaded the spot yet. Joe took me in both his arms and kissed me deeply. I held him too, with more than just my arms. My heart took his. I begged it to never let go.

"I was wrong in one thing, my bud. You are like Chris. He loved me unconditionally. He wasn't afraid of much. The way you hold me is the way he did. I like it. If you ever let me go, I'll die."

"I won't ever let you go. I don't care what happens to make me try to, but I won't. It's you, Joe, or nobody."

"I said the same thing, Andrew, about Chris. But you changed that. If something happened to me, you wouldn't be alone."

"I would. I promise you that. No one else would get inside my heart."

"That's not a promise, Andrew. That's a way to make you alone for a long time."

"Yeah. And I would be. If you die before me, Joe, I'll be alone. So don't die and make me have to follow through with that promise. It's how much I love you."

He kissed me warmly; no tongue. He held me against his chest until I really could feel his own heart beating against mine. I meant what I said, too. It's Joe, or no one, ever. I kissed him back, pushed my crotch into his, finding him hard again. No big surprise.

I knelt in front of him and pulled down his trunks. His cock sprung up and I immediately put it in my mouth, swallowing him whole. I sucked him as if I wanted him in my mouth forever. His flesh tasted like his lips, sweet and smooth. He held on to my head lightly with one hand. I put both my hands on his thighs and he put one hand on top of mine. I licked up and down the shaft, teased the head, and then moved down and sucked each of his balls into my mouth. I rolled them around and played with them gently with my tongue. I put one finger up against his ass and then slid it inside him, massaging his prostate. He moaned.

I looked up at his face as I worked on his dick. He smiled down at me, then threw his head back and unloaded into my mouth. I lapped and swallowed, tasting the thick cream on my tongue and letting it slide down my throat. I continued to suck him as he softened. I didn't want to let go of his cock. He was most sensitive right now and I liked to tease his semi-softness after he came.

He bent over and pulled me to my feet. He kissed me some more, then turned me around and put both his arms around my chest. We watched the waves roll in as he whispered into my ear.

"I love you Andrew. You make me live again."

I turned my head and smiled at him. He kissed me before I could tell him I loved him too. He didn't have to hear it. He knew. He held me from behind and we kissed for long moments, the breeze cooling down our hot bodies. He slid his hand into my trunks and massaged my cock to full firmness. I got him off, now he wanted to get me off.

Joe and I lay down in the sand among the trees. I spread my legs and lay back on my elbows again. He lay between my legs and licked at my balls, imitating my motions as he rolled them very gently in his mouth. I don't think I'd trust anyone else with my balls. They were very sensitive to the touch, especially to Joe's. If I were in the right mood, I could come hard just from him playing or licking my balls. But he knew this too and went to work on my cock instead. His finger found its way inside me, to the spongy softness of my prostate. He knew how to work it so that my cock would stand at full attention. Before he finished sucking me off, he lay me flat on my back and entered me smoothly with his stiffness. I couldn't believe that he was hard again.

"Joe, you really aren't getting enough man, not if you can get three erections in less than a half hour. We got to take care of you more often."


He smirked at me. I knew he liked the attention. So did I. We wouldn't argue, ever, about sex. He slid inside me fully, then pulled out half way, then eased back inside. He found his rhythm in a few strokes and gently and smoothly fucked my ass at the pleasure of us both, equally. Joe didn't give or take in a one-sided manner. If he came, he made sure I did too. He cared as much about my own pleasure as his. He said that he had a mini-orgasm inside when he saw me getting off. I understood that. He taught me about sex and love, giving, taking, and mutual pleasure. He was right, too.

He wasn't in a hurry to come again, so he took his time. I wrapped my legs around his body as he fucked me. He licked my Adam's apple and kissed me deeply as he filled me up. When he was ready to come again, he wrapped his arms around me and drew me up slightly off my back. He slid all the way inside me and shot inside me, holding me while I held him. As he finally withdrew from me, he went back down on my cock and sucked me eagerly for another ten minutes. He rolled my balls under the palm of my hand, ate out my ass, licked me from balls to cock head, and then swallowed me as I shot a creamy hot load into his mouth. He swallowed it all and then cleaned up my dick. He lay on top of me and we held each other for a half hour, listening to the sounds around us.

We stowed my wet clothes in the back of my truck. I spread out my jeans and rolled down the rear window so the breeze and the sun would dry them off. We headed up the beach, to the north and walked until there was no more land. We sat on the point, alone, the breeze blowing strongly over us. The gulls rose and fell with the breeze. We'd found a large sea shell and took turns holding it, listening to the sea in its innards.

"Andrew, is it okay to tell you that I miss Chris?"

"Yeah, bud. Tell me what's on your mind."

"I thought about him last night. That's why I was a little surprised that you mentioned him earlier."

"I mentioned him earlier because I knew you thought about him last night. You tend to be restless when Chris is on your mind. I wish you didn't have to know what life without him is like."

"Life without my Chris is life with you, my bud. You filled the hole."

"But you hurt a lot for him."

"Because of how he died. It must have been painful to live a few minutes after the accident, his rib poking into his heart. The thought of that brings me to terror. But I can't stop thinking about it. I puked up in the car Andrew. I saw the young man hit our windshield and I threw up without realizing I was doing it. I almost choked to death on my own vomit."

"I'm sorry for you, bud. You must have been terrorized by everything. You knew what happened? You were aware?"

"Yeah. I knew we were going to get hit. I saw the boy get thrown out of his windshield and hit ours. For a moment there was nothing but blood on the windshield. I saw Chris' face. He was afraid. I wonder if he knew he was going to die in a few minutes? I didn't know anything about how he was injured, except there was blood running out of his mouth. When I took his hand it was so cold. But I couldn't let go. I didn't want him to die without knowing I loved him. I couldn't speak; I tried. So I held his hand until he died."

"Dear God. Joe, how did you stand it?"

"I didn't. I finally passed out. My brain shut down and protected me from any more. But I'd seen enough. I'll never forget what I saw. It had to have happened in a matter of mere moments, but it didn't feel like it. I felt like the world was running in slow motion."

I held on to him. I put my left arm around his back and I put my right hand on his chin and turned him toward me. I kissed him because he made me know that life was so short and it could be taken in a moment. I couldn't possibly take Joe for granted. I knew that he had been well taken care of when he was hurt. His brother and Chris' brother had taken him and held him close. Could I do the same if he was ever sick, or hurt? I hoped so. I didn't ever want to be tested though. I thought, without really knowing, that to take care of someone you loved would be very hard.

We held hands. He looked into my eyes and smiled at me. I knew what he was thinking. The smile wasn't false. He hurt for Chris, but he wanted me to know, every moment, that he loved me too. He could love two. He wouldn't love me less than he did Chris because he gave willingly.

Joe turned and faced me. He put his butt between my legs and moved close to me, his arms around me. I reached to hold him. He kissed me with tears in his eyes.

"Andrew I don't want you to think I'm going to be afraid all my life."

"I don't think that, bud. I think that you'll have your moments of sadness. When you do, hold me. Talk to me. If you shut me out, I'll never know what's on your mind."

"I won't shut you out, my bud. I'll love you every hour, no matter what. I do love you, right here."

He touched my chest. Then he kissed it gently. He returned to my lips and kissed me some more. The world around me went away. All I could feel, taste, and smell was my Joe. He put his head on my shoulder. I felt a tear hit the top of my chest. I held him closer, if it were possible, and let him have his time of sadness. He trusted me enough to tell me he hurt. That said "I love you" more than words ever would.

"He's with you, Joe. You do know that don't you?"

He nodded. He sobbed softly in my arms. I couldn't let go if a thousand men came to drag me away from Joe. I kissed his neck. I held his head in mine and then I raised it off my shoulder. I held his chin in my left hand and I kissed Joe on his forehead, on his eyes, pecked gently at his nose, touched his lips ever so gently with mine, kissed both cheeks tenderly, and kissed his throat. He put his head back on my shoulders.

"Andrew, there is life for us, and a good one, too. We'll spend it like this forever if we can."

"We can. We'll make sure. You're inside me, Joe, in every way that counts."

"How come you are okay to talk about Chris? Aren't past loves taboo?"

"I'm okay to talk because you love him, Joe."

"Loved, Andrew ... in the past."

"No, Joe. I can't believe that, not when I feel your tears running down my chest. You love him Joe, in the present and as strongly as you did while he was alive."

"No Andrew ..."

"Yes Joe. I know."

"But I want to love you more."

"Love me as much Joe and I'll be happy all my life."

"I don't want to be sad for Chris like this."

"It's good for you to be, bud. It means he really did mean all you ever told him. There's nothing wrong with that. I don't care that he's in here. I'm glad he is, still. Is there room for us both in there?"

"Yes. There's plenty of room. If you don't mind being beside him."

"I'm glad to be. Joe?"


"I love you. Don't ever forget."

"You might have to tell me every day," he said.

"I will."

"You're my bud. I will love you forever. Don't have any doubts about that."

"I do."

"Don't. Nothing is going to take us apart," he told me.

"Except ..."

"Until then, I will love you forever Andrew. I mean it."

"I know."

He held me. He rubbed my back. He kissed me and smiled at me. I didn't fear much. I know Joe believed what he told me and it made me warm all over. We sat at the point of land, on Wellfleet, on Cape Code, at Cape Cod Bay, in the state of Massachusetts, part of the US, North America, planet Earth, and the universe. I felt significant, even pulling all the way back to the far reaches of space. Joe said I was significant. I had no doubts, not any that mattered.

The sun set while we held each other. The night sky was clear and bright, the stars twinkling in place or shooting across the sky. There were no noises, not the type we were used to. The night symphony on the Cape was different than it was inland. The waves rolled in and out. The gulls cried out as they searched for food. That's the only two sounds of the night.

We walked back to my truck and sat inside, listening to the radio. We arrived at our guest house by 10:30. We were staying with two friends of mine, a married couple, from Boston. They came to celebrate my 30th birthday and then were leaving the house to Joe and me for the week. It was Saturday, October 1, 1994. My birthday was on Monday.

Deb and Casey gave us both a hug and offered up some tea. We sat in front of the fireplace and caught up. Casey was a good man; we'd known each other for almost five years by now. Deb was the only woman he ever looked at, as far as I know. They were having their first child in March, around Joe's birthday.

They took off for bed at midnight since we were getting up early to go deep sea fishing at dawn. Joe and I weren't tired yet, so we sat and held each other in front of the fire. I leaned back in a beanbag chair and Joe leaned against me, his back to my chest. I put my hand on his chest and played with his nipples. He moaned softly. He reached his hand behind my head and turned to kiss me. I moved my hand up to his shoulder, pulling him to me. We finally dozed off right where we were.

Casey touched me on the shoulder and shook me gently. He tousled Joe's hair.

"Come on guys, the fish are waiting on us. No dawdling now."

At day's end, we had seven fish between us. Deb had the cook's touch so we sat around the kitchen counter while she breaded and baked up the fish. Joe stood and cut up tomatoes and onions. I had a glass of wine sitting beside me while I grated fresh carrots from the garden. Casey was setting up CDs, the designated DJ for the evening. Sitting on the counter, out of my reach, was a home made (yeah, from scratch no less) German Chocolate cake. I tried a couple of times to sneak a piece but Deb protected it like a momma bear protects her young. She wouldn't let me within a foot of it. She teased me and told me that she even put a layer of strawberry preserves, that her grandmother had made, between the three layers. I pouted. It didn't work. I gave her "The Face", full force. She seemed immune. I tried to get Casey to give her "The Face" but he couldn't do it like I could, so he too failed. On top of that, Deb said that I must clean up everything on my plate and help with the dishes before I got any cake.

Well. I guess that means I'm on my best behavior tonight. But I also know that the birthday boy gets the leftover cake to take home.

On Sunday night, Deb and Casey headed back for Boston. They lived in the western suburbs like I used to. The house is ours for the whole week and we won't be driving home to PA until a week from today. It's costing us only $400 for the week. That's why I make friends ... well, that's a small reason why I make friends. I've never spent this much time on the Cape. It's one of the best places to be off season. During the summer it's too touristy. We're going to get out to Nantucket this week as well. I've never been. On the other hand, Joe and I may just make out all week. We're not far from the edge of the water so Joe and I go outside and sit on the beach. It's past midnight, but we're not tired yet. He sits down and spreads his legs, telling me to sit between them, facing out. He's against a tree trunk on the sand. I lean against his chest and he wraps his arms around me. He puts his hands under my sweatshirt and rubs my chest slowly. I love his touch. He kisses my neck and bites my ear lobes gently. I close my eyes and he eventually closes his. No one is around for miles. The summer crowd is gone and we feel like we're here alone. We got a blanket. Joe wraps it around us to keep us warm and we fall asleep while he holds me close.

The sun rise wakes us. There will be no alarm clock for the week. I lean my head back. Joe's been awake for a while because his eyes are clear. Mine are foggy, trying to shake the sleep out of them. He holds my head and kisses me.

"You sitting there watching me sleep again?"

"I had to. Your face is angelic, bud. I get the biggest thrill out of watching you sleep. You're peaceful to watch. You do my heart good, Andrew."

"It's not your heart I'm thinking about Joe."

"Well then, we better go inside."

"Thought you'd never ask."

When he walked inside, we stripped off our clothes and lay in front of the fireplace. I entered Joe as he lay on his back. He wrapped his legs around my shoulders and I bent him in half. I slid effortlessly inside him, filling him up, making my dick harder with each thrust. He watched my face intently, not even smiling. We weren't normally so serious, but this wasn't just fooling around either. This was my time on the stage, to please Joe and me too. He liked equal. He couldn't take, fairly, unless he gave back. He clenched his ass around my dick as I drew out, and eased it open just enough when I slid back in. I found my rhythm in just the first three strokes. I didn't smile either. I watched Joe watch me. I kissed the light fuzz on his legs. When I was close, I slowed down and buried my cock to the hilt. I left it inside him as we kissed. He held me close and wrapped his legs around my back to hold me in place.

"I love your dick in me, my friend. You're good at making me feel good. You seem to know just what it takes."

"I do, Joe. I know exactly what you like. I learn every time you let me touch you. Nice and slow, easy and relaxed. I like it just the way you do. The very first time you ever fucked me, I knew what you wanted. You don't ask much."

"I don't have to ask, love. You give, and not with just your dick. I know how much you love me every time you hold me. I see and feel where your hands go. Your hands make love to me as much as anything else."

I picked up my pace again. I moved in concert with the flames in the fireplace. Each time they danced, I slid inside Joe's tight muscle ring. I massaged his prostate with my cock, feeling his ass tightly encircle me and swallow me whole. I tried not to pump into him faster when I started to come. He knew I was filling his ass with my load, but I wanted to keep the pace that he liked. It wasn't easy, but I watched his face instead of thinking about my cock. In there were all the clues as to what my Joe wanted. When I was spent, I lie fully on top of him and let him hold me until my breathing returned to normal. I gave him all my cum; there was no more today.

"Don't move Joe. Just hold me. I don't need anything else right now."

"Andrew, what have I told you about sharing?"

"You are sharing Joe. I don't have to have your cock this minute. We got all night. If you love me, kiss me and hold me close."

"You know I love you, without reservation."

"Prove it Joe," I said with a slight smile on my face.

He gave me light bites on my lower lip. He held my head in both his hands and kissed my eye lids. I put my head back and he sucked on my Adam's apple. He bit my ear lobe on the right, nibbling it between his teeth, gently. He held my face in his right hand. I was massaging his dick, squeezing it, making him hard. He kissed me on the mouth again as I jacked him. I raised myself up and then sat down on his cock. He eased it inside of me. I smiled as I thought "ride 'em cowboy" to myself. I slid up and down on Joe as he eased the length of his cock into me. He held on to me as he put me on my back. He took my legs and put them over his shoulders. He entered me completely and established his rhythm. Joe wasn't "slick Joe .. fuck 'em and leave 'em". He loved my ass, but he loved the whole of me as much. I was bent completely in half. He put his hands on both my legs and held me down as he slid into me. When he was past the point of no return, he stayed slow and steady. He threw his head back and unloaded inside me, his cum lubricating his cock even more. When he pulled out, his replaced his dick with this tongue, eating out my ass, leaving me clean the way he found it.

He took a couple pillows that were beside the sofa and moved them near the fire. He lay down against them, then I lay against his chest, on my stomach, my crotch to his. We kissed until we dozed off. He held me in his arms all night, making me safe and secure.

I thought about that week on the Cape. I filled my jeans with an incredible load of cream. I went to shower after I cleaned up my cum. Wayne was arriving just as I got out of the shower. I heard him call from the living room.

"In the bathroom man."

He came in to sit on the edge of the tub as I toweled off and then shaved. The day was hot already, at barely 10:00 a.m. He came out to sit on the bed as I got dressed. I opted for a pair of Gap shorts and a bright red T-shirt with my favorite Reebok sneakers. He had jeans on, because of his leg, and an X-Files T-shirt.

Wayne wore one kind of sneaker - Nike. He had three pair, all in various stages of use. When his prosthetic was made, they matched his shoe size exactly. The leg was custom shaped and cost a bloody fortune, but he didn't pay for it. Wayne was on a guinea pig program through the National Institutes of Health in Washington. 90% of his health care was provided through them, even the cancer treatments he received. The drugs he is on are shipped weekly and administered by an NIH staff person. His leg was provided by the government, as was his kidney transplant in March of '97. We talked about that at length one Wednesday afternoon recently.

"I think I know, but for the sake of my journal readers, tell me about it. How did you ever find out that your kidney was failing?"

"I had three kidney infections in the course of five months. I passed blood and my back ached even worse than it does with the back injury."

"What was happening?"

"The cancer had metastasized from my leg and hip into soft tissue. My kidney basically was being eaten alive. The NIH had been on the outlook for a kidney for me from early on in the problem. Ideally it would have been nice to come from family."

"But your folks are both gone. No family to get a donation from?"

"No. It was like walking a tight rope to get one, not to mention all that would go one when we did."

"So where did it come from? And when?"

"When was a few days after my birthday, March 1997. I woke in the middle of the night in such distress that I called 911 to come and get me. I made it to the front door to unlock it but I thought I was going to die long before they got here. The local hospital did their thing but I had to be shipped off to DC pronto. A helicopter took me. I arrived two hours before my kidney did. A young man had fallen in a construction accident and was killed. His parents donated his organs, at his own bequest. The only reason I'm alive today is because of him. I barely held on long enough. Doc said that when he took my kidney out, it collapsed in his hand."

"So why the urgency? We can get by on one kidney right?"

"Yeah. But I had only one."

"Huh? I didn't know that."

"It's not something one tends to bring up in casual conversation. My right kidney was crushed and punctured when Katie and I got hit. I lost it that night."

"So you were living on one ... that was being eaten by the cancer."


"Are you a devil child or what? Did you murder someone to deserve such punishment?"

"Only in my mind."

"Damn, bud, I didn't know that you were so ... "

"Blessed? I have to think of it that way. I don't know why I'm alive."

"To plague me?"

"Well, naturally, but there has to be more to my life. I could do that in my sleep for crying out loud."


"Oh I love when you talk dirty to me. Do it again."

"Bastard! Asshole!"

"More, more. Ugghhh, that's so nice."

"Get your ass out the door. We're gonna be late."

"How about we stay home. I haven't had it this good in years."

He laughed heartily. God, the man could tease me and be completely believable.

I was made the official designated chef du jour at our friends house. It was 90+ degrees outside. No one but me was foolish enough to stand over a hot grill in high heat and humidity. Okay, so I'm not known for my common sense. But I was known for my cooking ability. The ribs that I had brought from home were just right. They'd been marinating for three days. Burgers, hot dogs, chicken, ribs, veggie skewers, shrimp, corn on the cob, baked potatoes, salads, fruits, desserts ... a feast to last a week, never mind a day. It was an exceptional day with friends. Kids crawled all over me (despite the terror of one mother who worried more about my back than I could), we ate ourselves into oblivion, we danced around in the back yard, and we laughed with high spirits. One of our friends piped up and mentioned Joe. He raised a wine glass, telling all that even though we were gathered in great friendship here that Joe should be thought about too. The crew knew that I had pulled myself away from Joe today. I wouldn't last year, despite much encouragement to take a day to myself. We also toasted to Joe's life and health. I would tell him when I got back to him that he was remembered today.

July 7th

After three days of 100+ degrees and 1000% humidity, we got a hot but dry day, with something close enough to a breeze that it would suffice to be called that. I worked half a day as usual. Wayne had been in the men's room throwing up this afternoon when I arrived at work. Tuesday's treatment hung on. The anti-nausea meds the doc gave him weren't working. I stood and waited for him. He came out of the stall and splashed cold water on his face at the sink. No one else had been around. I walked back to his cubicle with him. I looked at his face. He was so pale. We sat together and worked on a demo that I was going to give my class on Thursday and Friday.

I went with Wayne for my radiation session, and then we went to Taco Bell for get something that we could split.

"Were you sick again this afternoon?"

"Yeah, once more. My stomach is empty. I ended up with dry heaves the last time because I didn't eat breakfast or lunch today."

"What's next then, if the anti-nausea stuff won't work?"

"Maybe it just needs time to get into my system. I've only been on the new stuff a day."

"I have to tell you honestly that I'm really dreading the start of chemo. I see you so sick, but I still don't know what it feels like."

"You've had the flu before?"


"Kinda like that, worse, but flu-like."

"I'm glad you not telling me that it'll just be all right."

"I won't lie to you, Andrew. It won't be all right. This is hell. But it passes."

"How do you stand knowing that you have to do it all again tomorrow and that you'll be sick into the weekend?"

"Like the Nike commercial - just do it."

"Because you don't have a choice."

"I got a choice all right; have chemo and hope I live, or don't have it and know I'll die."

"But you didn't make the choice."

"Yeah I did. I could say no to the treatments. So can you. But I know you won't. For one thing, I'll be there for you like you are for me. It's more bearable when someone holds you while you're sick. When October comes, if you can see that far ahead, know that you'll be fine. That's a belief you need to have."

"But what if I'm not. It only means the treatments begin again."

"Mine did."

"I don't find much comfort in that thought, Wayne. It scares me silly, and all I'm doing now is radiation."

"But I care for you Andrew. That's the difference. I want it to be enough for you to know you won't be alone."

"I hope so too."

"Andrew. If you doubt it, I love you. You know what I mean by that?"

"That you're my friend."

"That I care for you, all of you."

"That you enjoy spending time with me."

"That you are a good friend, a good buddy."

"That it's nice to be together, wherever we are."

"That fear goes away, even if a little."

"That you will let me be honest with you, even to say I'm scared."

"That all you have to do is call me, anytime you want me."

"That you're in my heart. And that I'm in yours."


"Then I love you too, Wayne."

He smiled. He'd made me understand.

We went back to Wayne's place after we watched the sun set across the river. We settled in for a while while he did E-mail and I wrote on my laptop. The air felt good while we were standing outside on his balcony so we decided to walk around the neighborhood despite the dizziness that plagued me from the treatment today. I took more than my fair share of the fresh air, having felt deprived of it for days.

July 8th -- A day to end all in recent history. I had a call from my doc today at work (that's not ever a good sign). We have to step up my radiation treatments because the MRI (from a couple or more weeks ago) showed that the tumor has attached itself to my spinal cord, not just to the vertebrae and tissue, as they would think. I have to go for blood work first thing Friday a.m. and a third radiation treatment sometime in the a.m.

The last chemo bothered him right through Sunday, though Sunday was more like having 'only' the flu. The second one of the week knocks him squarely on his butt. He knew having one later in the week last week was going to be a killer for the weekend. The 4th of July holiday had made his chemo routine consist of Tuesday and Thursday instead of Monday and Wednesday. One of our E-mail friends asked him how does he get 'up' for the next one.

"I don't. I dread it thoroughly", came his reply.

He got the results of his bone marrow checkup from Friday on the following Monday. He explains it this way.

"The cell count, which is supposed to be X (to keep it generic) is about 2400 times X. At the beginning of spring, I was 7000 times X. When I first was diagnosed with cancer, it was over 600,000 times X. At the point I lost my leg to the cancer, the counts were in excess of 1,000,000 times X. If we reach only 500 times X, I could be considered in remission. Here's hoping ... (which makes chemo WAY more bearable, by the way)."

Wednesday, after his second treatment, we were getting things picked up after a light dinner. He had seemed a little antsy all evening. He stood by the stereo, flipping through stations, trying to find one playing music. He looked outside the window to the west. He looked at me, standing against a wall watching him. He went into the kitchen and puttered around. He came back to the stereo after a few minutes because the kitchen wasn't going to get any cleaner. He stood and fooled with the dials and buttons, adjusting the tone and bass and surround sound. He turned and faced the window again. Suddenly the flood came. He held his arms tightly to his chest. I stepped to him and he shook his head gently, telling me to let him be. In almost five years of friendship I had never seen my friend cry. He sobbed hard, tears welling in his eyes, overflowing his cheeks, and dripping to the floor. I stepped closer anyway. I reached my right hand to his face and held his head gently in my hand. He shook as if he was cold. I wanted badly to hold him. He turned around, his back to me, continuing to hold his arms tightly against his chest. I stood behind him, touched his shoulder, then eased closer, putting my arms around his, holding him close against me. He couldn't stop crying. Everything hurt; everything was wrong. I put my right cheek on his back.

"The pain? In your leg?"

He nodded slowly.


"Everything. All of it."

Chemo, nauseated stomach, back ache (throwing up fiercely while your back was healing from surgery was painful - I know) ... headache, missing his Kate, life alone, trying to be there for me and for Joe, working ... it overwhelmed him.

"I care for you, friend."

"I know."

"I love you," I told him, meaning it, not just pitying him.

"I know. You're the reason I put up with what I do."

I didn't know that. He'd never told me that before.

"You're stronger than I am, man, by far," I said.

"Not even close. I couldn't do what you do for Joe."

"Yes you could. If Joe were your love, you would. If Katie had lived, you would."

"No one did for me. Not like you and Joe."

"You weren't alone."

"But no one spent 18 hours a day with me either."

"It's hard to do," I said.

"You do it."

"I owe him."


"I love him."


"I can love you, too. Not the same way, maybe. But with my heart, with my friendship, time with you, working with you ..."


I held him. We didn't talk for another half hour. We stood in the middle of the living room floor. His hands eventually released themselves from his chest and he held both my hands. He didn't tell me he loved me back. He didn't have to. My friend's actions spoke for him. He would not let me hold him, this way, if he did not trust me. He took me to his room. He lay behind me, once again in my favorite position. His body against mine was warm, comforting. His arms were around my chest, and I held his hands. Eventually he fell asleep. I kissed his cheek softly. My friend, who never cried in front of me before, finally slept peacefully.

Wayne told me on Friday that he thought he had a cracked rib. He went to get it X-rayed on Saturday. It is indeed cracked. It was originally broken in his car accident (along with several others). This particular rib has been cracked twice before. To do such damage to one self only shows how bad the nausea can be.

My hand is holding Joe's. I'm in a straight-backed chair that is supposedly good for my back, with a cushion that Margie brought me from home. I'm not supposed to be the one who is taken care of here. Joe's the patient. I'm the friend, unimportant and in the background. At least that was my intent. The nurses have not let me remain there. So anyway, I hold my Joe's hand. I sit and close my eyes, thinking about him and trying to urge him out of the coma. It's past 10:00 p.m. according to my watch. I probably should listen to my body and rest, but I'll just toss and turn if I try now.

Then, suddenly, I feel a small movement. I relax my hand just to make sure I wasn't imagining it. As I watch, Joe wraps his hand around mine, firmly. I encircle his gently. He squeezes mine again. I look up at his face as I kiss his hand. His eyes are wide open and he stares at the ceiling, getting his orientation back. He turns his head toward the right, to face me. I take the respirator off his face and he smiles at me so wide that I know he's back. He knows me.

"Joe? You okay my love."

He can't talk yet. His throat must be sore from the respirator. He nods. I lean forward and kiss him on his lips lightly. He kisses me back.

"You know who I am? Where we are?"

He nods. "...drew", he manages. I lie against him and continue to kiss my Joe. He puts his right arm around me and I settle in on my side, snuggling up against his body. I touch his face. I take his hand in mine and I watch as he holds it, squeezes it gently, reacting to my touch. I lean forward and I kiss his naked chest lightly. I keep my head on his chest and listen to his heart beat. He strokes my face with his hand.

"...drew. Missed you..."

"I know Joe. You've been away from me for a couple months. Do you hurt?"

He nods.


"My heart. For you."

"Joe. Ah man, I just want to take you home. I wish we could go now."

"Soon. Love you ... Andrew, Andrew, Andrew . . ." and his voice fades away into the night.

I hear the sound of the respirator.

I look at my watch. It's 4:21 a.m. Joe is laying on his back, still. He hasn't moved in months. The respirator breathes steadily in and out for him. The monitor lights all glow softly in the darkness. A tear flows down my cheek as I realize that I was dreaming.

"Come back to me Joe. Please come back to me."

Joe's time here might as well be back to day one. I sometimes feel that we'll be here into our next lifetime. I hate this place. To go home is only part of the dream.

One of my E-mail friends asked me yesterday (July 27th) if the docs had given me a prognosis. This was my reply:

Yeah. It sucks. This type of cancer has a 7% survival rate over 5 years. It's aggressive and very malevolent. The fact that it's on my spinal chord makes my chances of long-term survival (5 years +) only 2%. But then again, I don't give a shit what percentage they put on me because I'm Andrew. Fuck 'em!

Time to wrap up this chapter. These are lyrics from a song I like a lot. This is by Celine Dion, from her "Let's Talk About Love" CD. If you like Celine, and don't have this CD, buy it! It's great. With a couple of minor word changes, this is for Joe, from his Andrew:

Take me, back into the arms I love
Need me, like you did before
Touch me once again
And remember when
There was no one that you wanted more

Don't go, you know you will break my heart
She won't, love you like I will
I'm the one who'll stay
When she walks away
And you know I'll be standing here still

I'll be waiting for you
Here inside my heart
I'm the one who wants to love you more
You will see I can give you
Everything you need
Let me be the one to love you more

See me, as if you never knew
Hold me, so you can't let go
Just believe in me
I will make you see
All the things that your heart needs to know

I'll be waiting for you
Here inside my heart
I'm the one who wants to love you more
Can't you see I can give you
Everything you need
Let me be the one to love you more And some way, all the love that we had can be saved
Whatever it takes, we'll find a way

I'll be waiting for you
Here inside my heart
I'm the one who wants to love you more
Can't you see I can give you
Everything you need
Let me be the one to love you more

To be continued . . .