I had to ask. I didn't want to, but I had to ask. "Did they give you a prognosis?" Good," he said. "Better than fifty percent. Well, what the Doc said...was 'well better than fifty percent'. You know those guys, they won't put a better number on it. But it's not one of the more virulent strains of leukemia, and they caught it early."He was optimistic. Chipper, even. Me? Death. That's all I could think about. I'm seventeen years old, looking at the man I love, and thinking about death.I couldn't. He played it very cautious with me, occasionally making slight sexual suggestions but nothing serious. One day Bill asked me if I would attend a rock concert with him. Despite the age difference, I agreed to go. He showed up in a nice car, a Lexus I think, wearing a dress shirt, tie and loose fitting dress pants. At the concert, I saw a couple of my friends and it was obvious that they were scoffing at me for going out with a man twice my age. I did not care; he was polite, handsome, and not. More

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