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I hear his wide nostrils sniffle to catch the tears before they drip into
his mouth. Tano doesn't like the taste of salt. I yell from bed, "Are you
crying?" I get out of bed and switch the living room light. I am cold but all my
clothes are dirty, or spinning on permanent press. Tano's warm in dirty clothes
which I've told him not to wear to bed, but now it doesn't matter: Tano cries on
the sofa. Tears form pools by his nose. He needs a haircut and sometimes, when I'm masturbating, I remember what it feels like to masturbate when you have to—not just because you want to—and I think maybe I miss living alone: knowing what'll happen each night, each time in bed. I like my job now, too. And it's such a distraction to have Tano to come home to. I could see thinking that way if I needed to. If Tano actually dumped me for telling you about Madlyn. I get out of bed in case I can do anything. Tano stops sniffling long enough to tell me I've betrayed him. I say I'm sorry I betrayed him by talking about the information he betrayed Madlyn by telling. I watch a tear fall down his cheek, dodge whiskers, miss his ear and hit the pillow. At this point the sofa's probably mine again. I don't want him messing it up. I don't want to think this way. I want to get in a new relationship as soon as I can, so I can be sure that I can be nice to someone. Tano cries. I read once that you get a mate who is equal to you in social development. Like there is not just one crazy person in a relationship because the person who stays with the crazy person is crazy too.
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