Well, not my whole name. Just the first letter. Over his heart, made of barbed wire and roses (my middle name). For a year and a half I didn't see him. Then, on a gray Monday, my next-door neighbor flew seven stories down the face of a building.

I worried for the friends I had abandoned and I called him. He visited last month and we made love. Afterward, he wanted to know why we couldn't be together anymore. I told him I loved him because he kept saying it. I told him it wouldn't work. We slept a few hours before he drove back to my former home and his words to me as he left were bitter.

I invited him to visit again (he's an incredible lover). He took off his shirt and there it was. Accusation, obsession, a refusal to understand. Maybe he thought it would win me back, this grand gesture. I'm touched, but I'm wrong to tease him, aware of how he feels. I am an awful person. More than anything, I'll miss the sex.