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Kazan and I wrapping our arms around eachothers shoulder, smiling like brothers in victory wereimmortalized in a photograph that was anchored to mydesk for entirely too long. I debated for months overmoving the picture out of my site. Once, I even took itto the paper shredder only to change my mind at thelast minute. Then there were days I would lovinglygaze at the image. In the end, I was convinced that

allowing it to stare me down day in and day out was detrimental to my health.

The picture was taken on a warm aturday in

!ugust on the beach behind Kazans home on "ongIsland. #e had invited me over to thank me for beinghis right$hand man during a tough time, his wifes

pregnancy. The night before I spent hours in front ofthe mirror trying on different outfits, and almost thesame amount of time deliberating over which cologneto wear.

On the way to Kazans place, the ".I.%.%. out of

&rand 'entral Terminal was virtually empty, and asthe city and its trees started to go by in a blur, Kazanoccupied my mind, as he often did. I should say thisnow( )y relationship with Kazan has always been

platonic, but there was an intimacy I would like to believe was shared. I never had the nerve to ask if thatwas the case, though. I could only work off of clues,like the melody in his voice when he said my *okes

werent funny, but laughed at them anyway+ how henever got angry at me when I snatched a cigarette outof his mouth warning him it wasnt a healthy way tokill the stress+ or how he felt comfortable enough to letme shop for his black hair die and pick up his anti$depressants from the pharmacy while his wife was in

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the hospital.I worked for Kazan as a secretary at a small law

firm in downtown )anhattan. I was thirty, and he wasabout four years older, which is probably why we sawmuch of life through the same lens. #e never likedhanging out with the other attorneys. )ost of themwere older. #e called them stuffy.- everal times amonth, he would take me to lunch, and when I wouldtry to pay, he would give me back my credit card andsay, I can only imagine what those cheapskates are

paying you.-It always struck me how free he was with his

money, especially when it came to me. or my birthday he brought me two tickets to see "eontyne/rice at the )etropolitan Opera. 0ut when my datecanceled, he offered to go. #e fell asleep halfwaythrough, but apologized when he woke up. )ake itup to me over drinks,- I said. o, we went to a nearby

bar. I ordered a Tom 'ollin and Kazan called me awus. #e ordered some lager I couldnt pronounce. Ienvied the glass that touched his lips. Im not a beerdrinker, but when Kazan said the lager was off thecharts,- I feigned interest, and he let me drink a bitfrom his glass. 1hen we left the bar, Kazan remindedme to en*oy the holiday weekend. 2ever had I wantedto go work so badly. I spent the entire weekendchecking my voicemail, hoping he needed me to comein to the office suddenly.

I could listen to Kazan talk about everything from basketball to particles on the moon, but when theconversation turned to attractive women, I could feel myeyelids drop. The worst being when we ate in the parkacross from the office, and, inevitably, a pretty woman in

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a tight dress would prance by. It didnt matter if I was inmid$sentence, Kazan would rudely turn his head awayfrom me to follow the high heels or the switching assdown the street. Once, while his eyes chased a set of legs,I sucked in my stomach, but when I recognized thefutility of it all, I unclenched my abdominals and swore Iwould hit the gym in the morning, but I never bothered inthe end.

On nights when we stayed late at the office, itwas easy for us to loosen our ties and get honest aboutliving. #e knew that I liked men, and he said it wasnever a problem with him. ometimes, he would askme, ound )r. %ight, yet3- !nd I would say, 2oteven close.- One of those nights he told me he and"inda had a baby girl on the way. I congratulated him,of course. 0ut he paused, and then said, &onna beone hell of a ride.-

4ou dont seem happy.-he tricked me, 5avid.-Tricked you3-he was supposed to be on the pill.-

I didnt know what to say after hearing that.Im thinking of filing for divorce.-I should have never been happy to hear a thing

like this, but a will inside of me with a mind of its ownwas hell bent on making this divorce a reality.

1ell you should file for divorce,- I said. 1hatkind of evil woman would do something like that3-

0ut, later that night, unable to sleep, I calledKazan and begged him not to rush into anything.

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Kazan told me to hang on to his waist and not to let go. The

ocean was playful that afternoon, and the *et ski was a leaping

frog as it skipped across the smaller waves. 1hen the larger

waves smacked, sending us soaring, and I feared we might hang

in the sky forever, I s6ueezed Kazan and placed my head

against his back and closed my eyes as tight as I could. 5espite

my fear, it was a thrill to be so close to him. #e felt sturdier

than the machine between our legs. I worried about my erection

though. I tried to put some space between us, but that was

impossible in that frisky ocean that tossed us around like

flotsam.

It was the first time I had seen him without a shirt. His body

held on to the echo of an athlete who dedicated hours to a gym

lifting dumbbells and bench pressing all so he could ram into

other men on a football field or toss and turn with them on a

wrestling mat.

Of course I had touched Kazan in the past; I may have brushed

into him a few times in the narrow aisles of the file room, or

our hands would skim as I was passing him a letter, but they

were always moments of pure torture because of their mean

brevity. ow, to be able to hold him close, while the will of the

sea knocked our bodies together, made me feel like a bit of thief

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in plain sight.