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letter that because of the patients’ constant need of assistance, I will not be able to leave the asylum for the next twelve months.
    I told this to Richard when he surprised me with a visit today. When I opened my front door to greet him, he looked awful, with an unshaven face and messy hair. The whites of his eyes were slightly reddened, and his clothes were disheveled. I swore he’d worn that white shirt the other night—had he changed or bathed, I wondered?  Initially, I feared the worst—Claire had told him what had happened between us.
    But Richard confessed he was simply distressed about what he had done to Claire.
    “Can’t believe I hurt her,” he said as he plopped on the sofa in my drawing room, the same one on which Claire and I lustfully embraced just a couple nights before. “I hadn’t the slightest idea until the next morning. I didn’t even remember that you’d helped me onto the sofa.”
    I tried to concentrate on his words. I wanted to shout at him and be angry, but my mind was full of its own anguish. I wanted him to get up from the sofa. I could not bear to be in that room with him any longer. Overwhelming guilt flowed through my veins. My heart beat quickly, and I began to sweat, so I hurried to the cupboard to open a new bottle of brandy. I poured a glass for Richard and a glass for me.
     “Here…drink this,” I said, handing Richard his glass.
    As I gulped down the contents of my glass, Richard watched me with a look of disapproval.
    “You’re drinking, Paul?” Richard asked me inquisitively in a hoarse voice as he studied me intently. “Should I be worried?”
    I could not help but laugh. Of all the people to be concerned about my drinking, Richard hardly seemed fit.
    “Trust me, Richard, it’s not what you think,” I said pouring a second glass.
    I could feel the sweat on my brow now as a knot welled in my throat, and I contemplated telling Richard what had happened. No. I wouldn’t betray Claire like that. I did not know what Richard would do to her if he knew. Or worse, what he would do to me. Still, I did have something to say to him. I drew in a deep breath.
    “I know you weren’t yourself that night Richard, but don’t ever hurt her again. Ever. Do you understand me?”
    “I understand.”
    “No, Richard. If you hurt her again, I’ll make sure you suffer.”
    “I promise, Paul,” Richard said, suddenly standing. “Can’t you see how distraught I am over this situation? To think I’ve hurt the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
    Paul felt his stomach lurch. Richard paced as he spoke now.
    “I almost can’t live with myself for this. Do you think she’ll forgive me?”
    When I didn’t answer, for all I could think about was my betrayal to Richard, he questioned me.
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    “I’m just nervous about this new adventure.”
    I hated lying.
    “I’ve been thinking,” Richard said suddenly, “Perhaps you shouldn’t go to Whitemoor after all.”
    I laughed.
                          “I’m serious.”
                          “Richard, you  are the one that facilitated this situation. Now you don’t want me to go?”
                          “It’s just…” he said, keeping his eyes downcast to the floor. “I’ve realized I don’t have many true friends…any true friends, in fact, except for you.”
                          “What about Charlie and the Loxleys?” I could not help the hint of uneasiness in my voice as I spoke her name. “And Claire?”
                          “They’re friends, but not true ones, except for Claire, and I’ve been an awful friend and husband to her,” Richard continued. “I don’t deserve her, Paul.”
                          Richard’s rare outpour of sentiment made me feel worse about my actions. I poured another drink for myself and filled Richard’s glass.  Then