Yeahhh

As Henry softly pleaded with me, his words echoing in the otherwise low hiss of the NYC yellow cab we were riding, his back slumped against the door as he faced me, his countenance repentant and childlike, I reflected back to a decade before, and to the love notes that I had seen scattered around his apartment at that time; both, from the beautiful Norwegian femme fatale who had caused his last exile from NYC, and subsequently from the method actress he had an intense and ultimately disastrous affair with in London- during that time right before he had made his move to Asia.  

Visions of these historical love relics made his present-day words nauseating to me; I correlated the love notes to those two women, who after the high of Henry’s romance were ultimately left broken and confused.

Never be so arrogant as to assume that what a man does to one woman, he won’t do to you.

Another tidbit of Henry’s wisdoms from a decade before popped into my head, this perhaps being one of the best and worst parts of being courted by your best friend: you know too much.

A mild addict in his own way, I wondered if Henry courted love for love’s sake? I wondered if my friend couldn’t help himself; with love and the pursuit of it being one of the most powerful and prolific drugs that most of us can access.