"Tie him down, and he'll shrivel up and die. Turn him loose, and nothing in the universe can stop him. Let him go, Marny. Completely. You can find another life down here, the sort of life you need. But Bart could never find another life—"
Her eyes were wide with pain and sadness. "There's no other way, Ben?"
"If you love him, Marny, that's the only thing you can do—"
Bart was waiting for me, several nights later, when I got in from the hospital. He was lying on the couch when I closed the door. His shirt was open at the neck, and he didn't even move as I hung up my jacket in the closet. Then he said: "Hi, Ben. Been waiting for you."
"Beer?"
He shook his head and sat up. He looked like he'd been through the dishwasher. There were grey circles under his eyes, and he hadn't shaved for a couple of days. But, worst of all was the look in his eyes—a look of bewilderment and torture I'd never seen there before.
"You look like hell," I said.
"I feel like hell."
"Marny?"