++ b/story/Will.txt
and didn't look back. He ducked out of the tent, stalked silently  out of
the ward, leaned against the wall and started sobbing. He slid down the wall
and covered his face with his hands.

"Bill?"

He shrugged.

Alyson sat down next to him and threw her arm around him. He shrugged again,
then struck the floor so hard that Alyson jumped.

"I can't believe it. I never thought it would end this way. I know this
happens, I know partners get asked to leave, and people die alone. But. Not.
Will." He struck the floor again.

"Bill? Can I stay with you tonight?"

"... I don't know. I should get back to the bar, I just closed so I could
come here."

"Oh, Bill. Let me at least come hang out, keep you company?"

"Okay." He sounded flat and cold. 

* * *

Alyson pulled her collar up, trying to keep the blowing rain out of her
coat. She shivered in the cold wind. Two more blocks. I thought running to
the market would be better, but I think the chinese delivery might have been
the smart choice. I wish it would just snow again. At least it won't trickle
down the inside of your coat.

She clutched the plastic bag with pasta and vegetables in it and pulled the
door to the bar open. Still empty. "Is business down?"

"Yeah. A bit. Closing to be with Will hasn't helped."

"Shit. That's gotta be hard."

"Eats into the savings a bit. Whatever." That flat, cold tone in Bill's
voice had spread to every conversation now. "Thanks for getting the food. I
still say take-out would have been better. You're soaked."

"Yeah. I think I agree with you now. You want to cook or shall I?" Alyson
asked.

"I guess you can. I don't really feel like it."

"You sure? You love to cook."

Bill shrugged and Alyon felt the memory of her first day with Bill and Will
becoming more bittersweet. The food, the wine, the safe space to relax in
and forget about surviving for a little while. It felt so far away, even if
it was only months ago.

"I can cook pasta. I'm just not so good as you are. I can make something if
you want though."

Bill shrugged behind the bar and dried glasses.

Alyson got up and went behind the bar and hugged him. She felt a tear splash
on her hands, and looking up, saw his eyes brimming over, and Bill struggled
to keep the tears in check.

"How about we order chinese anyway, and I can stay here and be with you?"

Bill nodded sadly. "I'd like that. I don't want to be alone right now."

"Alright. Got any favorites?"

"Number thirteen. Extra egg rolls."

Alyson couldn't help grinning at knowing the menu well enough to know the
numbers. "Do they have anything with mushrooms?"

"Number twenty-three. But it's spicy."

"That's okay."

Alyson dialed, a short pause. "Yes. Number thirteen, extra egg rolls. Number
twenty-three. Yes, spicy is fine." She paused and clasped the receiver.
"Bill! What's the address here?"

"1520 Brook"

"1520 Brook." Another pause. She clasped the receiver again. "He says to
tell you you are still up to no good, and your food will arrive cold and
soggy."

Bill's face betrayed him, and a smiled crossed it briefly. "Tell Fong to
kiss it."

Alyson blushed and laughed. "He says you can kiss it, Fong." She listened,
then laughed and said to Bill "And on second thought, you can have it warm
and fresh." She hung up. "Old friend?"

"I've been getting take-out from him for nine years. Ever since he bought
the place."

Not ten minutes later, a Chinese man burst in the door of the bar carrying a
plastic sack. He looked up and down the bar once. "No customer?"

"Slow night," Bill said, stepping out from behind the bar and hugging the
man.

"Too much time with your boyfriend."

Bill sighed. "Or not enough."

"You need help here." He gestured broadly. "Too much work for someone who
goes to hospital every day."

Alyson watched the two of them, seeming to verbally fence with each other. 

"I do fine." Parry.

"Then why so quiet?" Thrust.

"Slow night." A poor block.

The man stood up straight, still not impressively tall, but stopped talking
for a moment and just watched Bill. Bill fidgeted. Another look up and down.

"Dying." Touché. That certainly isn't going to keep this conversation going
strong.

Bill sighed and sat. "Yes. Fong, he's dying." He sounded utterly emotionless.

"Eat." Fong pulled out three pails from the bag, and a paper bag full of egg
rolls. He pushed one pail toward Bill, and another toward Alyson. Alyson set
to picking the large pieces of onion out of it, then eating it and watching
Bill.

Bill picked at his food.

"Eat! You take care of you too. You eat, you see Will, you let this young
lady tend your bar."

Bill looked surprised. "Alyson tend..." he trailed off. "Would you want to?"

Alyson looked up, holding an onion slice awkwardly with her chopsticks. "I
could do that, I guess. The market isn't exactly my dream job."

"Since Will got sick, I couldn't think of anyone I could trust behind the
bar," tears of relief slid down his cheeks "and I didn't have the heart to
look."

"Oh, Bill. I'd love to." And we have to talk about money. It's so tight as
it is, she thought. She fished a couple more onion slices out of her meal
and then took a bite.

"Fong, how do you do that? You always suggest just what's needed."

Fong shrugged. "I just say what is."