Spring found the two ill fated friends
closer than ever before. Politics were
off limits. Sister Nancy who ran the
center for illegal farm workers was not discussed. Gay and HIV/AIDS was the only charity work that
Cynthia discussed with Tucker. Tucker
did begin to understand that when one of the clients was very ill or dying,
Cynthia needed him to hold her. She had
explained it in a way that he could not refuse her. “I am a human and I have needs. When I am sad I need someone to hold me and
since you are the closest thing I have to a boyfriend, that job goes to
you. You can either do it or I will find
someone to do it for you. Your choice.”
There it was all laid out before him. It would never do for someone else to hold
the woman he was “dating”, so he did it.
It was very uncomfortable the first few times, but then he began to
understand that human contact was not so bad.
Always before contact was a precursor to sex, but that was out of the
question now. So when she needed held,
he held her and if she cried he even learned to pat her and say “There. There.”
It wasn’t so bad after all. Once
on the way to the river he even reached out and took her hand for no
reason. Just that one time.
Tucker took Cynthia to the movie night of
the Motorcycle club in Colorado Springs.
Being the only female there was rather awkward, but she was proud that
Tucker was making an effort to include her in his life and sharing this side of
his life with her. The guys were
nice. All gentlemen. That was the difference between a “Biker
Club” and a “British Motorcycle Club.”
In June, Tucker’s brother, Anton, his wife
Stacy, and their two kids, Clint and Brent came to Colorado on holiday. Tucker did not include her in that
outing. Meeting his friends was one
thing, but family was another altogether.
He did not discuss it at all. Her
phone did not ring for 3 days. And then
they were gone and she was his best friend again. Tucker Fuhrman was a strange one.
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