Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. (T.S. Elliot)

I started a pot of coffee. Nicky had taught me how to make really good Italian-style coffee just like his grandma makes it, or so he told me. I think he made up as much as he told me in truth when it came to that Italian family of his. If his last name wasn't Martinez I wouldn't have bought it at all.

Facing the counter as I measured out coffee, I tried to be dismissive as I said, “Just some money problems or some family problems, some money-family problems. It'll all get sorted out.”

I didn't realize Tommy was right behind me until he spoke. “So you're just stressed?” He put his hands on my shoulders. I froze as if he had just paralyzed me. I was suddenly very aware that his name was Tommy.

“What's wrong?”

I pulled myself away and faced him. “My God, you sound like a broken record.”

I quickly put the pot on the stove and walked away. I lay on my bed so he couldn't touch my shoulders.

“I want to help,” he offered as he walked toward me.

“How about a couple million dollars?”

He laughed.

“I thought you wanted to help.”

“You're kidding, Honey.”

“I wish,” I sighed. “Don't tell anyone.”

He lay beside me. “I would never.”

I got up and walked back toward the stove. I traced my finger along his chemistry book as I waited for the coffee.

“Actually,” he said carefully, “I'm pretty desperate for money right now too.”

“This is so not the time.”

“No, I’m not asking for you to cut my rent. I’m saying maybe we can help each other.”

“I’m listening.”