Here they come now.

(looks up, shades her eyes) Are you sure?

Positive. I’d know Dean’s swishy walk anywhere.

Will you cover that thing up? We don’t need to see it.

I don’t need you to see it. The show was for the brawny guy in the apartment across the street.

I hope Matt’s ok.

What did they say?

You shouldn’t have walked. We should have drove you.

Tell that to Mr. Indestructible here.

I think he’s running a fever.

What did the doctor say?

Nothing. Says I have a bad cold - a summer cold.

Those are the worst. I once had one that lasted 2 full weeks - then it took me the rest of the Summer to shake it.

What a rotten shame. It’ll spoil your vacation.

Well, if you remember last year Dean was sick - stomach virus.

That wasn’t last year. That was the year before. . .

Three years ago. And Matt caught it as well.

I’ll be ok. Let me just go an lie down for a while. (to Dean) Baby, you stay here. I don’t want you to get this.

Like I won’t get it. I get every little fucking germ you get. When I agreed to love you and share your ass, I guess I agreed to share everything.

Well, humor me. Just stay here. I’ll take some NyQuil and conk out for a bit.

Well, he’ll be ok. These things happen. Maybe we should take our minds off it and play some cards or maybe a movie.

T-Dance. Let’s go Dean.

Russ, I’m not going to the T-Dance now.

But you never miss a T-Dance.

Russell Hay. Don’t you have any morsel of compassion or concern. Your best friend’s hubby is sick and you’re trying to pull him away to a sex auction.

What’s you point? Matt would want him to go. Dean only drewls and makes commentary at the T-Dance. He’s too married to do the touching thing.

No, I think cards will be a calmer sport. It’s a cool afternoon. We could enjoy the sea-breeze - and drink lemon-squashes.

Maybe a movie. Jodie Foster is in that new movie . . .the Carl Sagen one.

No way. I’m not sitting in a small movie theatre filled wall to wall with Lesbians all panting after Jodie Foster. "It just ain’t fittin’ It ain’t fittin’ Hm! Hm! Hm!"

Well Butterfly McQueen, now you know how we feel when you divas swoon over Cruise or Broderick.

Maybe cards would be better. And I’ll whip up some of my famous fried eggs . . .

In lard - hell you will. Just the smell of those things make me wanna hurl, girl! C’mon, Dean come to the T-Dance.

You go. Give me a report on Green-shorts guy. You know the one.

There is no other. Aw, I’ll be lonely.

You’ll get over it. I just want to sit here and rest. That walk down to the infirmary was tiring. I didn’t think Matt was going to make it. He stopped in front of the Barbie Doll house and wretched his guts out. I thought Ken was in immiment danger. We sat for a time on the curb.

What did the doctor do?

Well, I’m out of here.

Go, already. Go, and have a good time. I’m sure Matt will be ok in a day or so.

So .. .

So what?

What did the doctor do, really?

What do you mean "really"? He said it was a bad summer cold. He didn’t prescribe anything. Told him to drink plenty of liquids and get to bed.

I knew we should have driven you guys down there. Well, dear, take this rose.

What for?

I don’t know. Because it’s a beautiful thing and that’s why we live here in Provincetown — for the beauty of it. Whenever Les here feels down or tired I always go to the garden and get her a rose.

She does, believe me, she does. It doesn’t matter that they make me sneeze like hell or that they have thorns or there’s sometimes a creepy-crawlers in them - she plunks one down in my lap anyway.

(looking at the rose) Well, it’s beautiful Ginger - and since its what you do for the one you love most, I take it as a real kindness. And you know, I will give it Matt. I’ll put it by his bedside so he sees it when he awakes.

It is so restful here. That sun penetrates me like a warm hug. Oh. How many summers have we spent our vacations here with you. And, although we love the dancing and dining and men - men - men - it’s here on your proch that I love best.

You know, the first summer we came. I shouldn’t really tell you.

Tell Mama.

Yes, it’ll be better than cards.

Well, when you all went to bed on the first . . .or was it the second . . yes, the second night, Matt and I crept quietly out here on the porch - right on this very spot and did it. I remember the warm evening breeze and cricket sounds. Then there was this wonderful cocoanut aroma - his aroma - my Matt. That soap was the most wonderful perfume imaginable. We held each other for an eternity. Only the rustle of your cats brought us back to land fall.

Yes, we know.

We had a good view of you guys from the porch that night.

I said to Ginger, our Dean has found a man of his own - a good man - a strong man. One that will give him what we have given each other.

Yes, it is so right - so very right with us. It has been and it shall always be. Oh, we have our moments. We’ve had some whopping arguments -

And good make up sex.

Great make up sex. Sometimes he’s such an asshole - so stubborn. He forced himself to walk up the hill. I told him to wait and I’d go get the car. But, no. He held on to me and made it hard for both of us rather than to admit he’s sick and needs a few days rest. And all he could do is apologize for ruining my time. But you know, as long as he’s with me, I am right - so very right. It has been and it shall always be.

I’ll take a look - make sure he’s got everything he needs.

I can’t believe that asshole Russ. How long have you known him?

My sister - since I don’t know. There’s always been a Russ. He’ll never change. He’s into only one thing, Russ. But Russ is Russ. If you know that and realized that he’s not going to change, then you just let him do what he wants.

Well, he’s damn irresponsible.

I think maybe, Dean honey, we ought to take Matt home.

Home? Why?

Well, I’m not a nurse or anything - but, his sheets are completely drenched with sweat. I mean wringing wet.

Shit!

If he’s real sick, he shouldn’t travel.

He looks real, real sick. He’s gasping for air.

(entering) Shit! What do I do? Who do we call?

(to Ginger) How much room do we have on the card?

Enough, I’ll take care of it.

What?

We’ll fly him out to Logan. It’s the fastest way.

But . . .

No buts.

(from inside the house, on the phone) Cape Cod Air? Yes, when’s your next flight out to Logan? Yes . . . Yes . . . Yes . .

Paging Doctor Kane. Doctor Kane you’re needed in Q area. Doctor Kane, you’re needed in the Q area.

I told you sir, only immediate family can see Mr. Kieler.

But I am his partner. I’ve told you, we live together.

I’m sorry, the rules are the rules. Family only.

But can’t you even tell me his condition.

I told you he’s critical. But you can only discuss it further with his doctor - and since you’re not family, the doctor can’t tell you anything.

But you don’t understand.

I’m sorry. I wish I could help.

Uncaring Bitch.

Sir, if you become abusive, I’ll have you removed from the premise.

No, no. I’m sorry. You must know that Mr. Keiler is my . . . well, we are . . .

(giving an unapproving look) Sir, that’s no concern of mine. If you are not a family member, you must wait until the family . . .

Dean. Dean (she embraces him) How is he? We came as soon as we heard.

(crying) I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything. I’m not his family and they won’t let me see him. They don’t understand.

What do you mean you’re not his family?

(to the Nurse) You should be ashamed of yourself. This is his family.

And who are you?

I’m the patient’s sister.

I’ll page the doctor at once.

(to the nurse) I’m his mother - and this is my son-in-law, his life-partner. How dare you! How dare you!!

I’m doing my job. (pages the doctor) Paging Doctor Kane. Doctor Kane you’re needed in the waiting room.

(to Mrs. Keiler) The doctor will see you in a minute. As for this young man, whatever their relationship is, he cannot see the patient unless he is family as defined by law.

Look at him, you cunt!

Freida! Not so loud.

This is a place for caring and healing. What right have you to judge him and bring him pain. He is closer to my son and more important to me than I am sure you are to anyone so unfortunate to call you a relative. Now, take us to my son!

Mrs. Keiler, please calm down. Doctor!

What’s the problem.

I was explaining Hospital policy about family only . . .

Please Nurse Lynn - let me handle this. Mr. & Mrs. Keiler, come sit down.

Your son is resting, but we had to put him on oxygen.

Oxygen?

He has pneumonia - pneumosistis carinii.

I knew that - I was hoping it wasn’t that. It’s just like Danny.

Then, you realize that he is in a great deal of danger with this episode.

AIDS?

A complication related to the HIV infection. Are you his significant other? You need to be tested immediately.

Just like Danny? But Danny died in a bashing.

He did, but he had AIDS and had quite a few episodes. Poor Matt went through hell.

Danny had AIDS. I don’t believe this.

May we see him now?

Yes, come now.

Can Dean come - his ---

Why of course. Come now. All of you.

Dean! Dean, are you coming?

My baby. You look so helpless.

(removing the mask) Mom. Dad.

Dean?

(staying to the side) I’m here.

(getting up) We’re all here.

It’s not so bad. I actually feel better. But in P’Town I thought I was going to die.

Has the doctor talked to you? Has he said anything about your condition?

I know. But . . but . . if I lick this, it’ll be ok. It will be ok.

You better put that thing back on.

Listen baby, you should rest. We’ll be outside. Dean will stay with you. You need to be alone with him anywhay. We’ll be here.

Sorry I ruined the vacation. These things happen.

(running his hands through Matt’s hair) Don’t give it another thought baby. Just get better and we’ll figure this out.

It’ll be ok. I’ll be on my feet in no time and back to work.

Just take one thing at a time, you know it all bastard. You just won’t lie still for no one.

I don’t know what I’d do without you, baby.

I bet you would.

(coughs) I’d better put this crap back on. (puts the mask on)

Rest now. I’ll be here.

I should leave you right now. Why should I care, if you didn’t? I probably have it too. And I hope I do - ‘cause we share everything, and if I can’t share this monster with you . . .

Oh, what am I saying. Where’s the light going? Where’s the peace I know and the love I have come to count on. It’s been a lie! Tell me it hasn’t. You bastard, I love you so. How could you do this to me. How!

Lover, sweet lover. I asked God for you and he delivered. But is such a prayer meant to test the soul. I am not ready for this. I am not ready for this test. God, take me now so I don’t have to face this. I want to just run and hide. I want to just leave him here and never see him again.

(waking - removes the mask) Baby, my baby.

(weeping uncontrolled) Take me with you.

I’m going nowhere.

Then I’ll stay - I’ll stay.

I’ll be better.

You better be better fucker. If you want to deserve me, you’d better be better.

Come on it.

(from the couch) Hi, guys. Glad y’all could come.

Hi sweetie. (goes and kisses Matt.)

Hi sis. (kisses Mary)

How’s my boy today?

We have a good day today, don’t we?

It’s not crappy. And now that you’re all here. We did so need a party - a little get together. We don’t get out to the club - and we’ve missed so many things.

Mom and Dad send their love and want to know when you’re coming over to visit.

I saw them last week. They stopped over. But you know, after a full days a work, I just want to come home here and sleep.

They understand.

Drinks! Eats! Help yourselves.

(to Ginger) Mix me something. Surprise me.

(who has been uncustomarily subdued) Do you have beer?

Since when do you drink beer? Of course we do. In the frig. Help yourself. I do enough waitressing about here.

Sorry dear.

(kissing him) No apologies today, sweetheart. Let’s just enjoy our friends.

While I can still see them.

Shhh. Enough.

Did I tell you, I saw Miss Kitty at the Cave? She was in her full regalia. Tin cup tits and all.

What a hoot.

Did she do her Carol Channing.

(imitating Carol Chaning) And did she! Well, Dolly’s back in town! (switching to Middler) And then she went into a Devine Miss M - bitchin’ truly bitchin’

I loved Beaches.

The critics hated it. Then why does everyone I meet say they loved it? I don’t understand this at all.

It’s jealousy, you know.

I couldn’t watch it. I found it so sad - and why do we need to talk about that picture anyway?

Why not?

Why indeed.

No, go ahead. I saw it. It was great. Loved the Titslinger scene - and that kid who played Bette the younger. She like caght every nuance of the older Miss M. She almost stole the show.

No. She didn’t. No one could have stole the show from Bette.

Not even droopy Barbara Hershey, with the disease of the month.

That’s a good one - the disease of the month.

Please. Can’t we change the subject?

Why Russell, you’ve been so quiet.

I think Miss Gym-bunny’s been dumped by his most recent lance thrower.

Trick, you mean.

No, I haven’t been seeing anyone. I just think it depressing to talk about such a weepy movie at a party. Why don’t we talk about Boys in the Band or something.

Well there’s an upbeat movie for you. Why not Torch Song Trilogy or As Is, while we’re at it.

Get some food, all of you. And baby, I think I could manage a little of your potato salad.

Oh, I’ve got beans in the oven.

Just what I need with my AZT, little exploding pop-tarts covered in molasses and bacon.

They’re for the company, sweetheart. You stick to the potato salad.

(to Matt) Well dear, are things getting better at work?

Mary, let’s not go there.

Why not. At least he can get into work.

(touches her hand) Well, sis - I am officially on "disability".

Oh, sorry.

Sorry to hear it.

Shit - you were doing so well.

No apologies today. Please, no apologies today.

Dean’s right. It’s nothing to be sorry for. I’ve missed so much time - you know the bad days have been real bad.

But the good days.

Well, they have been good. And the people at work are supportive. Hank Green even agred to let me do work from the house.

(with the potato salad) Here you go. People, eat.

Hank’s been real good. Not many bosses will even give a gay man the time of day let alone a day off to lay dying in a hospital. But he did send work around on those days; and we sure could use it.

How’s your job, Dean?

Retail ain’t what it used to be, eh Russ?

Let’s not talk work.

Ignore him folks. I have seniority at the counter, but I have missed so many days. And I can’t come out at work. They’re still a pretty homophobic lot. I’m on my last sick day and personal day off.

Well you guys know, if . . .

Have some potato salad - and the Strata is my mom’s recipe.

(into the Strata Salad) Are these whole peas?

Yep. And Muenster cheese.

A regular Matha Stewart.

Martha who?

You haven’t seen her.

Is that the woman that goes into her garden to pick the lettuce and makes her own pots and pans before you can cook.

What a hoot.

She’s a fad. Won’t last the season.

Anyway, if you guys want the recipe, I’ll print it out.

Baby.

Yes, you need more. You can’t really have strata - you’d never digest it.

I hate to say it, but you’ve changed the subject. These are our closest friends - and they deserve to know.

Know what?

Sit down everyone.

Are we going to poop this party? Matt you promised.

I’ve made many promises in life - and I have actually kept some. But they should know why I am going on disability.

Isn’t it obvious?

No, smart-ass - this plague hasn’t put me down yet. But now I’ve developed something that’s going to make it tougher. Retinitus.

Shit.

What’s that?

The disease is degenerating his sight.

(in shock) You’re . . .

Going blind. Not yet, but there’s nothing to stop it. It’s bad enough that the meds keep me puking and shitting - now I won’t even be able to see my way to the bathroom. Glamourous eh.

Well Matt. You managed to poop this party.

Not really. I love your potato salad dear, but it’s pooped me.

Do you need help?

Not yet. I’ll call you if I shit on the wall.

Maybe we ought to leave.

Leave? No, it’s a party — our last party. He wanted to see you all together before he couldn’t see you at all.

Leave? No, never leave. You know, I was going to leave. Yes, I was going to leave. I’m young and vibrant - and he got this thing from his previous lover and never told me. I felt betrayed and stunned. But I couldn’t leave. He needs me. He says he down’t, but he does.

He needs me to feed him and wipe up aftrer him. He needs me to hold his hand when he sits by the window and cries his heart out. He won’t cry for anyone else, but he will for me. And he needs to cry. Who else would remember his medication schedule. He’d never take the crap if it weren’t for me. And who drives him to the park, so he doesn’t grow old and mouldy in here. And in the dark recesses of the sleepless night, I message his feet to ease the pain so he can get some sleep. They are gorgeous feet, and I lock my fingers between his toes and rub them like a child’s. You know, if I didn’t do that, he’d never sleep. He needs me. And I can only hold on because I also need him - but I also need you. Leave me? If you leave me, you leave us.

How are you? Are you ok?

Yep. But I’m tired.

Dean, maybe we should leave.

Perhaps it’s best. Matt you should lie down.

Yes, baby you’re right. But I’d like to look at y’all once more, while I can.

Ginger snap! Such a broad face. You know I can’t go to the beach next summer. Even if I’m still here, all your cats would give me the shits and kill me. Think of that. Killed by pussies. There, there - Lesbians don’t cry.

Shit they don’t.

(to Leslie - touching her face) Les the Lez. You know, if they ever write a book about those who love, you’d be the centerspread picture. The world could learn a lot about the meaning of the word from you. Let me feel your face. Aha. I feel it. I feel the warmth of the golden Privincetown sun, it’s beaches and gulls. I see in your eyes the gentle breeze and the kites entwining at dawn. And yes, all those Lesbians packed into the movie house to lactate over Jodie Foster. I love you - which is something I’ve never said to a women before.

When it comes to love Matt, you’re no slouch yourself.

(to Mary) Well when I said I’ve never said I love you to another woman, I guess I lied, sis. Sweet baby sister. (touches her face) Don’t cry. I’ll be here for a long time yet. It’s my eyes that are dying. I’ll be in the darknes. That’s why I want to fill my mind with the sunlight of your smile. When I touch your face, I touch my own.

Come sir, Russ. Let my fingers take in your portrait; although, this is not the picture I have of you in my mind.

Better to keep that picture than this one.

(touches his face) Oh. Oh no. I see. I feel it comrade. I feel it. You and I will have a plenty of time for ourselves in anothre place. I feel it comrade as you join our legions.

What do you feel and see?

Please, baby. We have company; and what I feel now about you is not for their ears. But I will tell you that when the light is gone from these eyes, it will be replaced with a different light - the rarest light of all.

Just a minute.

Mrs. Keiler. I didn’t expect you.

I was in the . . . Dean. This place is . . .

I’ve got to clean today. I really do.

But he’ll catch anything that’s lurking in here.

No really, I’ll do it. I’ll do it.

I’ll help you. Why is it like this?

I’ve been working nights.

Nights?

At Chasson’s Warehouse.

In addition to the store?

Well, I lost that.

Really? Why didn’t you tell us? You know we’d help? Does your mother know?

Well, yes - but there’s little she can do.

Yes, but we can do this. He is our son, you know? Is he up?

No. He’s finally asleep. We had a rough night.

Well, I don’t mean to be bossy.

No, I understand. But money’s tight. We get meds and some meals from the Hyacinth Foundation. They’ve been a big help. I have a Buddy come in to help me - but he’s on vacation. He usually helps me straighten the place up. But with the night work and coming in to Matt’s night pains, and getting to caregiver meetings and picking up odd jbs at the Nursery and . . .

I have never known a man so brave in my life as you are. I know that this isn’t the only time people are faced with caring for a loved one. God knows, I watched and cared for my own mother as she died of lung cancer - but, to watch men in their twenties and thirties waste away - and to loose a son (she fills up).

Mom, are you all right?

Mom. You called me Mom. You usually call me Mrs. Keiler. I’ve waited a long time to hear you call me Mom.

We’ll have courage for two. Maybe you should come to the Hyacinth support meetings.

I don’t know. I think I’ll find them depressing.

They’re informative - and we all support each other. But you’re right, they are depressing at times. The other night, this guy - Fred - sat quietly throughout the meeting. We all talked about our partners and buddies and were as instructive and as positive as we could be. Then he raised his hand and stood quietly. Fred was from New Jersey - but lived the last twelve years in San Francisco. He told us of his lover and friends. He told a tale of heartbreak and dying - of farewells and healing. He worked on the coast with AIDS Services - he was a buddy, delivered meals, sewed panels for the quilt, marched in protests, walked in silent vigils - but in the end he felt he’d journeyed to no where. "I woke up one morning," he said. "And they were all gone. All my friends were gone - dead. All those young and beautiful angels. There wasn’t a single one left. I didn’t know what to do. So I came home here. I came home to die - because there would be no one there to keep a vigil over me. I came home to the arms of my family."

It’s not right that those who are die close to you are your own age or younger when you’re but a mite of a sweet boy.

And poor Russell.

Russell. He went so fast, honey. I could not believe it.

He was so flighty and full of life. He was like a butterfly feeding on life - flower to flower. Little did we know that too much life would be death.

At least he had you at the end.

Well, his death was his final gift to me. He was so close to me - yet, it gave me the trial run for . . .

Well, this place needs to be . . .

I know. You should go see him now.

Be prepared to see the face of death. He is an old man, worn and wizzen - blind and wasting away. And I have grown old in the passage. This is the vigil I keep. Here in the abasement of our existance - our hopes and dreams. Here in the battlements of this frail body, keeps the spirit of who we were and are. That is the vigil I keep.

That is the vigil I kept and keep.

Careful, baby. Take each step carefully. I don’t want you to fall again.

Bruises, bruises. I’m all brusies now. Do you think another will matter?

That’s not the point. I can’t pick you up again. Last time you blacked out and I couldn’t believe how heavy you were.

Getting lighter.

Dead weight.

Literally. Are we near?

(at the edge of the bed) Here. Arrived. At the station. Sit carefully. Now let me get your legs. Do you want to be propped up or lie flat?

Prop me up. Did I hear someone come in?

No one came in. Here, take your meds.

Don’t want that shit anymore. What’s the point! How much longer do you need to suffer with me? We could solve this all right now you know.

I don’t want to talk abou that again. I’m not Dr. Kevorkian - and you’re going to live way past Christmas.

Are we going to my Mom’s for Thanksgiving?

We’ll see.

No, no. I love Mom’s on Turkey day. It’s so wonderful there. You know I love it. And you love it too. And they’ll love to have us.

That’s not the point, Matt. How will I . . . How can you . . .

Shove me in a fucking wheelbarrow and push me there. I mean, there’s not much left of me that bones in a wheelbarrow couldn’t accommodate. Promise me lover that we’ll go.

We’ll see.

That’s not a promise. That’s a "no" - especially when you say it that way.

Wouldn’t it be better if they all came here and spent it with us? Afterall, it’s the people that count.

(cries) I’m not going to make it to Thanksgiving am I? I’ll never see anyone again. No eyes. No energy. No dreams when I sleep. I am a mess beyond all belief. I feel bad for my parents when they get old like me and suffer like me. If I’m not going to make it to Thanksgiving, I want to die today, lover. I want you to go out and buy the biggest load of medical shit possible and shove it down my throat so I can end this nightmare. I still have 28 years to retirement - and now I’m not going to have another Thanksgiving or feel another snowfall or get fucked again. Let me go lover.

(crying and hugging him) You’ll live today. You’ll get to thanksgiving. You’ll feel another snowfall. I promise. I’ll carry you myself over the threshold of your Mom’s place, like newly-weds, before the eyes of God. I promise you.

I knew you would. I knew you would. I’m so tired.

(weakly) Is that you baby?

Yep. Who else would sneak up on a blind man and kiss him.

Well, it’s nice to be home for Thanksgiving. All that food. I once could eat a horse, if it was unsaddled and served with Bar-Be-Que. Where’s the appetite now. I think our sense of smell is hungrier than our sense of reason. I don’t have the appetite now, but that turkey and stuffing is driving me crazy. Oh the aroma. You’ve brought to heaven, sweet boy.

I did the stuffing.

I’ll dream of the taste. Sausage and cornmeal and onions and seasonings. Brown and soft to the palette. Oh how many Thanksgiving’s I’ve said, "pass the stuffing", clumped it out and bolted it down like dog on a bone. Now I’d kill for the appetite to have just one savory taste.

Is that better?

As long as you’re near, it’s better. I love the aroma of Ivory Soap.

And I still love that cocoanut shit you use.

Baby, I’m so glad my parents love you. You’ll be a comfort to them when . . .

. . . your Mom’s an angel and a helluva cook.

Did she make the whole-berry cranberry sauce?

Yep. It’s amazing.

She let you lick the spoon?

Yep.

I loved to lick the spoon. I can taste it. Mmmm.

Well we’ll see just how much you can have.

It’s a curse to embrace the smells of life and not have the stomach for it. But then again, there’s no divide when it comes to us.

You’re wearing a tie? It won’t take a blind man to guess which one. How can anyone look at that thing and eat dinner.

It’s from a special friend - my little over-the-counter encounter.

I should have had it gift-wrapped. You know they offer free gift-wrap.

I know. But the cheap bastard who bought it didn’t even remove the price.

You could have any tie you wanted that night. Givenchy, Yves St Laurant. Any one.

Yeah, I know. But I was jealous of the bastard you bought it for. I suggested the ugliest one I could find.

Jealous of yourself.

I’m not jealous of myself anymore. No one should envy me when . . .

We’ve had a good run of it, Dean. We have had the best of all things and that we didn’t wind up on a porch, on old rocking chairs, balancing our gay check-books is just the price. So we didn’t have the good old Pink American dream; we had much better than most.

We did - and still do.

(yawns) Sorry about that. I feel so drowsey and . . .

Dean, some dip?

No thanks.

How is he? Sleeping?

Sis, is that you?

I’d offer you some dip but . . .

No come here baby sister.

Onion, I hope. Not veggie or crab shit. (sniffs) Onion. My favorite.

Maybe I’ll be able to have some of that stuffing yet?

(suddenly) Shit. Look, it’s snowing.

No shit. It’s too early for snow.

It’s snowing, Matt. It’s snowing.

How can it be? You’re making it up to cheer me.

No, Matt - it’s true. It wasn’t even in the forecast.

Really. Oh how I wish.

It’s snowing Matt.

It’s snowing, Matt and just for you. I prayed to God and he’s granted me this one small blessing. I prayed to God. I prayed.

Oh baby, I love you. Snowing. It’s snowing. I can’t see it. I can’t see it. I want to see it.

Of how I wish you could. I’ll tell you there’s the big flakes, just the kind you like. And they’re sticking on Mrs. Bolkonsky’s roof, and on Ginger and Leslie’s car.

Did they bring the BMW or the Mercedes?

The Mercedes. I think it will pack nicely - and maybe I’ll make some snow angels.

It’s really the most beautiful snowfall I have ever seen.

Baby. I can see the most beautiful snowfall I have ever seen. You know I can. I looked back at my place. There were the big flakes, sticking to whole world. It waw like in the movies; and I saw you. You, naked in the doorway, and I said, I will live the rest of my life with that man. That man will be my snow angel.

I remember, you wouldn’t come out in it. You just stood by the door; and I was so happy. So very, very happy. And I decided to give you a little serenade.

"I wish I were in the land of cotton,

Old times there are not forgotten,

Look away, look away . . .

Look away, look . . . away"

(miked) "Raymond Adams, James Wise, Kevin Marsters, Buddy Havran, Rob Frobier, Sgt Andy Andersen, Riccardo Sanchez, Rob Hackett, CD Smith, Steven Coates, Nicolas Allesandro, Russell Hay and my son, Matthew Keiler.

When my husband and I were asked today to read a protion of the names, we were hesitant. So many names, so many fallen - more fallen than all the wars we have fought. And yet, our government ignores this devastation, because they do not value the lives of our children. They think that because our children live their lives as they are, and because the higher ups do not approve of our children’s life-ways, their natural, normal life-ways, it gives Washington a right to watch them die and not even shed a tear or even to bring themselves to say the word AIDS. They be embarassed by this crop of death because these angels like the angels are different from the Kings who rule this land. But I am embarassed by that rule - their shame in letting this happen. Our fingers are sore from sewing their names on quilts.

I loved my son and love him still. I am proud he lived his life as the man he was, living with another man, the love of his life. Their love was good - still is good. And because the dragons in the palaces of alabaster, who would not know the subject of love - or who have forgotten that this country was founded on the principles of freedom and good spirits, our children die and posterity is suppose to forget them. So, I am proud of my gay son - my brave, courageous son, who told me who he was and let me share in that great gift. Mothers do not shun your sons or deny that great gift. You never know how long you have to revel in it. I will revel in the great joy of his life for as long as I breathe. Thank you."

It came out good.

Very good.

Very novel. I loved the way you spelled his name out in his old ties.

Except for that last tie there. I’ve seen that one before.

It is a shocking purple color, isn’t it?

It was a gift for a special friend. We always kidded about it. He hated the color. You don’t know how many times it went in the old clothes heep. It always got retrieved. I always managed to hold onto it.

The panel really came out well, Dean. Matt would be proud of it.

But it’s a symbol of shame, you know. My shame.

How can you say that, Dean dear? You cared for him with love and, I know I don’t think I could have survived it.

No, I mean - I did everything I could, but I did it in silence. If I had just been more vocal about things . . .

He would still be gone, hon.

I know. But I ask myself, did I do enough. Was I too silent? You know what silence equals?

Act Up! That’s the lunatic fringe! You know they disrupted a Catholic mass!

Les, you’re not Catholic.

That doesn’t matter. We need to be respectful of other people’s beliefs.

But to the point that we can stand by and let people revel in our death -as a solution to some misquoted biblical passage?

We know you must feel anger, dear.

I’m madder than hell that I had to sew this quilt panel for a fallen angel - my fallen angel. And as for Act Up! They are doing something, while the rest of us sit on our asses and sew!

What do you mean? I thought . . .

Nope. My dears - there’s one last act. Call me a drama queen, but one more thing to do.

Our wedding rings.

Now where to sew them. Where? Oh, I know.

Matt, dearest husband - lover and closest friend, I am sewing these symbols of our eternal bond onto that ugly, ugly purple tie, so all the world knows forever, that Dean loves Matt. — that Dean loves Matt.

(to the audience) And that is the vigil I kept and keep.