The pale bark of the gray eucalyptus trees was daubed in orange from the glow of the new sodium-vapor lights along Balboa Park Drive. At least something around here had a glow on; he sure as hell did not. Maddy, his wife, spoke to him from the bed. “Brian, it’s all right. Brian, come back to bed.” “It’s not all right. Nothing’s all right. It’s deployment day, and I’m going away for seven months, and you’re miserable, and I can’t even—” “Brian, please. It’s our last time to be together. Please, let’s not fight. I’m sorry I’m being such a bitch about the deployment. But come back to bed.” Brian sighed and turned around. The sight of Maddy in the soft light of the bedroom, that mass of blond hair, her lovely face, her glorious breasts bared above the sheet, was still enough to take his breath away, even after almost four years of marriage. So then why the hell on this, their last night, morning, whatever, together, couldn’t he perform? As if reading his thought, Maddy patted the bed next to her.
