Upon arriving at the small Montana lodge where Drew was hiding, I was swarmed by local and national media, throngs of reporters, and walls of microphones shoved in my face, branded as “The Lover of the Paths of Glory Chef.”

“Was Andrew responsible for the mass suicide?” echoed one bitchy female reporter. I remained silent, escorted by the local police into the lodge as I ignored the screaming chorus of questions.

Upon stepping inside, I was grateful to be in the quiet lobby, surrounded by high wooden beams and the brilliant Montana sky seen through the skylights, but my moment of peace was quickly interrupted by the lodge owner. A small and older man, the pudgy gentleman greeted me eagerly--- obviously pleased with the national publicity.

“My phones have been ringing off the hook. Fortunately, I don’t own a restaurant. Now THAT would be a nightmare.” Seeing my demeanor was less than enthusiastic to his candor, he quickly changed his tone. “If there’s anything you or Drew need, it’s on the house.”

“Where is he?”

The owner personally escorted me to the 2nd story suite, knocking on the door. Footsteps moved inside and suddenly Drew opened the door, standing before me, looking exhausted.

He grabbed me, pulling me inside as he slammed the door on the overly polite lodge owner.

I held him in my arms as he broke down and cried.

I could feel his body tremble as I looked out the large picture window of a Montana forest, wondering how such evil could be borne in such a beautiful spot.

“I didn’t kill anybody,” whimpered Drew.

I couldn’t help but smile as I held him. “Of course not, sweetie. You saw them do it.”

“YES! That freak Robert did it, putting cyanide with lobster.”

“People believe you,” I said. “And I hear Kevorkian is interested in starting a catering company with you.” He looked at me as I smiled, hoping he’d laugh, but he pushed himself away from me.

“That’s not funny!”

He went to the window, staring forward, clearly upset.

“I’m sorry, Drew.”

“I’m an idiot. I thought these people were my friends.”

“Regardless, hopefully they’re exactly where they wanted to be--- in the Universe, hitching a ride with the lunar shower, dancing upon the light fantastic.” He nodded in agreement. I continued, “Did you hear? They found another body in the bathroom.”

“Where!”

“Right behind the shower.”

Fortunately, Drew couldn’t help but crack a smile at that one. I continued, “Sorry, it’s the way for me to deal that…you…” I couldn’t help but become emotional, “that…you’re okay.”

His eyes welled with tears as he threw his arms around me, the two of us crying.

“We have to support each other,” I choked out. “Even when we think the other one is doing something stupid. We can voice our opinion, but we have to respect…”

“…each other and NEVER cook soup in Montana.”

Through our tears we laughed again, when I saw out the window a newspaper reporter climbing up a nearby fire escape.

Drew reached forward and lowered the blinds. We held each other in the darkness of the room, simply rocking back and forth, grateful to have the other one’s arms wrapped around our soul.