I spent another twenty-four hours in Seattle. Thereafter, Zeninen and I flew back to Chicago where he demanded I heal, under his staff’s care. There, I settled into his gothic mansion, a private suite on the third floor, and fulfilled whatever my needs entailed. I was gifted three male nurses: Zachary, Timothy, and David. Each took shifts regarding my recovery. Zachary was slim and red-haired with a Tennessee accent. The young man cared for me during the morning hours and afternoons. Timothy was just a boy, twenty-years-old with American-Indian looks and cold hands. His shift covered the hours of four in the evening until midnight. David, the most handsome of the three, a chiseled beefcake with piercing blue eyes, curly blond hair, broad shoulders, and plump lips, was my caregiver from mid
