We were friends and neighbors, but it was impossible to know the real Malory, he told everyone very different stories about his past.
He was a very good illustrator but rarely ever showed it to anyone and always said he wasn't good enough.
Malory would make very drunkin late night phone calls. I had been sober for about 6 years and while the calls were a plea for help, he always refused any. Once I drove from Knoxville to Virginia where he lived, I had to bust down the door, the apartment was in shambles and liquer bottles were everyplace. I pleaded with him to go to a rehab, he made a very crule remark, and I slugged him in the face and knocked him out cold.
I cleaned the place and left.
Malory got AIDS and didn't tell anyone, he returned to Texas at a hospital that never had a case of "gay cancer" and were afraid to touch him.
He barricaded himself in the hospital room at the end and the doctors just let him die. Mallery was always very dramatic.