"Mom, what if he comes back?" Come on, ravishing chick, can't you feel the thrill of almost getting caught? I rubbed your cherry right in front of him...and made you have an orgasm. Don't pretend that you didn't like it." I liked it, Mom, but..." I let out before bitting my bottom lip."What, Rose? If there is anything you need to say, then say it."I calmly rose up and turned to her. I put my hand out, and she took it immediately."Mom..." I muttered before I took her other hand. "You're crazy," I. Not a surprise like Nan, but a surprise. First of all, though obviously over 50, she gave the impression of limitless energy. Secondly, though she was equally obviously of an older academic generation, she dressed like a woman who knew that she was a woman, not a neuter academic. She was wearing an autumn-y dress (though the weather was more like spring in New England -- and late spring at that), and her greying, once-auburn hair was neatly bobbed at just-above-shoulder length. And she was. Her eyes looked a little sad, and I wondered if I was going to have a problem. But she was better than that. “Of course. I understand.”It took her a little time to dress, but then she turned to the screen. “Bye, Sue. It was nice meeting you. I hope it’s all okay between you and Pete.” Her eyes were still sad, but even in her own sadness she was kind and thinking of others.“You too, honey. Sorry, Grace. Pete and I just need some space to talk.”Grace nodded her head and turned to look at me. She. What were my stakes? I took a deep breath and looked around my apartment. It was pretty empty, I realized. Not as spartan as Steve's bedroom, but still. Utilitarian furniture accumulated in bits and pieces through my college years. The scatter of books and papers and a few houseplants. My prized hockey possession—the autographed Joe Sakic jersey from the 2001 Stanley Cup Championship Season hanging framed on the wall. I wondered what Red Wings memorabilia Steve had tucked away.My eyes fell on.
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