She waited instead for him to strike upa conversation. When he remained silent and wouldn't look at her shefinally decided to break the deadlock."Are ...ou OK, Bobby? Do you feel OK?" Sure. I'm fine." Then what's the matter. You're acting as if I'm not even here."After a short pause he said, "Well, I guess I'm just a littleembarrassed about last night." Does that mean you don't want to look at me or talk to me anymore?" Oh, mom, no. It's just that - well, you know." No, Bobby, I don't know. Tell. She hummed a tune as she checked my credentials.“You made it trough the qualifiersI Great job! You probably heard this all before, but rules are rules. Gotta brief you anyways. Sorry about that.”She smiled apologetically, coughed once and completely changed her demeanor.“Alright, listen up Dude! The 129th Rasheul great slave tournament features a grand total of 128 combatants. In seven nail biting and chest pounding fights you will have to hack, slash, bite and blow your way to victory in a no. That means that, in the eyes of the community, I was a man. In our community, men were men, women were women, and men became men when they had partaken in the Bar Mitzvah. Which made me ... a man.As a man, I was expected to do certain things. First of all, I was expected to partake in the religious responsibilities that came with being one. Second of all, I was expected to watch over the younger members of my family when my mother was unable to do so. Third of all, I was expected to find a job. We crossed our legs. She poured a little milk into each china cup from a jug then poured in the Earl grey. We sipped tea. I stuck my pinkie out whilst drinking which made her laugh. We nibbled sandwiches, looked into each others eyes, rubbed ankles together showing off our heels. She tugged gently on my boa. "Suits you" she said. Tea and sandwiches hit the spot. Small cakes were next. Pastry, sponge, icing and cream. Mmmmmm I thought. She looked straight at me when she bit half way into a cream.