I remember going to the funeral with my mother who was a year older than Anita. Anita was my aunt. She never married and in those days you were called...an « old maid » or a « spinster ». Mother never mentioned her. I don’t know why but I wanted to find out about Anita. When I finished university, I was 22 and took a year off. My stepfather thought I needed a break and he needed expenses for his company. I was hired…to do nothing. I headed for Pittsburgh and to the Veteran’s Hospital. I won’t. It was as if we were catching up on intimacy after spending most of the school year too scared of losing our friendship to take the steps into becoming a relationship. The sex was the same as when we were 'nottogether'. But the cuddling and acknowledgement that yes, we loved each other as boyfriend and girlfriend, produced a perpetual state of happiness for the both of us that was contagious, brightening the moods of everyone who saw us together. Heck, even my dad confided in me that his sex. One ... two ... three.I gave the port man a look, “You poor sap.”“What?”“Good lord, sir ... how many bodyguards have you hired to protect those?” I said, “Didn’t you have any boys?”“These are the ones at home ... there’s two married.”“All girls?”“They take after their mother ... thank God.“Agnes...” mom stepped forward, shook my hand and nodded. I don’t know if she was nodding at me or approving her husbands call.“Alice...” the about 11 year old gave me a look ... a very appraising look. A. “I’m going to take a shower to wash the creep off me,” I said, giggling a little bit trying to lighten the mood a little. He chuckled and helped me up off the bed. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked raising his pierced brow. I just nodded and gave him a small smile. After my shower, my skin was all red and blotchy from scrubbing so hard. I sighed as I dried myself off and changed into some underwear and an old shirt. I went into my room and realized I had left my phone in the.