Don’t ever try to call either. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.’ It was the hardest, and yet the easiest, thing I’d ever done in my...life. Without another word, I turned and walked away, the sound of Heather’s hysterical sobbing in my ears as I climbed into my car and drove away. *** The next few days were a blur. I spent the night at a motel, giving Heather enough time to gather her things and leave before I returned to the house. I half expected, half hoped, that she’d still be. I remember seeing June and the looks of horror on her face before I finally did pass out with shock setting in. June's horror was seeing my arm seeming to blowup internally and filling with blood. It was like I was bleeding out within myself.When I came to consciousness my arm was heavily splinted and boarded at a slight angle at my side. June was there, as was Coach Winters. Once I got cobwebs lose and seemed lucid enough to understand they explained my situation. Weeks before, when I was hit. This particular day I wasn't thinking about babies. I was thinking about getting the inside of my house painted. Joe's not the handy type. He delegates responsibility, which means that he's more than happy to pay for someone else to do the work. He left me the checkbook and told me to take care of hiring someone to paint while he was out of town since he wasn't fond of the smell of paint.I was looking online to try to find a painter when I came across an ad for a company called Student. I imagined his mom's endless plight to maintain him in fitting shoes.Getting his attention by tossing an empty pop can at him, startled, he removed one ear piece and looked at me questioningly."Come over here, sport." I motioned for him to sit on the dog-house beside me."What?" he asked, struggling to spread his legs wide due to the cramped space, perfect for my objective to insert my right hand up his shorts and fondle him."Thought ya might like a hand-job, that's all."He didn't answer, but.