Yes, I realized this was not that unusual inasmuch as Stephie had my mother’s genes, but suddenly I was picturing my mother differently---not as my ...other, but as a woman; a tall, long-legged and shapely woman. Willie Martin, one of my over-sexed, but closest friends, was unabashed in comparing her to various movie stars and not shy at all about telling me he thought she had great tits and was always trying to catch a glimpse up her skirt or down her blouse while drinking a Pepsi as my mother. He placed his laundry soap and fabric softeneron top of it all, leaving it on the table while he made a pit stop inthe bathroom before making the drive home.The door gave a familiar creak as Peter entered, the rusty spring nearthe top closing it behind him. Its simple slide-bolt lock had long-since fallen into disrepair. The bathroom was a narrow little rectangleof a room where a single-bulb fixture provided minimal lighting. Thewalls were covered in cheap oak-finish paneling that contrasted. I laughed and took it, shaking it in response. “Listen, if you’re ever in Baltimore, call me. We’ll get a babysitter, and I can bring my wife and you can bring yours, and all of you can yell at me. I’m sure I’m going to hear about this one from Marilyn!”“I’ll do that.”I drove home, and Marilyn teased me about getting poor Tim Russert a pay cut and a divorce in just ten minutes. It made me think, though. Tim was going to eventually die at the age of fifty-eight of a massive heart attack caused. There’s one tonight. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”“Uhm...”“Your address?”I gave it to her.After school I called Carol, my girlfriend. She was plain and chubby, but we got along well. We took each other’s virginity. My best friend, in the basement of another friend’s remarkably permissive parents, all of us stoned on pot and drunk on a bottle of Southern Comfort, remarked that I could do better than Carol. Except none of my friends had girlfriends at that moment. Maybe they were choosier? But.