I went into some serious counseling, just short of a rehab program. I learned a lot about myself, things I didn't want to learn. I'm trying to change,...be a better person, and it took the kindness of a stranger to set me on that path. That, sir, is what I wanted to thank you for."I looked at the women, they sat there like they expected me to say something."All I can say is you're welcome. Anyone would have done the same. And I'm glad you've decided to be a better person, we could all use a few. “Sometimes I feel fine, then it hits me that your dad's dead. That...” she swallowed. “That it's my fault. And then I weep and weep until I feel wrung out.” The doorbell rang. “Oh, Antsy, could you answer that. I need to speak to your brother in private, anyways.” “Sure,” Antsy said, heading for the door. “Follow me, Mark,” mom said and lead me to her bedroom. The carpet in the hallway had been ripped up. It's where my dad died. I guess it was ruined. “What is it, mom?” I asked. “I'm not. Go ahead, tell me what you think." Well, I think it was -- primitive. And, sure, the noise scared me a couple of times. But, jeez, Sandy, there's a big difference between being startled, momentarily, by a sudden noise, and being threatened by a 95 mile-per-hour fastball coming at your head." You mean, because one instance of being frightened was clearly only a lab experiment." Well. I mean, I wasn't in any real danger from your noisemaker -- what the hell was making that noise, anyway?" It was. “Oh, Angela.”Startled that he had actually said my real name, for the first time in a long time. I turned my face away, looking out the open door to the hallway. I tugged at his wrist, but his fingers were engaged.He kissed my neck and repeated, “Oh, Angela.”I could have gone with it. It did feel good. That kind of attention is what daydreams are made of. But, at least at this moment, it’s not going to be with Brett Hammond.I heard the back door open and shut. Someone was coming.“I can’t,” I.