Suddenly Dana ran from the bathroom to her room and slammed the door screaming, “MOOOM! Michael just walked into the bathroom while I was i... the shower! You little pervert!” Michael just sighed and went towards his room, knowing that was the only safe place in the world for him. He locked the door from the inside and got on his computer, drowning out the sound of his mother knocking furiously on the door with a shuffled iPod. The night passed with almost no incident besides. . He had done spacewalks before but only as a tourist. Those tethered, kindergarten-safe trips probably had little resemblance to workers in a vacuum storage yard. He had been hoping for one of those two seater putter carts with a driver.His deepest fear was the constant TSC paranoia whose core element was a lack of professionalism. The reports were written in an obvious style with strict formatting, precise grammar and distinct forms of presentation. The content behind the presentations were on. Patrick ask Heidi, “Do you have a preference for a drink?”“How about just a nice glass of wine. Maybe a Cabernet?” she says to him.“Jill, your usual, a merlot?” I ask.Patrick orders a cabernet for Heidi and a dark beer for himself. I order a merlot for Jill and a coke for myself.“You don’t drink?” Patrick asks me.“No, not really,” I tell him.“Anyone want to order an appetizer?” I ask.No one seems all that interested in having an appetizer at the bar. “Heidi, are you from this area?” I ask. We’d never professed out love for each other. We’d made no plans to meet again – or even to communicate by phone or in writing. Was our relationship over – as it clearly appeared to be? Had I ever really been in love with her, particularly since it developed on the rebound from Angie? If I loved her, how could I keep doing threesomes with Evie and Lori? That summer at the pool had been emotionally tempestuous. Was it possible that I’d actually loved and lost Angie mere days before falling in.