I was already awake after what had been a restless night of tossing and turning as the events of the previous twenty-four hours replayed over and over...in my head. Everything had changed yet nothing had changed. Not really. Mom would still be Mom and I'd still be her socially awkward nerdy Son, Henry Peterson Aged 18 and a bit. But now there was a knowing frisson of secrecy between us. Something that no one else must ever know about. Pseudo-incest of the first kind. The obvious question would be. “Yes dear, you have a solo for us?” I said never having heard of such a thing.“Michael,” she said in that marvelous accent, “This is called, ‘Too Cool for Shorts.’”There was a group chuckle.Mostly pizzicato, and slapping, this big beautiful instrument came to life in her hands.Both piccolo players played the “Canto XIII” together.After everyone who wanted to did the same thing, I told them to bundle up their instruments, they were being taken home. Nobody really minded. It had been a very. ”The man just stands there staring. Tabitha isn’t wearing anything revealing or even sexy. She has on a simple shirt and pair of shorts. The shirt is loose and the shorts aren’t very short at all. But he stares at here like he is trying to bore his eyeballs right them the material to see what is beneath.“Um, yes,” he says after a moment. “Catherine is going out with her girlfriends and Tony has a game. I have a little party after work so we need someone to watch the twins.”Although George was. He had been leaning against the kitchen counter, smoking a cigarette.“Daddy?” Violet said quietly, the word catching in her throat. She hadn't had a drink in days. Patrick ignored her, taking another drag of his cigarette and watching the smoke swirl through the air as he blew it out. “Daddy, I need the toilet,” she whimpered. Patrick continued to ignore her and Violet continued to repeat the request. “I need the toilet. Please, I really need to go!” She sat with one bare leg crossed over the.