”“Wh … what … ?”“Panty lines, Bryan.” Her eyes studied mine. “On your face.”I felt my head going side-to-side with some unauthorized...and hapless attempt to deny what she was saying.“Bryan, I've been around. I know she was sitting on your face---everytime you came over here. Just admit it. Besides ... you're not the first.”Not the first? What?“I'm quite sure she's being doing it for quite some time.” She sipped some beer and then with surprising indifference added, “Like mother; like daughter.”I. "Johnny," she gasped as she rushed over to the bed and laid her hand gently on my head. "Oh, my poor baby."Yeah, kinda chokes me up too, when I think back on it. My mom, who had such difficulty dealing with the emotional part of being a mother, was suddenly June Cleaver.For the first time I noticed the man who followed my mom into my room. My eyes almost bugged out of my head when I saw who it was. I was a teenage boy and as such it was incumbent on me to be blasé about everything. But holy. More

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