"He's a good kid. He's smart, and he's sweet. What's to worry about?" "You never met his father," Nichole sighed. "He seemed sweet most of the time to..., but then he could turn into a real bastard." "Being an asshole isn't genetic," Rachel pointed out. "You worry too much, Sis. You need to learn to relax. Your whole life can't be just about work and taking care of your son. You need to have some fun. Go out and get laid for Christ's sake. How long has it been?" "Too long," Nichole grimaced as. I gazed at the corner and saw the overflowing washing basket and remembered what was asked of me. I dragged it down stair to the utility room I was all for emptying the lot into the machine when I remembered the mishap at home a few months ago with red socks. So still sleepy I emptied the contents on the floor and began to sift through Aunty Bev’s dirty laundry. It was an epiphany when I picked up the crumpled tan tights I don’t know why but I spread the gusset open and buried my face in them,. More

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