‘I’m worried about you, baby,’ she said. I smiled, took the offered cup of cocoa. ‘I’m okay,’ I said. She stepped up beside me in the chil...y air. ‘You know, it’s not like you to keep things to yourself, Alyssa,’ she said. ‘Haven’t we always talked?’ ‘I’m not—’ I began, then stopped. Mom was right. Hell, she always was, right? ‘I met a guy, and . . . it was nice, and fun, and . . . perfect . . . for a while.’ My mother smiled, massaged my shoulder. ‘Ah, first love,’ she said wistfully. I managed. She knew that this was someone who had not visited before, because she had never been asked to greet someone wearing only a thin slip, with neither underwear or a dress. She guessed there would not be much play-acting with this visitor; he would, as some of the others did, simply use her and go. The contrast with 'Papa' who had visited her three times and always wanted an elaborate charade of a school girl in the evening, and who always stayed the night, could not be greater.Although her room. More

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