And still he kissed me and I felt him everywhere and I wanted him and I knew he wanted me and it was torture, Michael, it was torture but it was so sw...et I wanted to die.”She turned to me, her eyes wide, as though startled by the run of her words.“His kisses are fabulous, Michael. Fabulous.” She leaned close to whisper, “And he comes a lot, too.” She grinned. “A lot.”Sofía moved forward a little more, far enough for her small breasts to touch me briefly. “It’s fun to play, Michael, you know. . . etc. . . in one of those family things that go on and on and, in which, as in a house of mirrors, what one sees depends upon where one is standing.. At the edges of the screaming match, Jeff’s mom circles, head turning back and forth, as if watching a tennis match, pleading. ‘Bob, stop, let’s go home, honey, please. Jeff don’t! Stop! He’s your father’ Back and forth. The old man had sat in his beloved car, (all his dad’s cars are beloved, since most of his life has been spent not owning. More

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