I still am.Linda told me when we decided to end our non-existent relationship that she had never been sure whether I wanted to be with her or with her...mother. That hurt mainly because there was some truth in it. I was still having a crush on Marjorie. A motherly peck on the cheek from Marjorie had had more impact on me than a kiss on the lips from Linda.That had been three years ago. Now I was standing close behind Marjorie with a slight scent of her perfume reminding me how much I had felt for. Fuck me."Mom?" I ask again.She looks up at me. She's been crying. I can tell."I'm sorry, Mom," I offer, but I don't know why. "I'm sorry."I just don't want her to be unhappy like this. It hurts to look at her.She drops the knife and pulls me to her bosom."Come here, you!" she embraces me tightly.I feel like she'll never let go. I'm stuck here. I want to be here. Ihate being here. I feel sexy. I feel warm. I feel loved. I feel despised.I bawl into her shoulder and squeeze her back."You shouldn't. More

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