I said: “i wish you’re my mother.”“why? Don’t you like her?€â€œno, she always finds faults with me. My fathe... also angry with me.”“i know. I know.”Then she leaned forward and I could feel the softness of her breasts on my back. She kissed my nape and said, “i like you.” I could keep no more silent. I blurted out: “i wish you’re my mother.”She laughed.I was hurt at her laughter. I remained silent for a moment feeling the smoothness of her hand on my back. €œcan I. His … girlfriend… the idea of having two girlfriends still jarred him disconcertingly… nodded, going on explain how she and this odd singing group she’d joined years ago would sing for the dying, those in hospice care, or other stages of illness that left them bed-ridden. All of it was an event that was sometimes as much for the family, as for the patient. A concept that he had never heard of before, and one that seemed strangely …holy… though he knew neither of the girls were practicing. More

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