“We wanted to make sure everyone in the family was mature enough to understand and not freak out. We wanted to make sure you wouldn’t tell people,...even by accident, and start rumors. It might have made things weird for you at school or something. And then...”“He died.”Tears beaded my mom’s eyes. I held out my other arm for her. And then my mom was pressed against me, her face pressed into my neck, sobbing for my dad. She loved him a lot, probably as much as I loved Melody. Tears burned at my. Her personality is soft and quiet. And she smiles often. What drives me wild about it, is the fact that I do not always know what the smile means. Sometimes her smile looks almost knowing. Sometimes inviting. Sometimes as if she knows exactly what she is causing. Sometimes innocent.And it gets me hot and bothered.The other day, I needed to tell her something and when I called to hear where she was, she called softly and said: "I'm here - in the washing room". Knocking on the door again, I made. More

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