The next six weeks leading up to Fiona’s 22nd birthday were very tense at home. When Fiona was home, she rarely said more than short sentences and she avoided answering any of my concerns. She told me if I had a problem that it was up to me to do something about it. She even suggested that I see a therapist.
“Maybe you could tell your therapist about your valentine date,” she goaded.
I stayed very busy during that six weeks. I volunteered to show as many properties as my reality office could assign me. I made repairs around the house and I began working out at the local men’s gym down town. I did not allow myself to go visit Lilly even though she called almost once a week to invite me over for dinner. With all of the lurid ideas I had racing around in my brain concerning my sexy mother-i
