In 15 minutes, Bob was in the living room of our small apartment. Sitting on a cheap Ikea couch, he tried to kiss my mom and she let him. He then proceeded to maul her mammoth tits and once again, she let him. When he put his hand around her ass and tried massaging it, I rang the doorbell and mom jumped up. "I will get some coffee before you tear my clothes off you naughty boy." she chided him playfully and then opened the door letting me in. "Bob, meet my son Larry. Larry, this is Bob." I acted shy. A teenager should be shy around older men. After mom left, I stayed in the living room, looking at Bob. I was fishing for information. "So you are my mom's boyfriend?" I asked innocently. "What?" Bob was startled. " She told me she was spending time with you." I could see this made Bob uncomfortable. He wanted to get out. I had to find a way to stop him and make him feel comfortable. "My mother is very dedicated to you. She told me you are married to a passive agressive bitch who. That night after another bout of discussions about artificial insemination and adoption, our argument continued. I paused, hesitant to raise the issue again, but said softly, "Why can’t we adopt." I screamed at him. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I don't want to raise someone else's baby, Akila. You never know to what kind of people those 'adoptable' babies are born, it could be any poor low lifes." I continued to cry softly as all avenues to motherhood were closed to me. It seemed I would never have a baby, and I felt bereft. Feeling more alone than ever, I curled around my pillow and cried myself to sleep. The door bell rang. When I opened it there stood Ajith, my cousin. Hadn’t seen him in over ten years. He had gone for his studies to the United states. “Hey Akila.. how are you?” He demanded walking into the apartment. He was his flamboyant self. I offered him tea and we talked about the old days. He was married with three kids. He had married an Italian girl. The topic turned to.
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