In the morning when she was awoke by her boyfriend bringing her coffee in bed, she thought of the old man, and felt horny again. As she dressed she stood in her underwear and blue shirt, company issue, and she wondered what he would do if he could see her as she stood in front of the mirror.At work as she loaded the mail up into the sack, she searched to see if he had any, he did not, and her heart sank, why she did not know, but her feeling between her legs spoke differently, she possessed information about this man, and she was keeping it to herself for her own reasons, how could she be sexually attracted to him, 'Fuck she thought, this job is boring, except for this man'.When she drove onto the street she was excited, she confessed to that, but as she drove past his house the doors were locked, and he did not make an appearance, 'I was gutted', she admits, 'This old guy really hit my soft spot, and today he stays out of sight'. She was frustrated at not seeing him, her little. During the six months they were separated, I had been left at school for hours as secretaries and teachers desperately tried to get in contact with her to pick me up. It was a lonely time.Abigail was so young then. I would go to her and hold her, finding comfort in the warmth of her hugs. She needed me and that felt good. Even though I was too young to fully understand the situation, I intuitively knew it was just the two of us. We had each other and that would have to be enough. I would sing to her and promise her that things would get better. A beautiful prince would come to save me and he would ask me to marry him. I would take her with me and we would never be alone again. He would swoop us off to a faraway castle where adults were happy and men stayed.Eventually Dad moved home. I went from wondering where he was to wondering why dinner was always so silent. He never smiled anymore. Mom stopped crying; now she was just eerily silent. Some nights I would visit her in bed and lie.
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