I guess she was scared for him, but more scared for herself, as any objective person would say she was coming across like a raving loon. After only a few weeks of arguing, my mother left. I’ve always been more close with my father than my mother, so it was easy to side with my dad. Besides, she left him. Those first few nights without my mother in the house, I slept with my father. I cuddled with him and to this day, it has always been non-sexual, non-perverted – a line was never crossed. He always had pajamas on and always made me feel safe. If he touched me occasionally, it was to rub the back of my head. I loved my dad. Unfortunately, after a couple of days I was afraid to go to sleep by myself.At seemingly the same time, my father started to encourage me sleeping in my room again. He was never mean – never laid a finger on me – but ultimately through his drinking at night, I got scared enough for his health that I couldn’t sleep with him anymore. One night I knocked on my Raju’s. And to see if they might be the recipient of a few more choice words from his rather lengthy vocabulary of profanity.But his voice caught in his throat. His tilted roller bag fell to the floor. His mouth hung open, trying to accept what he just saw."My, you really are smooth, ya know." She smiled at him. "I thought you'd be shorter in person."She was the fellow weary traveler. He had seen her so many times over the years. Talked to her. Joked with her. They had e-mail, IM'd, cammed, chatted, cybered, and about every other virtual verb that had been developed so far. His wife had teased him about her more than once. She always found the flirting rather cute.This, however, was unanticipated.It was his turn to speak, but all he could do was stare. He caught himself searching her body with his eyes, seeing it in three dimensions for the first time. As he scanned past the mostly-hidden curves and valleys that he knew were hidden beneath her coat, he felt his gut twist and turn, as if he.
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