Hugging my netsister when she is fifteen hundred miles away is not thesame as hugging her in real life. Talking to her on the netis not the same as ju...t walking to her home and being withher. Rocking a thirty-year-old that needs to be my five-year-old daughter on the net is not the same as she iscrying and fighting sleep in my arms. I need to put her tobed with her stuffed dolls around her so she won?t feelalone and kiss her. I need to read her a Dr. Susse, watchher play on the swings, help her. I took some tea to break the tension. “Anyway, what did you both talk about yesterday?”“I’m afraid it’s privileged”, she said. “Client confidentiality.”I sighed, suddenly understanding that dollar. It came as an annoying surprise, considering I had been hoping to ask Mother for advice on Amanda, but as things were, she might have a pretty big conflict of interest. I ate some, trying to work out the angles.“I wish you’d let me keep her here”, I said, unready to discuss the other issue.“It wasn’t. Normally so confident in and out of the ring, she now looked like nothing more than a schoolgirl who needed attention and affection - *my* attention, *my* affection.It affected me intensely. My groin was rapidly stirring, and if part of me felt ashamed of the thoughts I was having at that moment, much of me was brimming in eager hope. In my head, however, my thoughts were going a mile a minute. While one side was telling me "You mustn't take advantage of her," the other was telling that side to. Come with me to the Post Friday night. It will be fine.”We got a babysitter for the kids that night, and Marilyn and I both went to the Legion Post in Parkton, where Brewster was to meet us. I had on a nice blue blazer and white shirt, with pressed khakis, and the only thing patriotic was a red, white, and blue striped tie. Marilyn was wearing a very pretty knee length dress, also in red, white, and blue, though it was a flowered print. I didn’t have a flag pin.Brewster took one look at me and.
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