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.. Wipe Out was playing in my gut.A bite ... the body knew ... the mind did backflips."He likes it," Wendy said.Stepmom agreed.The maids cleared away those plates and served the karjalanpaisti with perunarieska (hot potato flatbread with melted butter) on the side.Very soon it was the click and clank of silver on ceramic and the voices of teen age girls talking about the WRC drivers.I was concentrating on the food. A green salad was last ... desert ... at least for me. Replete, the napkins laid aside and the knife set on the last plate. Finished.Stepmom nodded to the girls, "I want to talk to David." It was like the queen had said 'Leave Us." "Wendy? You stay."Stepmom was perhaps 23 ... and very much a trophy wife. Certainly, she had born none of the children ... not with that body. Her dress and manner was of the upper class ... it was her duty to be the perfect hostess, conversationalist and companion to a man of wealth.We retired to the main room. The fire took the chill off. She. It was the subject of gossip around here for weeks.’ ‘Mom, I don’t think…’ She held up her hand and interrupted, ‘Steve, don’t tell me. I shouldn’t have asked in the first place. It’s none of my business.’ Mom got up from the sofa and came around the back of my chair. She bent over and kissed the top of my head. ‘I know you love Sarah as much as I loved your father when I was your age. I’m not going to mention our conversation with him. Steve, please be careful. Good night.’ She turned and went upstairs to bed. Now I was confused. She was always telling me to be careful. Did she just give me her approval to have sex with Sarah or not? Her conversation was too ambiguous for me to decide. The only thing I was completely sure about was that Sarah’s parents and mine had sex before they were married. From that, I gathered that it would be hypocritical for them to chasten Sarah and me when they had done the same thing. The next time I saw Sarah, I told her about my conversation with Mom..
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She wasn’t.She was sitting on the bed, still in her jeans and T-shirt, holding her collar in her hands.“Wendy? Tiger, is something wrong? Have I hurt you?”“No, Tony. If you want me naked on my knees, I’ll gladly take that position. But I thought maybe what you needed just now was a friend.”“You know me better than anyone else.”“No. Surprisingly, we all know you pretty well, but when we put what we know together, we know you better than anyone.”She scooted up and leaned against the headboard, motioning me to sit next to her. When we were settled, she put her arm around me and just held me. I sorted through what I was feeling and felt the tickle of emotions. Sorrow, depression, anger, disgust, and even hope.“Tell me about today’s painting,” she finally said.I told her. I told her about all the emotions it dredged up for me to paint it and how mad I got because we just weren’t doing anything. How I realized the entire mural was meaningless or worse because it gave us an excuse to believe.

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