"Oh Frannie, then, my Luigi -- he went downtown all by hiself and he said, 'Mama I'm gonna do the shopping for Christmas dinner.' He was eleven years old, Frannie and he was so cute. I got pictures when you come to Rhode Island. Papa, what was that dessert we had-- the one I got from Mrs. Kanakis from down the street. Luigi? Luigi? LUIGI!"

*****

Luigi is out of his damn mind! Who ever thought it's a nice thing to be friends with your parents once you grown up and move out of the house?

I sneak out the kitchen door and sit on the stoop for a while, breathing hard, as if I'm suffocating on my mother's monologue. Fran plops herself down, lighting a cigarette.

"I don't even smoke and look what you've done to me."

"I'm sorry, Fran. I forgot how she can be.

"Does she ever come up for air? She's like a Humpback Whale, Eric. All she needs are the barnacles!"

We bust up badly and Mama starts calling for us. I pause, ready to go inside when Fran touches my arm.

"You look like a deer in the headlights. Go visit Greg and Drew... I'll keep the whale swimming."

*****

I walk towards the guest house-- looking forward to the comfort of Drew's smile. When mom and dad have migrated back to the East Coast, I'm going to do something special for him. Trip to Palm Springs? Trip to-

CLICK.

What was that sound?

CLICK, CLICK.

I peer through an adjacent window.

Naked.

Ass.

CLICK.

Blond.

Blue eyes.

The blue eyes of my lover, Andrew. His smile. The constant CLICKING of the camera as Greg hovers above him in the small room.

Wine.

Chest hair.

Balls.

God.

Oh, my God.