This is not what I needed today. It was the fifth anniversary of my mother's passing, and I was feeling low as is. Charles had asked me to drive out to the gravesite with him this afternoon, but I declined as I always did. It was still, after all this time, too soon. Our relationship, however, was becoming to gel more in a normal fashion.In our mutual grief, by agreement, I had assumed a more formal role in Charles life. I had stepped completely into the shoes of my mother. However, still, it was not a satisfying life. It was stagnant and staid. Therefore, over the past five years, out of pure boredom and self-absorption, I let the surgeons perform considerable work on me. Whatever I wanted - what ever they wanted. When I first, literally, held up a Barbie doll and said simply "make this me" they wavered between thinking, it was a joke or thinking I was a bit off. Nevertheless, I convinced them that this was the blue print. I wanted them to work from. They of course did not argue. . There'd been no awkward moments, no hugs that went on too long, no almost-kisses, nothing like that. She'd managed to keep her feelings under wraps. After last night, she wasn't sure she'd be able to much longer. Not when they were planning this charade for the holiday, and not when she'd be sharing a bed with him again. As she got ready for her shower, she could feel her insecurities rising up again. I do not want to deal with this. I can't. My boss wants three projects due when I don’t have time for one. Mom has been all over me about Simon. Now this . . . Stepping under the hot water, she decided she just would have to sort it out in her head and talk later. She just needed to get through Thanksgiving, which mercifully was only five days away, and three of those would be occupied with work. It was difficult, though, to ignore what had happened. She'd dreamed about it, hoped for it, and then . . . she'd almost had it. x-x-x-x Simon woke up and out of habit reached out to smack the.
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