”“What makes you happy, Mom?”“You make me very happy, David.”“I mean what did you used to do that you really liked to do?”Thinking thoug... the fog was a chore but her face suddenly lightened and there was a slight smile. “Dancing. Your father used to take me dancing when we were first married. Slow dancing. Romantic dancing. I so enjoyed that.”David went to the stereo, put on some romantic instrumental music and returned.“Dance with me, Mom.”“Oh, Honey, I haven’t danced in years.”“No excuses.. Crissy turned to me. “You can be our Pharaoh. You could pretend she’s my mom. I bet that would turn you on.”I let out a sound of protest. “I could never…” I said.“It’s OK,” said Crissy. “You can imagine whatever you want. Pretend I’m your little girl, if you like. I don’t mind.”“Look,” said Dr. Fitzgerald, “if this ever gets out… Not a word to anyone, either of you.”“Of course not!” cooed Crissy, arms still wrapped, kissing her on the cheek.“I won’t tell,” I said.“You have to promise,” said Dr.. More

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