They were all laughing and kissing and slipping hands where they shouldn’t be.And then with a ragged chorus of quiet goodbyes, my girlfriend and her stepfather were gone and my parents went back upstairs.There wasn’t much Scotch left by the time I was ready to go to bed, so I topped it up with tap water and placed it exactly where it had been. The master criminal/detective, full of alcohol and incriminating evidence but clear-headed enough to cover his tracks. So it was Sunday morning and Mandy and Bradley would be in church (as would my parents, perish the thought). Mrs Hubert, who was disillusioned with religion and life itself, would be at home, working on the Sunday roast.I waited for my parents to leave and then had a quick but thorough shower before grabbing my bike – that soon-to-be-ditched symbol of innocence – and was at the Hubert house in two minutes.I went around to the back door, which I knew would be unlocked, and marched into the kitchen. And there she was, chopping. "Oh! It's okay," Jenny said. "He's just the landlord."That seemed to reassure the young lady and she smiled at me with a look of relief on her face and left."Please, sit," Jenny said. She took off her coat and sat on the very chair that she had scolded me from nearly a year ago."I ... I've been doing a lot of thinking," she started, shyly. Her eyes were to the floor, she wouldn't look at me. "I've been thinking about you ... a lot."I was surprised by this confession and eager to hear more."I was hard on you, that time, you know ... and I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have been such a bitch." Oh, Jenny," I said. I got up. I wanted to hug her."Wait!" She stopped me. "Wait, there's more I want to say."Growing up, I always had this idea of what I wanted my life to be like. What normal was like. I pictured what my boyfriend would be like. What he would look like, what he would wear. He was tall, handsome, with long strands of hair that dangled in front of his eyes. He was strong,.
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