At this point, it was clear that I was going to be doing all of the heavy lifting over the next some-odd hours that the three of us were together. Kit’s eyes were fixed on the doorway, waiting for his ride to arrive. Marilyn was otherwise occupied reconstituting the hospital room. All of my questions were proving to be conversation-enders, not -starters. And no one was laughing at my jokes. Marilyn, were you aware that I’m fucking your son? I informed her, giddily. Well, actually, he’s fucking me most of the time. I occasionally fuck him. The important thing to know is that we are fucking. A
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