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He slept over a couple of nights the first week; my mother put us on the sofa bed in the living room. The first night we stayed up talking about baseball. It seemed obvious he wanted to talk about other stuff but was trying to gain my confidence first.The next night he spent over, he directly attacked 'The Itch's' grip on me."Have you ever done 'The Thing'?" he asked. He said 'The Thing' the way I might have said 'The Itch'."I think so," I replied carefully. We stared at the ceiling to make sure we did not make eye contact."How does it feel?" he asked."Really good!" I said. I hoped we were talking about the same thing and not if I had more sexual experience than giving myself 'The Itch' while thinking of Rachel."How do you do it?"He turned to look at me; I looked at him. I had to open up, but part of me wanted to keep 'The Itch' to myself. I also wanted HIM to go first."I get on my stomach, and I rub myself against the bed," I said staring into his eyes. He smiled like he had a secret. And Senora Maria made chili today. You know it makes my tummy funny,’ she said as she rubbed her little stomach. He smiled at his little girl and laughed, ‘You know what they say sweetie? Beans are good for the heart. The more you eat the more you…’ He stopped as his face flamed a bright scarlet. ‘Sorry, Ma’am.’ His little girl looked from him to me and back again. ‘Fart,’ she said loudly. He grimaced and swatted at her with his dusty cowboy hat. ‘Joy, you know we shouldn’t say certain things round people. I really am sorry, Ma’am.’ I tried, I really tried to hold back the laughter, but they were so cute. But I could not as I saw unshed tears gathering in the corners of the little girl’s eyes from having disappointed her daddy. I did the only thing a mother can: I put my hand under my arm and made the loudest farting noise I possibly could. ‘Oh, excuse me,’ I giggled as laughter replaced tears. He looked up at me with such gratitude then. ‘So how about that dinner?’ He looked at his.
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