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"We have to goshopping to get you some clothes of your own. Then we go back to thedoctor's office. Dr. Mann said the tests came in and he wants to talk tous this afternoon."Rob wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea. "Do I really have to?" hesaid. Frustratingly, his voice sounded whiney. "I think there's no choice," Deb answered. "You really can't go aroundwearing Jen's clothes every day." Rob was a little bit puzzled. After all, they hadn't even heard back fromDr. Mann yet. What if he had some antidote already that would reversethis? Then he wouldn't need new clothes. He started to say, "No. Let'swait to hear from Dr. Mann first." But instead of that authoritativestatement, he heard himself saying, "Maybe we could see Dr. Mann first.Wouldn't that work?"Deb paused. "Oh, sweetie," she said. "Don't get your hopes up. I reallydon't think Dr. Mann will be able to fix this today." "We really do needto get you clothes of your own." That made sense. He felt glad that Deb was thinking this. "Good night, Ryan. I'll pray for you," she said before she hung up.In less than a minute, I was dressed and running for the car. In less than ten, I tried Bart's front door. It was unlocked. I quietly let myself in and tiptoed to the living room. A bunch of them were sitting around naked, drinking beer and shooting the shit.There was Bart in his easy chair. Bart-one of my two best friends. A groomsman at our wedding. I knew Bart would fuck anything, but I thought he'd leave my wife alone out of friendship if nothing else. His wife, Betty, was a sweet and giving woman. I liked her. But she was a certifiable slut. Hell, I slept with her before she dated Bart and she had offered herself to me regularly since then. I knew they were wife swappers because both of them had approached me about Lana and me joining their club.There were my other friends-Bill and Jack and Little Jeff and Pete and Andy.Betty, wearing a sweatshirt that covered to her crotch, came in from the kitchen with two.
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And always with the inappropriate touching. I honestly hate the kid,” I said.“You hate the kid that has grown up without a mother?" She said in a slow voice, intended to shame me for what I said.After this, I sensed that her tone was a bit different for the rest of the car ride. I didn’t care. Instead, l continued with my argument. “There are a number of people at work that have doubts about his story,” I said.“And you are one of them?” she said“Yes I'm one of them,” I replied. “What makes you doubt his stories?” she asked.“Well, the fact that he claims to have helped so many people during the years, and all of them living in the city, yet none ever come to say hello. His only friend is Dennis, as far as we know. Who has supposedly known him for the last decade, didn't know any of the names Erik has brought up of his supposed true friend’s through the years. Don't you think that is a little odd?” I asked.“Denis is a drunkard, how much can we rely on his memory?” she said.“Denis is a.

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