“Do I take my old bedroom?”
She grabbed the shiny brass knob and opened the door.
“It’s my office now.”
Filing cabinets, a printer, and a roll-top desk sat atop a dhurrie rug of Southwestern design.
“You have a brand-new en suite bedroom. I got it all ready for you.”
When she led him into where he’d sleep, he saw that the rehab was not without his father’s typical frugality. He recognized a table lamp, once in the living room, its pleats now caked with dust, and a familiar tall oak dresser from his parents’ bedroom. But what he would have given in his horny adolescence for his own, attached bath. He never would have left except to eat, sustenance to resume jerking off.
He turned. “Where’s your bedroom now?”
“Next to Dad’s, so I’d hear him. I may move.”
“Out of here, or to another b
