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Jenny was heartbroken.
    She sniffled, "and everything in my life is so broken all the time - I always wondered what life would’ve been like to have been normal, and the neighbors not constantly honing in on the drama of mom being taken away in an ambulance - being grateful that they had everything together, and think of the children! The little children next door!"
    "You might have thought the same thing as them, if everything was okay."
    "You're right."
    Silence, and only the sound of her breathing, and she was beautiful even when she was broken. This was never the right time to tell her this - but she was beautiful.
    "When I was five or so," the molasses of her voice synced with the dreariness of her demeanor, "my grandmother - mom's mom - was over watching us one time. Cathy was only one, I think. Dad was at work and mom was institutionalized at the hospital again for a couple weeks.
    "It's so fucked up, but I was exploring sex a little bit. As a child I think everyone does it, but there is something about the innocence of the age and the impulsiveness of being a child that we see nothing wrong with it. I had this little inflatable dolphin in the back yard - but you know our back yard, it isn't fenced in or anything and - well, I would get on this thing and hump it. It felt good, and no one was there to tell me it was wrong.
    "Until we got a visit from Social Services. They started investigating. They asked if I was being abused or something. One of the neighbors had called because they saw me humping my dolphin. From then on, social services was checking on me all the time, and no matter how much I told them that this was all a misunderstanding - well, however I could have said that at five years old - it was almost like with the world, and the neighbors, and the government watching, there really wasn't anything that I could have said."
    She paused.
    "I don't know why I just thought of that, but... Sometimes I think that mom is so crazy, and sometimes I think there is no wonder she does the things she does.
    "I'm so upset. I wish there was something that would change things back to... But then, I don't think they were ever okay."
    In times like this I had nothing to tell her. I wanted to tell her I knew what she meant, but I didn't. I wanted to tell her that everything would be ok, but that seemed empty, pointless, and self-serving. What did she want to happen out of all this?
    "What can I do for you?" I wanted to do everything.
    "Just be here for me, and that will be ok." She put the glass of water on the side table and nuzzled into me.  I stared at the ceiling. At this point, I would always counter her experience with a vain fantasy of our future. Some little dream that would make her feel better and that our future together would be normal and simple.
    "I can't wait until our band takes off and I can get you out of here. Just us. I’ll be successful and making music and changing the world, and the only reason I could even do that is because you’re there. You are the strength behind me. Every word, every note, everything for you."
    She looked up at me and her eyes brightened. A silvery half-moon of tears hung below her iris, held up by the shelf of her bottom eyelid. She was beautiful, even in this common, weekly destruction of her life.
    She crawled over me and pressed me down into the bed. Lifting my shirt up, a tear dripped onto my stomach. She unbuckled my pants, and then led her mouth down, and down, and down, and lifted me up.
    She sat up and took everything off, jumping on top of me and kissing me passionately. I rubbed against her, the damp dew of her sticking to my penis as she kissed and caressed and moved. This was the way of things - we would kiss, make out, and get each other off. There was something different about this time, however.
    "Is this okay?" She asked the question breathy and sure, and her voice and her kisses were all the persuasion I needed.
    "Yes," I whispered.
    "...and what about this?"