”Jocelyn gasped and Doctor Henderson put her hand on my arm and squeezed. I shook it off and walked over to Jocelyn’s bed.“How do you want to do...it?” I asked. “Pillow over the face? Strangled with IV tubes? My .22 rifle?”“Mike!” Doctor Henderson protested.I ignored her.“Go on, Jocelyn, look me in the eyes and tell me you want to die and you want my help to make it happen.”“You can’t,” she whispered, and turned her head away from me.“And neither can you! May I stay and talk with you, please?”She. She had taken it in one gulp, then asked for and downed another.We had talked some, then had a couple more drinks. I had held her and she had held me. We had fallen asleep that way.I woke in the middle of the night with my arms still around my mom, only she had rolled over and I found my hands cupping her large breasts. I was eighteen, a senior in high school, and had never held a girl’s breast, much less my mom’s.Her large breasts were soft and pliable through her nightgown, and I could feel. More

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