He shrugs his shoulder, again he fidgets with his hands.

"You know I’ve been seeing her since they split?"

"Yeah, dad told me he was glad the whore was finally moving on. Less stress for him."

I laugh as the words spill out of my mouth. He gives me a hurt look; I quickly stop with the laughter and clear my throat.

"Sorry, so what about her?"

He smiles, an odd twinkle forms in his eyes.

"We’ve been having a bit of trouble lately…. I wanted to talk to your father, he was with her and I thought he might be willing to help me out a bit, you know tell me what I’m doing wrong. I realize that sounds ridiculous asking a man why his ex isn’t as affectionate as she once was, but when I first told your father I wanted to be with her he encouraged me, told me I could come to him for help…. I think he meant it, probably just to keep her occupied with things other than him."

He briefly pauses. I give him an apprehensive look as he silently continues to fidget with his hands.

"I know we’ve only been together for a few months, but she’s just changed so much since we first got together."

I let out a disgusted grunt, not wanting to imagine my mother and him ‘together’.

"She’s so distant."

He pauses again, scooting a bit closer to me.

"I think she’s still in love with your father."

Knowing that my mother is still head over heels in love with my father I say nothing. Although I may be ruthless bitch a liar I am not.

"Do you think she’s still in love with him?"

He asks this with so much sorrow in his voice, I decide to show him a bit of compassion.

"I think she likes you a lot."

A defeated sigh leaves his lips.

"That’s just a polite way of saying she still loves him."

I look away from his defeated form. From the corner of my eyes I watch him as he pulls a small silver flask from his pocket and take four large mouthfuls. Once again he moves closer to me. I stare back at him, wanting to remove myself from the situation.

"I’ve been in love with her since college."

I nod, trying my best to keep an interested smile across my face.

"Why doesn’t she love me?"

He leans back against the couch, taking another long drink from his flask. Eventually he leans forward, his eyes scan my face. I flinch as one of his rough hands rests on my arm.

"You know, you look just like your mother."