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"Two years after it happened, I come home and the house smelled like cookies, I didn't know why. I grabbed a beer and sat down in my chair and started drinking. The TV was on but I couldn't tell what the program was, I was so tired I wasn't paying attention. Dori came in, and bent over and kissed me, and when she kissed me I caught a brief glimpse of her breasts down her shirt and I pulled her on top of me. We kept kissing and I was rubbing her back under her shirt and we started heading upstairs. Just like that. She still had her oven mitt on.

And we stripped out of our clothing and got onto the bed and everything happened so gradually and so naturally we didn't even think about how long it had been, and I lifted her up onto my face and went down on her. It had been years. It was like I was seventeen and just discovering her body, just so full of lust and excitement. I flipped her over and did her from behind and then with her on top and I kept pushing the hair out of her face so I could look at her and she came and I came and we laid down next to each other in silence.

And that's when it hit us. We felt so good, but it wasn't pure. We felt right for a second, and content. And then we felt guilty, so entirely cheap and petty we could barely stand it. It was like the time we had a nice dinner and went to the movies last month, and stayed up all night talking. For me, it was like last summer when we went to the World Series and won and celebrated. It was the first time we'd had sex since that bastard murdered our son, and it hurt to think that we could go that long, just a couple of hours without thinking about him, for it to happen. It hurt to think that we were getting on with our lives."