I’m on my bed. You’re in minimal make-up, maximal wholesome mom mode. Dad’s gone out to that thing he has, we should talk about what I saw. Yes, that was my bully you were with. You’re friends, it’s not that strange, people can be friends even though you’re a lot older etc. (Why?) People can be friends for all kinds of reasons, hard to explain. (Ask him to stop?) You’re a little puzzled – (convey but don’t say, Don’t I understand? Am I really going to make you SAY it?) “Well… sweetheart… if I do that… and he stops bullying you… … … what’s he gonna talk about while he’s f–king me?”
