Mature over 50

"What's the matter with you?" I demanded. "Oh, Nuthin', CHAWHLIE," she snickered. I had noticed mature over 50 too: the deep Bronx accent. I tried for years to imitate the way Carlo said my name but never even came close. Accents were relatively new to us, and we found them positively charming. "So you guys went to high school together?" Cynthia asked. "Yes, ma'am," I answered. "That's 'yes, SIN,'" Carlo corrected, "We're not anything special, and certainly don't expect 'Sir' or 'ma'am.'" Ok, our first major bubble burst. We had always been led to believe that New York people were cold, impersonal, even unfriendly. That certainly wasn't the case with these two. "You certainly seem to be good friends," Sin observed idly, "It seems we never see one of you without the other." "That's because we're... well, we're more than friends," Kelly explained. Oh shit! I said to her with my eyes, Why in the hell did you have to say that? "I'm sorry Charlie," Kelly said to me, "But I'm sick to death of lying. And living right under us they're gonna find out anyway, so we might as well be honest." "So what you're saying," Carlo speculated, "Is that you're... uh..." "We're lovers," I finished the sentence for her, "Yes we are. We've been together about four years." Well, that was that. I was convinced that we'd just made our first enemies. We finished the meal in relative silence, then Carlo announced she had to go to the frat house for a while, so we went upstairs to our own apartment to study. Saturday morning Carlo was knocking on our door around 9 AM. We weren't sure what to expect, but after we'd let her in she just said "Look, about what you told us last night.