I knew mom was right. And I knew I was soin love with mom, but I could never tell her. Ever.“Did I ever tell you why I fell in love with your da...?”Mom asked, smiling with a faraway look on her face.I thought about it a few moments. Then I said “I don’tthink so, mom.”“The first time I saw him I felt I knew him. I felt socomfortable with him, and I trusted him. I never trust aman until I got to know him.Well, I did once before. When I was fourteen. I met aboy. He said, “There! All done. Nasty old hair gone.” And then he slapped me on my hip and leaned back.I turned to my mother, who didn’t look at all like anything important had happened. I could still feel the after effect of his fingers on my nipple, and where he slapped me felt kind of interesting too, but obviously neither of them knew about that. So I just said, “I need you to teach me how to shave anyway. This hair under my arms is gross.” I raised my arm and exposed the few dozen dark hairs. More

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