His drive. Yet she also knew there was an emptiness in their lives. They hadn’t made love in almost three years. She couldn’t. She had very little...feeling or movement from her chest down. The skin grafts and pins in her bones sometimes made even simple things like holding hands painful. Never mind having sex. Brent never complained. He never mentioned it. She knew that sometimes he surfed for porn on the computer when she wasn’t around. When out in public, his eyes wandered. And she couldn’t. * * * * * * * * Now I must relate something about myself. Being fifteen when we moved into the avenue I was on that pivotal point between childhood and maturity, masturbation and my first vaginal penetration, and the constraints of childhood and the alleged freedom of adulthood. One unpleasant aspect to this alleged freedom was the approach of the moment when you have to ‘Decide.’ The frequent changes of location that had been my life up until then had meant frequent changes of school. These. More

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