At 14 (a birthday which had been forgotten), I was nevertheless rather shy and not sure of myself. Too skinny and complexed about my body and yet smal... breasts, I had messed around a little with friends from school, but tended to prefer my bedroom and my hands to whatever it was they could do to me. I had been invited to go to a recording in order to help a band finish their CD, a real honour for me. I wasn’t a great musician or anything, it just happened that I was able both to play the violin. Carl picked me up at home and actually brought flowers. My dad, not drunk yet, just grunted a greeting. Mom was thrilled, a guy coming to the house with flowers and willing to come inside to meet the parents, fantastic. As far as she was concerned, he was a keeper. He escorted me to his car, a Taurus, but it was his, not his parents. Then, for the first time since I was child, he opened the door for me. Maybe my outfit had something to do with that. I was wearing the shortest skirt my dad. More

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