I was a not just the child of another man, but the boy in adress. But when I wore that dress and acted like a girl, even using someof the mannerisms ...hat I remembered from my mother, he looked at me in avery different way. He saw a woman - a younger version of the wife hehad lost, and still cared deeply for, no matter what she had done. Helooked at me with desire, if not love.When those are the options, there is powerful motivation to correct yourconduct. Every morning I would wear my. ‘You goddamn son of a bitch,’ she said. ‘Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want to know why you were taking my class? Didn’t we have that conversation when you showed up at my door begging to be let in?’ ‘Well, yeah,’ I admitted. She glared at me. ‘I mean, yes, ma’am.’ ‘And then you turn in this,’ she threw the paper toward me. It fluttered to the ground well short of my desk, and I wasn’t about to stand up and get it. That would just bring me closer to Mrs. Palmer. ‘I’m sorry if the paper wasn’t what. More

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