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This was after the night at his house, though how much later I cannot say.

"That's your mom talking."I told him that this wasn't true: it was my choice.

With real life, however, and memory especially, it is harder to keep things so neat and organized.

Many memories remain fuzzy, but incidents such as that day in the forest remain in crisp detail.

It was late and my parents were asleep as we drove over to the house where T.

The second incident I remember happened when he was giving me a ride home.

I'd been quiet for so long, worried about hurting his feelings and the ripple effects of whatever actions I took.

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