"Stop! he repeats.I relent. He takes me by the shoulders and walks me backwards as he re-enters the room. He closes the door behind him. He turns back...to me andtugs on my hem to smooth out my skirt."Why are you freaking out?" he asks calmly."Diapers!" I yell at him."I am curious," he says as he puts his hands on my hips."Remember when I said I was locked in the nightie? Well I was locked intothe diapers too. And I couldn't get them off." My mouth circumvents mybrain and spews information.He. It has been there since childhood, and is not the result of a single incident, but rather of multiple encounters with the driveway, the tree limb, the hockey stick, and any other hard object in the vicinity. When she has had quite enough guff, thank you very much, she leads with that chin, and the scar becomes visible. I believe this to constitute truth in advertising, a visual warning, similar to a tiger’s growl, signifying that your continued existence is only on her sufferance. I love this. More

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