Everything is connected to something else, and my life now feels like the end of stories told by other people. Even I don’t know what I just said, so I better start over.
My father was much older than my mother, She was 21 and fresh out of college when she married the 35-year-old professor she’s secretly dated the entire senior year. I was born 7 months later, which perhaps explains why they were in such a hurry. I eventually had a sister.
When I was 14 I came home from school earlier than scheduled because a twisted ankle meant no tennis practice. One of the coaches gave me a ride in his car, so I arrived an hour and a half before I was expected. I thought the house was empty – Mom and Dad ought to have both been at their jobs. I was just as surprised as my father and his girlfriend when I walked in on them having sex. Dad and the young lady – a student, no less – didn’t hear me come in. I got quite an eyeful as my 50-year-old father and his 19-year-old student shouted at me and tried to find their underwear. I told Mom and they were divorced before my 15th birthday.