“I felt angry,frustrated.I felt I didn't belong, not in mychurch, not in my home, notin my skin.Amidst the chaos, i feltalone,in need of a friend instead ofa sister, someone detached frommy world.The "woman's role" theorydisgusted me.I would soon be a woman, and Iknew I could never perform asexpected.I was tired of my mom's submissionto her religion, to her husband'ssick quest for an heir,to his abuse.I was sick of my dad, ofreaching forhim as he fell farther awayfrom us and into the arms ofJohnnie WB.”

“Dad staggered in, eyes eerily lit.The corners of his mouth foaming spit.His demons planned an overnight stay.Mom motioned to take the girls away.hide them in their rooms, safe in their beds.We closed the doors, covered our heads,as if the blankets could mute the sounds of his blowsor we could silence her screams behind out pillows.I hugged the littlest ones close to my chest,till the beat of my heart lulled them to rest.Only then did I let myself cry.Only then did I let myself wonder whyMom didn't fight back, didn't defend,didn't confess to family or friend.Had Dad's demons claimed her soul?Or was this, as well, a woman's role?”

“One Time, One Daybetween Davie and Roberta ,I asked my mom why she persisted,kept on having baby after baby, She lookedat me, at a spot between my eyes,blinking like I had suddenly fallencrazy. She paused before answering as ifto confide would legitimize my fears.She drew a deep breath, leaned againstthe chair. I touched her hand and I thought she mightcry. Instead she put baby Davie in my armsPattyn, she said, it's a woman's role.I decided if it was my role, I'd rather disappear.”

“I take four or five heavy steps beyond the front door and Mom comes rushing down the hallway. "Shane! What in the hell-" Now she sees me, in all my dignified glory. I tell her I'm fine. Swear I stuck up for my sister, not an alien but an angel. By the time I get to, "I think I might need stitches," Mom is my mommy. She may have forgotten my birthday. But today she remembers me.”

“I love the way she feels inthe curve of my arm. I loveher unpretentious beauty,her intelligence, her nerve.But could I ever love her?The concept of falling in loveis completely foreign, somethingI can’t bring myself to accept. Her hair pillows my cheek and her hand on my leg is warm. I care about you, Conner, and I hate to see you hurting. I want to respond but can’tfind the pretty words I need.”

“Heart Breaking,I think that if Dad, staring down the sight of a 10mm,would only tell me he loves me,I could easily change my mind......but he won't.”

“I hope I'm never a mom. But if I am, I'll make damn sure my kids look up to me.”