“I threw my hands up. Men. They were impossible to reason with.”
“The men my family threw me at were strong and powerful. I could kill this boy with a teaspoon, and for some reason that made me feel comfortable.”
“I threw my hand over my mouth and blurted out the first best excuse I could come up with, “Morning breath!”
“You called her a cunt,” I reminded him. “He threw out a hand, his brows shooting up. “Were you not just here? She is a cunt.”This was not debatable. I didn’t even know why I brought it up.”
“I threw up after my first skirmish, too.”
“I remember wondering, within a year or two of taking my first my first steps, why only men sat to drink tea and converse, and why women were always busy. I reasoned that men were weak and needed rest.”