“My dad had once told me, crimson-red deep in “the talk,” that with sons, all he had to worry about was one penis, but with a daughter, he had to worry about everyone else’s.”

“Don't worry about me babe. I've seen so many backs walking away from me that this is old hat," he said, shrugging like this wasn't killing him like it was me. "Say it," he said, his voice shaking.”

“The first day of kindergarten when the little boy in a blue polo shirt had sat next to me and told me he’d be my friend when I couldn’t stop crying after my dad had dropped me off. The boy who’d brought me a tray of brownies, a stack of movies, and sat with me on the couch all week after I broke my leg in fifth grade. The boy who’d blushed whenever I talked to him or looked his way when we became teenagers. The same boy who made it his business to make sure all the other boys treated me right.”

“He had a temper, not a good thing. Because I had one too.”

“I didn’t know his name, didn’t know if he had a girlfriend, didn’t know if he wanted one, but I knew I was in trouble.”

“And then I met one whose face I couldn't forget. I fell in love with her and was afraid she was going to leave me the way everyone else had... I still love her.”

“You've had time, Luce. I've given you your space." he said, the bed moaning as he stood. "I've aged fifty years in three weeks' time because I did my part and stayed away from you. But now you're here. And maybe you're not here because of me, but either way, you couldn't stay away.”