“Does she… Does she mess around on you?” He looked at my face and held his hands up. “Look, Gretta. I love you, but you’ve got a lot to lear... about me. Don't worry… Uh, we’ve got plenty of time to get reacquainted, but for the time being…"I was very confused. "But… But Sally's messing around while you're…" Gretta!" He looked almost angry. "First of all, it's Sandy. Second of all, I think you need…" He sighed. "I think I’ll retire to my room, give my girl a call and get some shuteye.” He picked. Daddy with a safety pin in his teeth, changing my diaper. My mother giving me a bath in the sink, Daddy's arm coming in from somewhere to the side of the picture, supporting me while she washed me. Me in a stroller, a goofy hat on my head. Me crawling around, standing in the living room while holding onto the coffee table, my father kneeling behind me, his hands spread, ready to catch me if I fell. About two years' worth. And then they stopped.There was a blank page in the book and then there. More

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