Mom turned away from me and took off her beach robe. There stood my mom in a bikini. I admit I was surprised she wore it. She looked great.“Get me a...drink, James.” She demanded.I thought it was a little early for my mom to start drinking, “It’s not even nine o’clock yet.”“The bars open. Get me a god-damn margarita.” Mom barked angrily at me.When I came back, mom was curled up on the lounge chair, trying to cover herself with her arms and hands as much as she could. I handed her the margarita,. I didn't even know if I knew any. I was so naive. Living in a university community, with degrees and political friends and alternative shops and all, it now seems impossible that I would have missed everything going on around me. There was even a little radical-lesbian-feminist bookstore that I walked past all the time, and I don't think I ever paid it any attention at all.What happened to me was nothing. It was so minor. No one I've told about it believes it could possibly have been the start,. More

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