‘I just wanted you to know I’m okay.’ ‘John!’ my father said in relief. Of course, the conversation didn’t go as well after that. I let hi... rant for a bit. ‘Dad, like I said in my note, I just need some time,’ I said after he ran down. ‘I’ll be home once I get my head back together.’ ‘Do you need anything?’ he asked, obviously at a loss as to what else to say. ‘Just your patience and trust,’ I said. ‘Is mom there?’ That conversation was far more difficult than the one with dad. Mom cried. I. The ice was broken that easily. He moved himself to the stool next to mine. He was white and stood about five feet nine inches tall. He had dark brown hair and was skinny. His navy blue Penn State shirt hung loosely on him. He couldn’t have been more than one hundred sixty-five pounds. He smelled good, like fresh soap and expensive shampoo. We shared a few drinks and some shots. He was friendly and good with conversation. His hand found a resting place on my thigh two or three times. More

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