Sunday I was going to meet my first parents for the first time.I realized I couldn't remember what they were really like, my memories of them colored ...y my teenage perceptions at the time. Dad seemed always to be withdrawn, more often than not retreating to his shed after supper with a half dozen beers. I remembered Mom's perpetually worried look when she wasn't nagging me or Dad, and being glad to put the place behind me when I was old enough to move out. I hadn't seen them in the last ten. “Me? You’re the one who broke us up, doing it with Ralph.”“That’s different!”“Why?”“At least I knew him. And I didn’t do it behind your back, either. You were part of it.”“I was not!”“Yes you were. You watched; that’s kinky sex. You didn’t do anything to stop us, you watched, and you liked it.”“You were with other men too.” I accused her, “He wasn’t the first.”“No I wasn’t!” she squeaked, clearly caught off guard.I just looked at her. I knew from her tone she was lying, and she knew I knew.“I. More

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