It's drugs, isn't it"? Tara was so innocent. She got pulled into that glamorous lifestyle with all her rich friends...all that cocaine dust floating around, she probably inhaled some by accident, and then -' 'There's no such thing as secondhand cocaine snorting, Mom.

Ah, there’s the governess voice. All stern and disapproving. It makes me feel like a naughty schoolboy.

Some are nice and some aren't. Some are smart, and others are about as bright as a wet match in a dark cave. In other words, pretty normal.

I can't get it out," she said. "Just pull at it." "It hurts. It's throbbing." "Pull harder." "I can't! It's truly stuck. I need something to make it slippery. Do you have some sort of lubricant nearby?" "No." "Not anything?" "Much as it may surprise you, we've never needed lubricant in the library before now.

I have always been an obsessive reader - I remember going back and forth to the local library with stacks of books taller than I was.

If your concern is that I may be overcome with manly ardor and ravish you in a moment of weakness… I may. If you ask nicely.

As we talked, I had the sense of uncovering something precious and long-buried, fully formed. Our conversation was a process of removing layers, some of them easily dusted away. Other layers, requiring chisels or axes, were left alone for now. We revealed as much as we dared about what had happened during the years that separated us. But it wasn't what I had expected, being with Hardy again. There was something in me that remained stubbornly locked away, as if I were afraid to let out the emotion I had harbored for so long.