Twenty minutes later, I still couldn’t figure it out. But she’d always been a mystery to me. She was but the last in a string of enigmas shaped in the female form.

First, of course, had been Mother with her contrary statements: “Smarten up” and “Don’t be a wise acre.” I hadn’t been trying to be an acre at all, but when I pointed that out, she smacked me.

My older sister was a nonstop whirlwind of inquiry. She had her own drawer under the sink, with a lock and everything. She and Mother insisted that there were things a not meant for boys. Years later, I would be grateful for such secrecy.

Girls outside of my family were a greater mystery. I couldn’t stay away and I couldn’t get close. Their bodies were alluring and yet I felt the need to search, conquer, and destroy each one. They said things that seemed so important, but for my life I couldn’t explain why except to keep them from crying. Tears were another mysterious asset they all had at their ready.