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"I nodded."We thought you might pretend to be our brother, but you are much too large, too tall." I could be a hired hand, a coachman perhaps, or a bodyguard or some such."She shook her head."A friend of your late husband," I suggested. "Another suitor, quite an ardent one, poor but ardent."She laughed and said, "I like that. You can court both of us. That ought to produce some fights." What is first on the agenda?" I asked."Come," she said, "let us sample your wares, like, who is it, the pieman? We shall test your mettle."She took my hand, led me up the broad stairs and to her high-ceilinged bedroom.We disrobed quickly and quietly, and she took me before a tall looking glass and stood beside me, holding my hand. Despite the fact that I was nearly a foot taller than she was, our hipbones were on nearly the same plane. We both had a reasonably luxuriant mat of hair in our groins, and we both looked strong and healthy. I was glad the old lady had made me wash and shave. I admired my. The grim look he had on his facewhen I sat down at the breakfast table with him showed me howdisappointed he was.The articles posited that I had broken up with Paul, or had somehow hurthis feelings in a way that made me look like the one at fault. Some ofthe more reputable papers included a photo or two of how distraught I hadbeen too, but most of the others only had a brief statement that Iappeared to be upset at the ordeal.Overall Dad said it wasn't too bad. The press respected me, and they weregiving me the benefit of the doubt. They didn't come out and say that Ihad wronged Paul, but many of them had left their stories open tointerpretation in a way that didn't necessarily paint me in the bestlight."How are you doing?" Dad asked me as I poured some cereal. His tone waskinder than I expected, which gave me hope."I didn't want him to know, Daddy," I told him and felt tears bead at thecorners of my eyes again. I sniffed and quickly wiped the tears awaybefore they could turn into.
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