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There Were People Thrice Her Size On The Trenton Platform And She Looked Admiringly At One Of Them, A Woman In A Very Short Skirt. She Thought Nothing Of Slender Legs Shown Off In Miniskirts--it Was Safe And Easy, After All, To Display Legs Of Which The World Approved--but The Fat Woman's Act Was About The Quiet Conviction That One Shared Only With Oneself, A Sense Of Rightness That Others Failed To See.

She Wanted To Ask Him Why They Were All Strangers Who Shared The Same Last Name.

She Rested Her Head Against His And Felt, For The First Time, What She Would Often Feel With Him: A Self-affection. He Made Her Like Herself. With Him, She Was At Ease; Her Skin Felt As Though It Was Her Right Size.. It Seemed So Natural, To Talk To Him About Odd Things. She Had Never Done That Before. The Trust, So Sudden And Yet So Complete, And The Intimacy, Frightened Her.. But Now She Could Think Only Of All The Things She Yet Wanted To Tell Him, Wanted To Do With Him.

Then She Wished, More Rationally, That She Could Love Him Without Needing Him. Need Gave Him Power Without His Trying; Need Was The Choicelessness She Often Felt Around Him.

I Have My Father's Lopsided Mouth. When I Smile, My Lips Slope To One Side. My Doctor Sister Calls It My Cerebral Palsy Mouth. I Am Very Much A Daddy's Girl, And Even Though I Would Rather My Smile Wasn't Crooked, There Is Something Moving For Me About Having A Mouth Exactly Like My Father's.