As we laugh over the ending of the story itself, I ask if you would then have considered yourself a tom-boy, growing up, or a favorite of your father�...�s by reason of your activity levels. You punch me light on the shoulder, and question my rudeness in asking a lady in a dress such a question. But your smile is all I need to understand, and I suggest, based on your hair color, a couple of nicknames you might have been called by the boys you were besting in those days. You admit that you were. Wherever her head may have been, I knew her heart, at least, was in the right place. In the end I thanked her, just as Peter had instructed.And of course she asked about Peter. When I said I was tired, that we could talk about it in the morning, she got out her phone and started dialing his number. For better or worse, Marie didn’t make a lot of compromises. I caved, telling her the harrowing, humiliating tale of how he’d rescued me from his spiky obelisk, how he’d been dear, and fun, and had. More

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