She had told me that ‘Rachel bear’ was her Dad’s pet name for her. Dad had abandoned them when she was 14. She had been an awkward chubby teen, ... knew, a class mate of my younger brother. Rachel had outgrown the ugly duckling phase. Her silence, her brooding character, spoke of depths of need. Need of male attention. She had never developed the confidence to expect men to desire her the way that we did. At least I did. Her essential vulnerability wrapped in the tough shell was irresistible.. " What, it's all my fault? Maybe if you cut your hair like all the otherboys no one would mistake you as a girl. And why didn't you just tellthem you're a boy anyway?" I watch as mommy dries her hands off fromcleaning the dishes. "Or did you like wearing little Sally's clothes andyou wanted a girl's uniform of your own for school?"I knew it, she's blaming me for everything. "No I didn't like wearingher clothes, and no I didn't want a girl's uniform, they just gave meone and I put it on. Not. More

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