Even as a little girl, I was a budding pessimist. Everything was half empty - not just glasses, but people, too. I remember loving Peter Pan as a little girl. Not the Disney version, but the play with Mary Martin as Pan. Every time Tink drank the poison, I felt my heart clench, first because I wanted to find someone who'd die to save me, and second because I knew she'd die. I never clapped for Tink because I didn't believe that the little flashing light from the audience had a soul, that the little bells had a heart. Whoever I watched the movie with clapped though, and I'd pretend, never touching my hands together. I thought that if I lied, she'd die right away and Peter would never sing about Neverland for me again.
That's how we met. I'd bought a ticket to the college production of Peter Pan. You played Pan. You had that curly brown hair that looked like fistfuls of chocolate