Home: Part 34

What follows is a work of fiction. Nothing here is either true or relevant. Read at your own risk. Expect nothing, and that's exactly what you'll get. Oh: This could go on for a while.

January 1976

Shannon and I were introduced to each other by Cindy. "You'll like her," my sister said. The two of them had met in church, something I said was not a strong selling point. 

"So, she's a religious fanatic, too?" I asked.

"Stop," Cindy said. We were at a restaurant where Shannon worked as a waitress, sitting across from each other in a small booth. "She's sweet. Shy, like you, too."

"I'm not shy," I said.

"Yes, you are. You can't even talk to yourself without stuttering. And if you don't start dating someone, mom and dad will keep thinking you're some kind of queer."

"That helps."

"There she is." She pointed to a woman walking toward us. Cindy waved and smiled. "Try to be nice."

Shannon smiled at us both. "Hi."

"This is my brother," Cindy said. "The one I told you about. He's missing half a leg, but he's still not bad."

We shook hands. "Nice to finally meet you," Shannon said.