“I don’t know. I’m not doing this on purpose.”The shape of my mark was a rough-edged vertical streak along my sternum. It stretched out, away ...rom me like a ribbon caught on the wind. We watched it as it got longer and longer, making curls, and generally whipping about. At first, it seemed only to grow out away from me, but then it unfurled, spun through the air like the tip was attached to a tiny invisible airplane, and then dove toward her left leg.Emma rolled away but the winding, growing. I rubbed my leg against my father’s maintaining contact to confirm the touch was not incidental or accidental. I flipped my long blonde hair and turned in ways that showed off my cleavage in the deep cut bodice of my dress.And, before dessert arrived, I too had my hand in my father’s lap, as did my mother. We had to feed him his cheesecake, as he had his hands between her legs and my own.We left the restaurant as we had come in, my arm and my mother’s both linked in my father’s. We all sat in. More

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