14
MAY 27, 1989—POMPEY, NEW YORK (1 MONTH LATER)It’s a bright clear day with just a whiff of cloud in the sky when I walk out onto the patio behind the mansion. My father-in-law, Joe, has opened up the house for my graduation party and the grounds are hopping with guests, many of them I barely know. I can hardly take three steps before I’m greeted with a congratulations or a pat on the back from someone. Mingling with the noisy crowd, I look for Monie, wanting her by my side, but she’s nowhere in sight.
In this life, I’m not a fan of crowds, even if they’re here to celebrate my accomplishment. I feel hemmed in and trapped. I’m not sure why that is. In my other life, I never felt the need to escape the throng and hide on the fringes. But here I am, and there’s no getting away from them to
