The feeling was reciprocal. They found some of my qualities endearing. I often ate soup to save money, but I would splurge on flowers. Elle asked me about it once, and I simply said, “Life is too short to not be surrounded by beauty.” Instead of laughing at me, they began to quote me, which was astonishing. Another time I bought flowers for my bedroom and the living room.

“What, Reggie?” I had said. “Regardless of the question, flowers are always the answer.” They delighted in my sayings and sensibilities.

For the first time in my life, I had women for friends. I talked about my life. To those girls in high school, my world looked foreign and odd, but for Reggie and Elle, my stories of being raised by men sounded exotic, like a delicacy in a posh restaurant.

Chapter Five

Over time, I became braver. Reggie and Elle wanted to hear my stories. I told them about buying my first bra and how Daddy took me to the mall. He stood outside with his newspaper and waited until a woman came to fetch me. It was as if I were party to an illegal transaction. The woman was old. She looked like Aunt Bee from the reruns of The Andy Griffith Show that Henry and Griffin watched. I know because that’s all we watched other than reruns of I Love Lucy. Even though I was born in 1988, you would never know color TV had arrived. Aunt Bee ushered me through the cosmetic department where big-toothed, smiling women sprayed me with horrifying smells. As we entered the lingerie department, Aunt Bee started touching my breasts like she was choosing tomatoes for tonight’s salad. She selected two bras. What an ordeal. Who in their right mind would want to go to a place and be assaulted by such wretched smells, harassed by overly made-up women, and have their personal space invaded?

My brother took charge next. He took me to Victoria’s Secret. A lady, maybe in her thirties, approached me. “What size are you looking for?” she asked.

“I have no idea. This is my first bra,” I said, burying the incident with Aunt Bee.

“What made you come here?”

“My brother brought me.” I pointed over to Henry, who was fingering neon lime thongs on the periphery of the store. The saleswoman looked overly concerned as she eyed me and then surveyed my brother. Stubble covered his face, and his dark hair was disheveled. We looked so different. My blonde hair pulled neatly back in a ponytail. My green eyes bright and alert. Henry’s green eyes bloodshot.

“Honey, are you sure he’s your brother? You can tell me. Do you need me to call someone? Like a nice policeman?”

I realized she had some sinister concoction rolling around in her head. This mall scene was definitely not for me.

“No, I just need a bra. My brother brought me because my daddy works all the time, and … ” I motioned her closer to me, “You see, my mother is up in heaven.” You could get a lot accomplished if you were a thirteen-year-old girl and uttered the phrase, “My mother is up in heaven.”