“Irene! We were engaged!” said my mother.

“You don’t have to justify anything to her, Millie. She’s just trying to turn the tables.” He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. I had seen this gesture often enough to know he was shifting to his imperious pose. “You know, young lady, you think just because this college hands you some honors you’ve got the world by the tail. You’ve got all the answers—past, present and future. Your parents don’t know anything and you’ve got nothing left to learn. You’re so clever that everything will go your way, doors will fly open at the mention of your name. Let me tell you something, Miss Honor Student: the world is not holding its breath for you. You may be big stuff on campus, but a university is not reality. Nowhere near it. But you won’t find that out until someone knocks you on your smug little butt.”

“And you’d like a ringside seat for that event, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would.” Pause. “And I’ll probably end up hating whoever does it.”

His frown, as always, was irresistible. I went over and tousled his hair. “You won’t have to hate anyone. I’ve got a pretty good punch of my own.”

“That’s your trouble,” he said, slipping his arm around my waist. “You’ve always been more independent than the boys. Maybe because you’re the oldest. Sometimes you make me feel I have three sons.”

“I’m glad Frank doesn’t see me that way.”

“And how do you see him?”

“I love him.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be.”

“And he feels the same?”

I nodded and felt my face shining. “You can’t possibly know him from just one visit. If only you could see him—even the way he reads a newspaper.”

He smirked. “He reads it upside down?

“He feels what he reads. The expressions on his face—it’s more than just gathering information. He gets involved with what’s going on in the world, and that’s good for me, it really is.” I went on like a mute who has just found a voice. I told them about Frank’s shyness, his insecurities, how I had had to go after him. I told them about the incident with Larry, about Frank’s childhood of poverty, even about Wanda Hoople.

“So that explains why he hasn’t had a haircut since he was ten.”

“Oh, Dad, that doesn’t matter. It bothered me at first too. But there are other things.”

“There must be. He’s a rather . . . unlikely-looking man. And a little undernourished. You might lose him to the first strong wind that comes along.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if that happened. I wouldn’t ever want another man to touch me.”

This embarrassed them both. They didn’t completely look away, but their eyes shifted just slightly to avoid mine. My father rescued himself by joking. “Your mother was crazy about me that way. She was so anxious and nervous the first time I kissed her that the second we touched lips, she farted.”