I followed Mom upstairs but went into my room, kicked off my shoes, and dropped off my books. I was about to go back downstairs when I heard Mom call ...ut for help. I wandered down the hall to her room and stuck my head in the door. “What’s up?”Mom was standing in front of her mirrored dresser, in the process of unzipping her dress. It was a pretty cream-colored dress, a few inches shorter than knee-length, with a bustle-like peplum skirt. “My zipper’s stuck.”I came up behind her and pulled her. We both had the right moves, and we both knew, by inflection, what theother person would do at any given time, and that always made ourchances of performing well almost a done deal. After mom got me dressedup, all I could do was just stand there and look in the mirror at whatmom had done to me, knowing that my fate was seemingly sealed, myprospects of getting out of it rapidly slipping away.After my debut.... "She'll need a name," mom calmly said, "we can'tcall her Greg of course, and she'll. More

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