For an eternity, I drifted in a silent, lightless void. The only sound was silence.With only my memories for company, I began to reconstruct my life – both lives.As Carl, my earliest memories surrounded me as little more than impressions, so I embraced the impressions and concentrated on them, seeking truth. There were flashes of still pictures that slipped away almost instantly.My mother.Leaning over to lift me up, so she could tend to a skinned knee. Her face a study in concentration, as she wiped away the blood and my tears.My mother ... again.I was older, but still of indeterminate age. Her face flashed into my mind. She was dressed for an outing, waiting at the front door for my father to pick her up and take her out. There was a tendril of memory, floating at the back of my mind, of a babysitter and my unhappiness at having this particular sitter stay with me.The still picture of my mother was engraved into my memory, because, instead of my father come to pick her up, there were. Mostly because Mother had always kept me so busy pampering her.And none of the girls I dated had ever called to ask ME out. That awoman of Ginny's worldly stature had called to ask me to dinner left megiddy with excitement yet feeling a bit inferior all at once.I was definitely glad she had waited two days to call. It had takenthat long for the last remnants of her lipstick and mascara to wearoff. I don't keep make-up remover in my medicine cabinet -- Why wouldI? -- and was too embarrassed to buy any at the drugstore. I got a lotof strange looks at the grocers, the dry cleaners, and just about everyother place I went during those two days. I felt especially self-conscious at the curious way the saleswoman at Saks looked at me when Istopped in to pick up a few things."Sure, Ginny," I pleasantly agreed. "I'd love to come. Can I bringanything? What should I wear?" I asked automatically.At least I had learned the all-important social niceties from Mother."It's only a casual.
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