My life story. Where to begin? I could tell him about my parents’ separation and the way it impacted me. How I would introduce myself in first grade with, “My name is Rebecca. My parents are divorced.” I have no idea why this seemed like a good idea to me at the time; clearly, my social skills were stunted. I could tell him about the Pistol Lady. How I once indirectly broke her foot and how she had a penchant for animal abuse. I could tell him about my father. How I had always worshipped him and now was finding it difficult to reconcile his heroism with his deep flaws.
Instead, I told him about me. “I’m a writer,” I said. “And a reader. My Chinese name translates literally as Book Love and I have more than lived…
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