After a bit of that I got out stark naked of course and grabbed my jeans and tshirt and headed to the house to get a towel I had forgotten to take and...dry off. Right on my heels was one of our dogs, Jasper we called him who was no more than a who knows what mutt kind of dog. Dad didn't like him much nor did my brother, but Mom insisted we keep him! I swear I had really wondered what Mom and him were so close about? She and he sometimes just seemed to dissapear, and sometime later appear back at. I raised my glass: ‘To Shelia Quinn. Oh, sorry – Quinn Covey. Now fuck off and leave me alone.’ Wow. Where had that come from? The bitterness in my own words and tone caught me off-guard. It was me who’d been most deeply in the wrong, back then, and she who had the right to be the angry one now. Yet I was kidding myself, of course, once again. I knew exactly why I’d felt that surge of anger. I’d written a book about it, after all, and paid my therapist several thousands to scrape the bottom of. More

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