Love VIIa

No longer drawing

back from an in-

commensurable fact:

She, rightly, felt betrayed. She, rightly,

was angry. Very betrayed. Very angry.

Imagine, she was in theory on the verge of

being of child-bearing age. She had no

doubt begun to dream of herself as an

adult woman. Now everything had

taken on new shapes. New shapes

to which she had been looking,

forward. Newly imagined shapes

to which no one could have

been looking forward.

But she was the one

for whom there was no

pattern to follow, no con-

venient conventions to help

her over the usual rough spots.

Nor had her parents been a help.

She had been betrayed by them too.

She had no one who had shown themselves trustworthy. She had been cut adrift in

a body with no maps, no rules, no

training, and a lot of fear a lot of

pain: and no one who could comfort or help .