Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. There wasn’t, I know, between myself and my father. They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. Not I. "Where are you?" "Here," replied Mrs.
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