Now if you listen closely I’ll tell you what I know Storm clouds are gathering The wind is gonna blow The race of man is suffering And I can hear the moan, ‘Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. — Maya Angelou, “Alone” 07.26.2007 I wrote my way out of my childhood, discovering who I was in the spaces between words. There were times in my life that defied my ability to write about them, and for those, I found solace in the words of others. 2007 was one of those times. It was the year that my first marriage quietly came to its final, legal end, taking with it the relationship I’d carefully erected my whole life around. It was also the year that I met the man who made that life implode. That man… God, falling in love with that man was the most fun I’ve ever known in my life. It was a beautiful, exquisite torture. And, on July 26, 2007, I was preparing to leave him. At one …

02.16.2007 I had been divorced 27 days when I met him. Decked out in my favorite jeans and a striped black top that afforded a peek-a-boo look at my fuchsia bra beneath, I felt like hot stuff. What can I say? I was 24-years-old, single for the first time in my adult life, and determined to spend the next year — at minimum — kissing random boys just because I could. And, then I walked into my friend’s apartment, and every plan I had went to hell. First, though, let me back up. She’d called me an hour earlier to tell me that her friend Ryan wanted to join us for our night of planned debauchery. (She’d just broken up with some jerk, so clearly.) “Look cute!” she said. She’d been hoping to set me up with this guy, and out of the blue, he’d called her. Fate, her voice seemed to suggest. “I always look cute” was my quippy reply. So armed with my usual cuteness and a complete lack of expectation, I walked …