It's a cold snowy blustery Saturday in February.
Mom and Dad have travelled up from Philly to visit me. If Mom doesn't see me at least once a month the umbilical cord begins to throb violently. Mom who calls the dorm room at 8am from Philly to tell me it's raining there and so it must be raining 90 miles away.
We're walking south on Broadway into the wind and the snow. I don't remember where we possibly could have been going. Perhaps to Danal's for brunch? Perhaps to Pottery Barn to shop.
Dad has wandered ahead of us as usual and Mom has her arm through mine, we're chatting about school and I'm probably wearing a scarf and figuring out how to hide a hickey from a late night game of truth or dare.
A youngish man is walking towards us. He looks exactly like Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers. I can feel his stare from over three feet away and we make eye contact briefly but then I, shyly, look away. As he passes us, on Mom's side, he grunts and says, "It's too bad you're with your parents."
There's a pause as he continues on and I hold my breath and will myself not to look back at him.
My mom stops for a second and takes her arm out of mine. She opens her mouth, "What did he -- Oh."
She shrugs, puts her arm back through mine and we continue walking south into the wind, cold and snow.
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