Count My Lies

by Sophie Stava

Violet is only thirty-one; two years younger than I am. Plenty of time for my dad to meet someone and have a baby. I’ve never really pressed my mom about him. I only know what she’s told me about the night they met: that he was from Philly, that his first name was Joe. Even if the internet had been around when I was a kid, it wasn’t much to go on.

Weird timeline issue! I thought maybe the author was older but she’s not. A 33 yr old would have had the internet!

It’s a silly infatuation, like my high school obsession with Robert Pattinson, lusty, fevered, and forever confined to the darkened recesses of my bedroom, where I spent night after night fantasizing about him sinking his vampire fangs into my tender teenage flesh.

So she was definitely a kid when the internet was around then.

Ten years that we’d chased each other around the island, fished in his boat, snuck out to swim in the dark, that we’d jumped on my bed singing Prince songs at the top of our lungs, I would / die for / you / yeah / darlin’ if you want me to! He knew me better than I knew myself.

Prince songs seem like an odd choice for a kid growing up almost 20 yrs after they came out.