“Any mature, boundaried adult would have seen a fully clothed girl with two naked men and said, ‘One, why is she here? And two, why are you not wearing clothes?’” I was in my fifth decade of life when my friend said this to me. Her construction alone was boggling: the accused you would have been them. And I got to be simply she. It had never once occurred to me that Mr. Belden, storming in and flipping on those dentist-office lights, might not have blamed me. Why?
