“I was a virgin when you gave me meth, you know. Couldn’t exactly compare the two.” His face contorts, and he shakes his head a thousand times. “I never gave you meth.” I don’t want to do this with him. I’m looking at the exit. “Paul,” he forces. “I never gave you meth. What the fuck are you talking about?” His South Philly lilt is as thick as mine. He sounds like my dad. “It was Mom, alright. You know it was her.”
