She confessed once she thought to name me Scarlett, but my father put an end to that. I first read Gone with the Wind when I was 12, curled up in the big brown plaid chair on the screened-in porch of the house I grew up in. I walked slowly and deliberately, despite the fact that Atlanta was burning. My brothers ducked their heads and didn't stop eating their corn on the cob until they reached their elbows. If I shed any tears, they fell onto the platter and nobody noticed.
Salt is salt.
As it turned out, my father was right. Last summer, it was earrings. We all went out to the mall and pierced, collectively, seven more holes. I got a diamond stud made of glass. I asked the salesgirl, not woman, although in years she might have qualified, if she thought I was too old.