The girls ordered one last glass of wine, as we finished up.We walked out of the restaurant and toward my car, when I had the realization I had no clue where Tiffany lived at. I could have to drive back across the river, then back, something I did not want to do. I decided I had better ask.“Tiffany, where do you live honey?” I asked.“Not far from Jen’s.” she replied.We pulled out of the parking lot and Tiffany gave me directions to her place. I knew exactly where it was, Susan and I had rented a condo in that area when we were first married, though I hadn’t thought of it in years. I turned into the entrance to the buildings and noticed a lot of people out in the court yards and a few utility trucks as well. I pulled up to Tiffany’s building and parked. I walked around, opened the door and let her out. About that time, a young woman, who I found out was her neighbour approached her and told her a gas line had broke in the area, the building had no gas service. That meant no one had. I opened the underweardrawer of my dresser and pulled out one of the disposable Goodnites Momhad bought me. Why couldn't I just be normal, and stop wetting the bedlike some little kid?GREENEveryone could see them. There was nothing I could do about it. Thick,bulky diapers under my plaid skirt. After my accident in class, the schoolsaid that for sanitary reasons, I had to wear a diaper. Trauma-inducedstress incontinence, they called it. Even if nobody said anything, I knewthey were staring. Looking at the way the padding between my legs forcedme to waddle. How it crinkled with each step. Why wouldn't they stare? Iwas a freak. Some asshole had glued a pacifier to my locker. Ha ha. What ajoke, Tammy, the full-sized infant. Tammy, who couldn't help wettingherself or her bed. Who would want to be friends with, let alone date,such a backwards freak? I climbed the stairs to the third floor, then pastit to the door marked "roof access". The smokers and stoners always keptthe door propped.
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