Fowziyah’s face darkened as she told me about how other girls teased her for her skin color and treated her badly while older men shot her lustful l...oks wherever she went, frightening the young doe she’d been in those days. As Fowziyah shared that with me, I nodded and found myself empathizing with her immensely. To the point that my hands went to hers and clasped them, before I realized what I was doing. Fowziyah looked at my hands on hers, and froze. I held my breath. Muslim women aren’t big. I know I first mentioned it to my second husband and he wasn’t interested. The lover I had when I was 37 liked the idea, but we were in a small Midwest city a long way from my native California and its many beautiful beaches. Since moving back to good old CA, I’ve never been able to make it happen, either….until today. At age 52, I finally lost my beach virginity! It all started last night, when my husband told me he plans to spend all day today at his brother's place. He never asks me to go. She didn't hold out her hand. I shook it anyway. “Like Amelia Bedelia?” “What?” “Didn’t you read when you were a child?” “Um…yeah, but…” “You sure? You’re not illiterate? Well, I can tell you’re not illiterate, but—aha.” I nodded. “I bet you stayed back in kindergarten.” “What?” “Listen, I saw you almost fall on your ass back there. There’s only two possibilities. You’re high out off your gourd, or you need to pay a visit to the dum-dum store.” I tapped her on the forehead. “Pick one.” She just. Cathay was clearly not a before noon riser. Her blond hair was plastered to her head, but scrambled all over the place, leaving her looking like she’d just finished walking through a car wash.My answering smile failed to disarm her sense of disorientation. That kind of hurt. I think I have a pretty nice smile. Cathay was no longer buzzed from whatever she had Margaret serve her over lunch and throughout the afternoon. Drinking strong liquor never was my thing, in any of my lives, so she was on.