My hometown still had crank phones in 1954, but it was nothing for our phone to ring at odd hours. Father was, after all, the County Prosecutor, the S...eriff often called him in the middle of the night.This call, however, was for Wendy. Daddy slipped up the stairs, found Wendy and me in a puppy pile, and woke us both."It's Mr. Medawar. Wendy, he'd like to speak to you," relayed Dad. "Wendy, the phone is in the living room. It's long distance. Please hurry."Wendy yawned, stretched ... her flannel. Of course. . . . I look to her door to see that the passenger side is still locked. Did I really expect anything else?Wait a minute. She’s my delusion. I should be able to think her away. I concentrate hard on picturing the passenger seat empty.“That won’t work,” her soft voice states.The engine in the rear cranks to life, and I put my Orange Bubble, as I call her, into gear, and start my drive home.“You can ignore me all you want, but I’m really here.” I find myself growing hard in my pants,. More

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