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A Taste of the Forbidden

I was on vacation with my family and had just turned 15 when I met Joseph. He was 37 and married to my father's cousin. We walked down the streets of Manhattan headed towards the Planetarium and somehow got on the subject of X-Men. Growing up with three brothers had instilled in me a love of comic books and even though I was shy, just finishing my super awkward puberty phase, he managed to get me so involved in conversation that neither of us noticed when the trail of family behind us, my mother, father, brothers, his wife, my aunt and uncle, all disappeared to look for my grandparents who had managed to get lost.

We didn't have cell phones yet, so the two of us sat on a bench outside the Planetarium waiting for the rest of our entourage to show up. Joe talked with me as an adult, something that was overwhelmingly important to me as 15 year old—trying my best to be mature. By the time we were done with our outing (our family successfully reunited) I was smitten. I knew it was only a crush—but his blue eyes didn't leave my mind.

I didn't see him again until I was 17. He and his wife came to visit during my senior year of high school and it took only a few minutes for him and I to begin talking again. We chatted about theater, specifically stage combat. Joe placed his hands on my waist as he showed me how to fall, held my wrist as we fist fought—guiding my blow. His touch sent tingles through my body and I ached to get him alone. In ...

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