Fran broke my heart just by showing up. You see, I was hopelessly, tragically in love with Robbie. I spent my days dreaming of impressing him. I had hero fantasies involving me pulling people from burning car wrecks and saving lives by deftly administering first aid on the scene while Robbie watched from the sidelines, impressed by my 14 year old medical prowess. In my mind I was the girl in the field in that Andrew Wyeth painting, crawling towards Robbie instead of a farmhouse, felled not by polio but by the devastating effects of true love. My situation was perilous. So ...
