It was the summer before tenth grade when Purple Rain came out in 1984. I sat in my chair on the left side of the theater watching the screen, pretending not to notice my friend making out with her date in the seats next to me. Today I wonder why had I been invited to tag along and why had I said yes? It is not hard to put myself in my room at my parent's house with the telephone in my hand, dialing the the push buttons and waiting for my old friend to pick up. We hadn't seen as much of each other since my parents had moved us across the intercoastal waterway and North up I-95 to the town of Palm Beach Gardens the year before. I'd probably called her and asked her what she was doing that weekend. Did she want to hang out? Maybe she felt sorry for me. Maybe that's why, when she said she had plans to go to the movies with her boyfriend, she said I could come along. Maybe I said, "Okay," because I wanted any little bit of my friend I could ...