My sister and I were reminiscing about the shithole days when Dad picked up a knife and threatened to stab all of us at the dinner table, and, when playing a board game, he picked up a gun, and pushed it against our heads.
Years ago, before guns were everywhere, I remember walking over to a neighbor’s trailer and having sex. I don’t remember much about the sex, but I do remember my head resting on the lumpy pillow. I reached under it and felt something hard. I wondered how we could live in this safe trailer park surrounded by trees in a mountain town, and he felt a need for this, but I never locked my door? I walked home filled with an unfamiliar shame.