I was told I could come by and get my “stuff” which amounted to a weight bench and some weights and I don’t remember what else.
I tried to get a friend to go with me, but either he was busy or wise enough to know the climate over there was dangerous, or potentially so. He was almost right.
I pulled my Plymouth Horizon into the driveway and walked down the grass to the house.
I gathered my things from the porch and took them to the car. I looked back, hoping she’d come outside. Her father stood in the doorway, guarding the exit.
And then, I did the wrong thing. I walked back down the yard.
He scowled at me and slammed the door.
I lost it. I yelled, I screamed. I stood on their front porch and hollered they had no right to break us up.
The house was still. I opened my mouth, but with a suddenness that silenced me, he came out the door and lunged toward me. Her little brother, right on Dad’s heels, took a swing.
In a heartbeat I remembered he told me that he once shot someone who was drinking beer on his land…I remember that he got away with it…and as I remembered it, I ran.
I don’t remember much after that.
