Four hundred and eighty-six dollars, plus tax, plus the two meals a day I bought because the room had a microwave and nothing else.

I had a flat.

I want to be clear about that, because people hear motel and imagine I was homeless and I was not.

I had a one-bedroom on Delaney Street with a lease and a bed in it.

I went to a motel because I was frightened of my father.

Not of violence.

He has never in his life raised a hand to me.

I was frightened that he would come to the flat, because he knew where it was, because he had put a letter under the door of it, and because I had just said no to him for the first time in thirty-four years and I did not know what that meant yet.