The Room My Father Built
A code word I would text to a number if I needed a car outside in four minutes, which was Larchmere, and which I sent twice in nineteen days, both times unnecessarily, and both times a car came.
He told me not to eat or drink anything in that house that I had not personally prepared, opened or poured, and not to make a thing of it.
He told me to change nothing.
Not a lock, not a routine, not my tone of voice.
And he told me that under no circumstances was I to gather evidence.
“You are going to want to,” he said.
“Everybody wants to.