By David Remnick (editor)
Read Online or Download The New Yorker, Volume LXXXVII, No. 4 (March 14, 2011) PDF
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Extra resources for The New Yorker, Volume LXXXVII, No. 4 (March 14, 2011)
You were never home. You had no idea what your wife was doing while you were gone. Did you work so hard to get away from her? If you didn't want to be with her, how did you justify leaving six defenseless kids with her? " That's what I wanted to say. Donna's Story I must have been three or four when my dad started fondling me. I remember the before and after but I don't remember the middle. I remember he was taking me to the river in his truck. He was going to show me the boats on the river. Then I remember being home and that he was changing my underpants.
Was that the opportune time to tell you? " I was so defeated by that question, I couldn't tell them what it was like for me. Why didn't they know what it was like for me in that house? I was overwhelmed all the time when I was a kid with all I had to do. I was taking care of the little kids and trying to make sense out of a senseless household. The house was always so filthy. I was ten Page 14 years old and trying to keep up with it somehowtrying to clean the house, trying to keep the grass mowed, trying to take care of my sisters.
Why I could walk out of his apartment and not his car, I don't know. Perhaps I was more frightened in his apartment, perhaps I felt that since we were on the way to my hotel, it was almost over and I could take it. At any rate, I put up with his pressing until he'd gotten what he wanted. I considered it not so bad Page 13 because it wasn't skin to skin and he was able to climax without penetrating me or requiring me to touch him. I thought about something else until he was done. The part I hated was the look I got from the hotel concierge as I came through the doors at 3:30 in the morning.
The New Yorker, Volume LXXXVII, No. 4 (March 14, 2011) by David Remnick (editor)