I knew I wasn't supposed to laugh, because it wasn't at all a funny story, but Beverly said she had hit her father with the toilet tank cover and I imagined it, pictured it in my mind, Beverly hitting a grown man, and it was funny. A little bit. It was funny in a satisfying way, because she said he used to touch her and I knew she didn't mean in a good way. I was only just now beginning to understand things like that, but I did understand, at least enough to know it was better for her not to be anywhere near her father.

"The toilet tank cover is heavy," I said approvingly. "I hope it hurt him permanently."

I didn't know what happened to my father. I supposed he was dead, given the time difference between then and now. But I didn't know if he lived out the rest of his life happily -- as happily as a man like him could -- or if he missed us enough that it hurt him. Maybe he had even been taken to jail for killing my mother.