Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,
ché la diritta via era smarrita.
—Dante Alighieri
We found ourselves without our grandfather. We found ourselves faced
with stacks of naked women and reels of naked women. We found ourselves
walking the long way around the pale-carpeted dining room
which housed the never-to-be-used wedding china facing
that seamless wallpapered accent wall of the luxurious plantation
nestled beyond the luminous pond. We were told not to walk through the room
because we were going to wear a path. What do I want to say? That my cousin took
my hand and made me walk through when the doorbell rang with another offering
of food from the cousins down the street who are not really cousins. Do I want
to swear I could feel some moths fly up under my collarbones and beat about a bit
to get out? Or that someone was spinning cotton candy around my chest?
He brought wealth into our lives. He made sure we didn’t want. He wanted us
to keep things nice. He wanted nice things for himself, and didn’t he deserve them?
Didn’t he deserve everything?