Bernice would sit in her room in the trailer, which smelled of cream and velimints, and watch her own television, as she didn’t like baseball nor my...father none whatsoever mind you, though once in a blue moon if she had a taste from the wine, which jesus said was okay once in awhile, after all, she’d admit in low breathes that my dad was okay, though he worked too much at the machine shop and watched too many ball games on the TV. And Bernice liked her Lawrence Welk, and PBS, and things of. My matching Bra. No knickers, as requested. My favourite red dress and black sling-back heels completing the outfit. I had spent some time in the shower too, removing hair. My arms, legs and pubic area. I dressed quickly. I knew he would want another drink soon. That was my responsibility. Light make up, gloss, mascara. A light spray of Lolita and I was ready to descend downstairs. I turned the handle of the door and moved quickly into the room. It was quiet, the curtains closed, the. More

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