Prince understands. He is the only one who understands me.

Then one day I come in from the porch. It’s starting to get dark so early, now that it’s winter. I come into the living room and it’s all in shadow. I can’t see anyone’s face clearly, all I see are their teeth shining.

It is so quiet. Then I hear their breathing, each one of them separately like singers not in harmony. They are all waiting for something.

“I wish I had a steak,” says Eliott, his voice strained and high.

A pause.

“In Africa they eat grubs and things. Maybe there are worms in the backyard,” says Pat.

“You can eat dandelion greens. I’ve heard of a dandelion salad,” says Eliott.

Pat says, “I heard in Korea people eat dogs.”

No one says anything. I can see the room get darker.

Then my dad stands up.

“What are you doing?” my mother says. He doesn’t answer.

“Where are you going? Howard—don’t —don’t—”

My dad is reaching for his gun. My brothers stand up.

“What are you doing? How can you even think of—”

They are walking slowly to the door.

“He’s a man, Howard! A man! You can’t—” my mother screams.

“He’s a dog,” says my dad. “He’s an animal.”

And then I see the door swing open, see Prince lift his head expectantly. I see my dad lift the gun and aim. I’m trying to get over there, I can’t get there fast enough, the air is too thick.