her full weight resting against me, her breathing slow and deep. My mom and Charlene were looking for something. They were pulling open cabinets and drawers and slamming them shut. Something crashed loudly to the floor. “What were you thinking?” my mother screamed. “You do not fuck with guys like that.” Charlene kicked the couch. “Look in the bedroom you dumb cunt,” my mother said. Charlene was drunk. She righted herself and stumbled toward the back of the trailer. My mother grabbed my arm and pulled me up and off the couch. Jill flopped onto her back. She put her finger to her lips and pointed toward the door. I shook my head no. My mother clamped a strong arm around my waist and a hand over my mouth. I looked at Jill and then I was outside the trailer, wearing a borrowed T-shirt and underwear, being dragged barefoot into the night. Inside the trailer Charlene screamed, “Where’s the gun, Jill? What happened to the gun?” It was then I remembered. We’d left it at the range. We’d wanted brownies. We held hands and we walked away from the gun. Just left it lying there, as though safety would find us.