I was 22. A girl I’d been close friends with before she moved away was in town and invited me for a drink with her and her new boyfriend. I meet them, have a couple beers and go home. Very unremarkable evening. Drive home is 45 minutes through bumfucknowhere. Halfway there my stomach starts doing […]
My family feels like a cult.
When I visit, I feel like Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby, entering a building whose inhabitants are all members of the same cult just watching and waiting for her to join them. Seriously: When I walk in, conversations stop, everyone just turns and stairs. The stairs are followed by forced smiles and forced conversation, fake laughter, exaggerated hospitality.