During the summers, there was no midweek respite from Trunnis, but my brother and I learned to hop on our bikes and stay far away for as long as we could. One day, I came home for lunch and entered the house through the garage like normal. My father usually slept deep into the afternoon, so I figured the coast was clear. I was wrong. My father was paranoid. He did enough shady deals to attract some enemies, and he’d set the alarm after we left the house.

When I opened the door, sirens screamed and my stomach dropped. I froze,backed up against the wall, and listened for footsteps. I heard the stairs creak and knew I was fucked. He came downstairs in his brown terrycloth robe, pistol in hand, and crossed from the dining room into the living room, his gun out front. I Could see the barrel come around the corner slowly.

As soon as he cleared the corner he could see me standing just twenty feet away,but he didn’t drop his weapon. He aimed it right between my eyes. I started straight at him, blank as possible, my feet anchored to the floor boards. There Was no one else in the house, and part of me expected him to pull the trigger, but by this time in my life I no longer cared if I lived or died. I was an exhausted eight-year-old kid, plain old fucking tired of being terrified of my father, and I was sick of Skateland too. After a minute or two he lowered his weapon and went back upstairs.

By now it was becoming clear that someone was going to die on Paradise Road.My mother knew where Trunnis kept his .38. Some days she timed and followed him—envisioned how it would play out. They’d take separate cars to Skateland,she’d grab his gun from beneath the office sofa cushions before he could getthere, bring us home early, put us to bed, and wait for him by the front door with his gun in hand. When he pulled up, she’d step out the front door and murder him in his driveway—leave his body for the milkman to find. My uncles, her brothers, talked her out of it, but they agreed she needed to do something drastic or she’d be the one lying dead.

It was an old neighbor who showed her a way. Betty used to live across thestreet from us and after she moved they stayed in touch. Betty was twenty years older than my mom and had the wisdom to match. She encouraged my mother to plan her escape weeks in advance. The first step was getting a credit card in her name. That meant she had to re-earn Trunnis’ trust because she needed him to cosign. Betty also reminded my mother to keep their friendship a secret.

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