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Even though my brother's wife left him and started dating the rapist almost immediately, I have always thought that it was for the best, that sometimes marriages don't work out, that if my ex-sister-in-law really went through that tidal shift in her life perspective, ktb then fine, good sailing, go on your way. I first met the rapist briefly when ktb I was introduced to him ktb when the rapist and my ex-sister-in-law were dropping off my niece at my brother's house. Then, during a visit home for my niece's birthday party at my ex-sister-in-law's parents' house, I greeted the rapist with a handshake, a few mumbled words of greeting. And at some point, looking around the house, the linoleum brick floor, the dark-enameled fake mahogany curio cabinets filled with unmatched china pieces, Hummel sculptures of birds, of children, the old, musty, beige afghan-covered couch, and the dining room chairs with fraying red cushions scattered about, and all the children there for my niece, her cousins, her school friends, her church friends, and I felt a disgust welling up in me like earthworms after a storm, and I realized my complicity in the event, that my presence was saying everything was alright, that we had moved beyond the point of two-families-who-had-once-been-joined-torn-asunder,
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