Stupid Women

On a cold winter day, Lena left her husband. They had been married for nearly 20 years. She didn’t take much, just one suitcase full of as many clothes as she could jam into it. She did it while he was at work. She told no one.
1990s | Ohio | By BONNIE LANDIS

Bio-Dad

She was 10 when they told her. She remembers her mother crying a lot, but she was not surprised or sad to learn that the dad she had always had was not her dad, and in fact she had another dad, a “real dad.” She had always suspected something was slightly off.
1984 to 2002 | California and Louisiana | By BETH MILLER

What Grandfather Did

From the outside the family appears to be nothing more than a loud but typical group of educated, vaguely liberal people. But there is a family secret. A proper secret. Not just, “Oh, we don’t talk about that!” We have a secret guaranteed to bring conversation to a screeching halt.
1950s | New Zealand | By JAN GRAEME

Ignoring the Signs

She was a model for international designers and a professional ballerina. She was the epitome of beauty and grace with her long, slender body, her manicured features, chestnut brown hair, and dazzling, emerald eyes. Her body was her most treasured possession.
1994 to 1999 | Faquier, Virginia | By TERESA PANIA

Death of a Brother

So much of how her brother lived was forever burned in a fire caused, they are told, by “careless disposal of smoking material.” That night he was dropped off at the pub, where he ate dinner and played pool, had 5 1⁄2 beers, was too tired to finish, and walked home.
November 2000 | New Hampshire | By KRISTIN MAYE

Girl Soldier

No one brought a camera. Most were late. He was not there. She had been to all his major events, watched him drop out of high school, join the military, and become top of his class in college. They spoke about how they hated that he was not there. She had failed again.
1990s to present | Georgia | By LOLA G’DAI

Fried Spiders for Breakfast

If you ate nothing but fried spiders for breakfast, you would probably assume that everyone else’s breakfasts consisted of fried spiders as well. She didn’t grow up eating fried spiders, but she did grow up in a home where domestic violence was an almost daily event.
1960s to 1970s | Hugo, Oklahoma | By VICTORIA BAYS

Hidden in a Dish Towel

She blinked in horror as her father violently slid open the door, storming into the house. The sounds of startled teenagers drifted over her ears as everything slowed. His face, blotchy from anger, danced in front of her eyes as a hand knocked the drink from her grip
Early 1970s and mid 1990s, Indiana | By RAYNE WATSON

A Respectable Disease

When anyone asks, she always says her mom died from cancer. It’s a respectable disease. But that’s not the whole story. Only her family and one or two close friends know the whole story. Mom wouldn’t want her story told. She was always so ashamed and embarrassed.
1976 to 1980 | Mentor, Ohio and Venice, Florida | By ISABELLE MERLE

Under the Weight of My Mother’s Past

She walked in on her daughter shoveling ice cream into her mouth. Straight out of the carton, barely stopping to breathe. Her daughter swallowed — slowly — and said “hello” to her mother. Slowly, the daughter told herself, return the carton to the freezer and get out of the kitchen.
August 1998 | Minnesota | By Sally M. Berry