Years ago. And I never knew until today. For the past two days, my sister and I have been doing a lot of talking on the phone. We talked for two hours yesterday and 90 minutes today. We really cleared the decks of a lot of shit that had been getting in the way of our relationship. And then she told me that years ago she was raped in a parking lot. She never told the cops or my parents. She only told the man who would one day be her second husband, a co-worker, and myself. I used to think that I was a miserable person and had a rotten life. I used to think that bad things happened only to me. But now... My poor sister. She says that she just dealt with it on her own and has since been able to live with it. She has a wonderful husband, two kids, a good job, some degree of security and mood medication. She says she's gotten over it. But I'm living it right now, years after the fact. In my imagination. My poor sister.