One night my mom made dinner, and when I cut into the chicken, it wasn’t cooked, so I said so. The next thing I know, Edwards flipped his plate so that it flew across the room and smashed into the wall. I threw my hands up as if to say, “What the fuck?” and at that he jumped up and started screaming gibberish and ran out of the room. When he got back, he was holding the end of the cord that attached to my record player—he’d cut it off with scissors. He was still yelling.
