A Memoirby Tatiana Schlote-Bonne
My father strums his guitar, his voice deep and smooth as he sings an Elvis Presley song about two people caught in a trap. There’s no way out. The man can’t escape because he loves the woman too much.
I’m ten years old and this song fascinates me—two people have fallen into a spiked pit trap and now they are dying. I know this because I’ve been watching The Edge over and over, and my only notion of the word trap is the scene where Alec Baldwin falls into a bear pit. He’s impaled, the wood piercing his thigh, blood flowing over exposed muscle.
I hum along to my dad’s Elvis song, envisioning Alec Baldwin with his beautiful blonde wife in the spike pit. They want to leave, but their bodies are broken. All they can do is bleed and groan. All they can say is I love you.