by Matt Barrett Andrew Bain He remembers they took their father’s truck, so they had room for all their things. He remembers a curve on the highway, in either New York or Connecticut, and a high concrete wall hiding the sun and trees. He remembers getting there — sitting in the backseat, the belt across his chest. He remembers no one saying much. His father parking the truck and shutting his eyes, leaning the driver’s seat so far back Joanne had to sit in the middle. He remem