The same week I turned twenty three, I got out of bed and dressed quietly and slowly so as not to wake my fiancé. I picked up the keys to our car by covering them with my fingers. I drove an hour and a half to my grandfather's house in Orange County. My grandfather had been a cop, and he had willed this house to my brother, who had also become a cop, but who had rented his own apartment in the city to be closer to his department and his Mexican girlfriend. We had both spent a lot of time here. A realtor’s sign was on the lawn. There were realtor’s signs on several houses on this block, several houses without cars, or their lights on. This block was a cul-de-sac, each house with its own lawn, each a place to imagine your life defined and protected and sustaining, an American beaut. I had been in bed thinking about what it would be like to fire a gun into a swimming pool. I couldn’t get the idea of how satisfying it would be out of my head. I figured, it was something I could give myself. I could give it to myself like buying a box of Cheez Its and eating them instead of dinner. I started thinking about the gun safe in my grandfather’s house. I could remember the combination. I went in and it worked. The rifle was gone but there was a nine millimeter pistol and, in a drawer, ammunition. There was also a stack of Playboys, a big leather bound book with a big Tolstoy in gold embossing on the cover, and a humidor box. The box had one Cohiba cigar, but that was my brother's last cigar. Sometimes our grandfather gave us a cigar. I went to the back of the house. The pool was covered. I put the gun on the pebble glass table and uncovered the pool. In the rhombus of kitchen light I was able to find the covered light switch for the pool. I flicked it, and the pool lit up. I took the gun into my hand and undid the safety. I fired it into the pool. I was satisfied. I stood there. I felt the force that had been discharged into my wrist and the air. I found I had another curiosity. I took the gun and turned off all the lights in the house and locked back up and put the spare key back under the aloe vera plant that sat in a terracotta pot against the side alley of the house. I had to put the gun down again to do that. I remember putting it on the ground. I got into my car. I drove up to one of the blank, available houses. I heard a dog barking. A big dog. I twisted in my seat and lifted up the gun. I rested my forearm against the window. I wanted to see how this would feel. I had read about this happening. I shot into the house. I slid my forearm along the rubber of the window. I shot into the house. A window broke. The lights of the house turned on. I drove. I know I am not a coward. I looked to see what happened. You may not believe me but I have never lied to myself about what could have happened, and how I've felt.