Bellerive, Issue 7: Everything Can Change

Na th aniel Hunton, Consultant

Bobby Meile, Co-Chair

Angela Benoist, Co-Chair

Jessica Griffard

Geoffrey Harmon

Claire Jacques

Caleb Miller

Caitelin Sappington

Carolyn Bond, Chair

Justin Riddler, Assistant Chair

Julie Creech

Shannon Pendleton, Consultant

Missy Yearian, Chair

Peggy Sue McCloskey

Justi Montague

Patricia Lee, Chair

Jamie Dickerson

Nancy Gleason

Lqyout Committee P11hlicit)' Committee / amfty A dvisor

AJ J m emb ers of the staff participated in the selection process.

\ l tH )n:-htnc

.\'<1t(.I' / ro111 th t E ditors

\ ofts / iw11 th t Facu lry Advisor

Rc.1! Esrnre

I::1 th e r Figure

The Girl on the Street

Durdle D oo r

F lo wers o n the Loo p

Paramedics

E legy for My Dad

R a ndall Hugg Is Dead

Ballot Box

Media

My Inability to Be a Coat Rack

Losers

August Embrace

From Yeats

In Forest Park, Jul y 2006

The Infamous Llon

july

Truck Tires Crunch My Snowy Driveway As ...

Subtlety

Thoughts of Grandpa

Compromise

Big Jim

Young Patriots

Lennon's Song

Love Leaving

Doubt

Seeing Double

The End

The Overture Lost

Thoughts in Lace

Two Pairs of Pajamas

And by "Deadly" I Mean "Delicious"

Sunday with Galaxia

St. Ives, England

In White

Bittersweet and Gr ateful

Lo ng Shadows

Julie Cree ch

Jean Meyer

Caleb Miller

Ma ria Ba logh

Kristi Rhoades

Rilee D eClu e

Caleb Mi ller

Caitelin Sappington

Missy Yearian

Kate Drolet Kimble

Caleb Miller

Jamie Mabb

Mike J\1cHugh

Kate Drolet Kimble

Jason Han cock

Robert M. Bliss

Kristi Rhoades

Kate Dro let Kimble

Ca itelin Sapp ington

Nathaniel Hun ton

Juli e Creech

Jam ie Mabb

Caleb Miller

Caiteli11 Sappington

Rilee DeC/11e

1vf.ike Mc H1,g,h

Na than iel H,m ton

Ju lie Creech

Jam ie J\l!a bb

}l ich ael f etters

[ll lie Creech .

·Suzanne Ro11ss111

Bob0' J !eile

Jason Bollinge r

J',Jotes fr 0" 1 1 ·

hf E, ditot:r

~d · 0 Co mmitt ee Co n s ult a nt

H nton, .E Jtt g :l . N r.hai1.1el u . ,. tru e but as 11:1y mot 1et noted when h a ' o cha nge, its ,. . s e h ear \ E , en thing ca what ac tuall y ch an ges 1s yo ur perception f .c the tit! . . sometimes . o thin e f this iss ue,, · tion ,s somew h at the reverse. After havin b gs. ln th o //, ri flf the situ a . f . . g een s e Cas e o t Bl' I' together fo ur issu es o thJS publication I O bles I o h elp put . , can s sec1 as to be ab e _t • ss and m y perception of th e quality of the 6 ay that tn . t the proce . 1n al pr y cni o~·111 cnr _ 0 l h levels. Over th e p ast spring a nd ea rly summer I 0 d uq , a10 ed at ug . • c d 11 , got a l h:1'-c ren . f th process: ad ver u sm g 1or an co e ct.t.ng the sub Ook . . . . t side o e tn1s s10 at .1 d1ttci en cve rvthina Can Change---a noth e r wonderful learn;..... ns fot uld beco me .L, J 6 •LU. 1 g exn . what wo und for o n e last round of selection and editin thi t'er1ence ot to hang aro . g s p · I e,·en g all th t u·m e I can c o nfidently say that lt takes a lot of h ast r After a ' . . ard se01 e5 re · . bmission to selecuon to correct.t.on to coordination t 'Wotk, - creatio n to su O Pubij tr a m bl O iss u e o f Belleri ve, but the results have been worth it c . ato assem e a every · oon, th agree th e results are worth y of the efforts in the pres tim e. \'(e ho pe at ) o u ent case.

bb . Meile Editing Committee Co-Chair

Bo \ ' B " . d fi . · , seco nd wonderful year m euertve an m y 1rst as a committe Thi s was 111) . e CO-chair Th e process of putting this book t~gether was a Joyous one; we read great-and · eat-lite ratur e cavor t ed WJth our fellow book-putter-togetherers a d b no r so gr · ' . . , n , est f all edite d other p eo ple's wnt.t.ng for grammar and spelling rrustakes! Findin o , bli . g and correcting backwards quotation marks-a su me experience! I am really proud of this yea r 's publication; the co~er, the selected pieces, all of it. I'm disheartened by the departures of Nathan, Missy, and Shannon. They have helped carr y this publicati on through, from b eginning to end. For next year, I hope that the help of my co- ch air Angela Benoist will make me one-fifth the editor that Our Fearles s Leader JS.

Shann o n Pendleton, Layout Committee Consultant

T h.is iss ue of Belleriv e is m y third and last experience with this wonderful publicatio n. I' ve learned a g reat deal about communication, compromise, creativity, and ca reful planning in m y three yea rs with Bellerive. These lessons are ones ,vhich I will ca rr y with m e into all of m y future endeavors . I wish to extend m y de e p es t appreciatio n to all o f our staff for their hard work and dedication. Each m e mb er of th is yea r's staff mad e important c o ntributions to our final product. I would like to rhanl-: all o f th e arti st s, writers, and poets who continue to make this publication pcJ ss1blt bv pl ac· h · k · · th e pub. . , in g t eir wor tn o ur hands and trustin g us to present 1t to · lie in a Pr<> fe ss ional mann e r. I must also thank m y m e nt or N ancy G leaso n , wh 0 ha s taught me h b ' · · ·1. for so mu c a o ut the kind of person I want to b e· and my i-an-ii '· not com plai · I ' .J -· ~in g a X>ut the t im e I've dedicated to this and a ll of nw o th e r cu u c'.\ bo na! co mmitm ent s. .

Miss y Yearian , Layo ut Committee Chair

I began m y third and final year of Bellerive with the expec r.acio n th :-u I \\-.1s som ehow an expert who knew how to handle herself on a staff of this kind. F ro m the selection stages to those last moments of p utting together the final la~-our~ I fo W1d I still had more to learn than I could have imagined. The last coup le of weeks :ire alw·:i~-s the most difficult for the layout staf~ and I am greatly indebted to Sh3.ll11on, Peggy Sue, and Justi for their efforts during those last moments. Even more than thanks are due to our advisor, Nanc y Gleason P rodu cing a publication like BeUm t'f is :lll enjoyable experience for all involved, but it is also a difficult and complic.ned rnsk I would like to express my thanks to N ancy and the Honors College fo r allowing me to serve on this publication for three years. I have learned more than I c~ sny, and I wish that those who follow will have as rewarding an experience as mine.

Carolyn Bond, Art Committee Chair

It gives me a great sense of accomplishment that this year's BeJ/en·, ,c is repres em.1tive of the UMSL student body and the issues that concern us. Bellerive 200 6 includes insightful material and great compositions of vi sual art in a profession al quality format. From m y past three years of experience with the Honors College art show, I was well aware that there were many talented arcisrs on campus, some o f whom will make their publishing debut in Bellerive. My work on the an committee has been a great learning experience, and I have enjoyed working with m~- fellow committee members, Justin Riddler and Julie Creech.

1'-J"otes from the Faculty A dvisor

Thi . of Bellerive is a diverse collection of writings and an . fl . s issue . 1e ec nn (} . , d tists' abilities to take what 1s or has been and co pres en h_· the wnters an ar t t tngs i . li ht The class of Bellerive worked h ard to select blind subniis "' n a different g · , s1ans 10 b. . way to offer a wide array of works, and to select a title and a an O 1ect1ve , . cover ill ted those works. The result was a lively class and a cove r and t1'tl that ustra · e that fl d the idea that perspectives can change by turrung th em around and re ecte captur- ing them differently.

We have on our staff many seniors who have b een with the publican· . ' on ot Bellerive for three years; I would like to express my special thanks to th em fo r their commitment to the publication and the Honors College. We als o had stud ents who will be returning next year to the staff, and I want to thank them in advance for their dedication and inspiration to other students who will join th e staff fo r the first time. I want to mention the first-time students in the class this year wh o might not return to the class; their work and fresh attitudes gave all of us new way~ of looking at things which is so important. Lastly, I must mention one student · who has served on the staff of Bellerive for a record-breaking numb er of years, fo ur years to be exact. Nathan Hunton has been a guiding light for all four of those years, and I am grateful to him for all of his quality work in the submission process and as the chair of the editing committee. This past summer he organized all of the submissions, so the class could begin the selection process of ove r '.:?.30 submis- sions. Thank you, Nathan.

I am very lucky to be the faculty advisor for Belleri ve and to wo rk with such a gifted, special group of students, our class of Honors 3020, Fall Semester, 200(1. Thank yo u to my entire class. The publication demanded a lo t of wo rk, but our gro up was up to the challenge. I hope you will enjoy Everything Can Cha n~~ /' a.nd the contributions of the writers and artists from our UM-St. Louis campus.

Nanc y Gleason

Real Estate

The woman who made me stayed over last night. She arrived at my door, knocked twice and then entered like it was an unoccupied bathroom. Her knuckles were a spotted white from juggling several overnight bags and her book bag, bloated from night school courses. She was heavy and out of breath. Without saying a word, she went to m y bedroom, the only bedroom. She let out an exaggerated sigh of relief that echoed throughout the building, and then dropped her belongings.

' 'Boy," she said, returning from the bedroom, "traffic sure is bad. Rush hour is starting earlier and earlier these days. Soon it will be at noon."

She shuffled around, looking at my new art installations on the wall. She made a face at the nude paintings, as if they were to blame for something cumbersome like famine or locusts. There was a lot for her to look at, and to look away from. It had been a while since she had been over.

''You live so far," was her best excuse, "and I have to drive every major interstate to get to the city."

1\1y excuses were better. I was too poor-gas was higher than ever-and too busy to visit her. That usually quiets her, she doesn't probe. She doesn't want to know wha t busies me.

' 'Boy," she said, suddenly embarrassed for staring at the nudes for too long, ' 'I'm hungry."

It was mid-afternoon, teatime in some pockets of the world.

"Have you had dinner yet?" she asked, knowing the answer.

I hadn't even had lunch.

She wanted to go to this Mexican place she saw on the way in. She saw a sign for it somewhere in the suburbs-twenty minutes away, forty with traffic. The sign had a sombrero and pinata dancing around, having a good time. I knew the one. It looked like a child's birthday party: noisy and brief.

"But there's a mom-and-pop place just down the block," I said. "We can walk there."

" I want to try this other place out. It looks good." She's been known to put com p lete faith in billboards.

I didn't argue. She was paying, and I was celebrating my good news. Rarely is there jus t good news Bad news always comes along for the ride, spoiling all the fun. But today was djfferent. Today was not like yesterday and the days before it, now too di s tant and too easy to forget.

It was Margarita Monday down a t the strip mall Mexican place. I had the waiter bring me a king-size with extra lim e. His name was Jesus, and he knew more

h E glish to get by. I was sure that he heard enough bad Christ . k than enoug n . JO es to c ame change but torught he was my savior. The margarita w th save up 1or a n , as e . f all fishbowl standing on one delicate leg. It demanded my atte 0 size o a sm . n on; it . htrope walker with no safety net below. I took a sip. The lady sittin was a t1g . g across from me, the one who brought me here an~ bought me ~his centerpiece, read my tl n I've had better margaritas, ones with more tequila. But I didn't say th reac o . . at out loud. I didn't want to seem ungrateful. So I smiled without showing my teeth.

"Boy," she said with those large eyes of hers, rising above the horizon of the margarita, "that's big."

She tapped her water straw on her cup and used it to dive into my fish- bowl. She sipped cautiously, like it was medicine.

"I can sure taste that tequila." She took another sip. She deserved it. It had been a long journey.

Jesus brought us some chips and diluted salsa. She kept the salsa in the center of the table but pulled the chips closer to her; it was a stack of poker money she had just won.

"Boy," she said without taking her attention away from the basket, "it's smoky in here. What's the point of having smoking sections two feet away from the non-smokers?"

She said it like she was the first, like a revolution was brewing right there in our hazy booth. But no one else seemed to care; their ashtrays were overflowing and their mouths were flapping and blowing smoke.

"They should ban smoking in the restaurants, like they did in California." She took another sip, a longer sip.

"Maybe you should write a letter," I said, craving a cigarette.

I had quit recently. I quit drinking, too. But now that my test results were back I was free to begin again. Now I needed a cigarette, but I liked the status of a non-smoker. All the luxury, all the good health. I didn't want to bum a smoke any- more. I didn't want to buy a box and then a carton. I wanted to run up stadium steps like the man does in the commercials and stand at the top looking down while angelic light strikes me from behind. He quit, why can't I?

But I was drinking, and margaritas demand company. I watched a man at h b hi li In my t e next ooth take a long, sweet drag. The smoke trickled from s ps. . mind, I ripped that cigarette from his mouth and inhaled it like morning air, th e fir st breath of the day, the first breath for the rest of my life.

"I quit smoking," I said out loud. . a chip

''You should have never started in the first place." She was eau ng. of rhi: thinl d · h f the centet Y coate wit . salsa. There were small puddles of saJsa rom table to her placemat.

I took another drink. _ . were ot11· I b

d tan111tes ket~ t was usy for Margarita Monday. Lots of couples an . I ick poc They kept J . · ht with n d bc:111~ esus sweatmg and happy; he would go home tonig . he foo · and a slight h d h

l dl nouced t ea ac e. He served young couples who 1ar Y

pl aced in fro nt o f th em. The y were fresh and close to ea ch o ther, always o n th e ve rg e of kissing They had nothing to lo se; the y tipped J es us well. The rest of the couple s were chubby and comfortable , looking around while their children scribbled on the table. There was nothing to say an ymore; their lives were on autopilot. The y had bad sex, and it showed in the way the y tipped.

I hoped Richie and I never get like that: bored with each other I needed to talk to him at that moment, even more than I needed a cigarette. This was his good news, too. He had been a pile of nerves for weeks, we both had been. I quit smoking and he smoked more. He ate little and I made m yself sick. We didn't have sex. Now here I was, celebrating without him, celebrating with a stranger who looks like me. I looked across the table at the woman who was almost done with the chip basket; the thin paper that lined the basket was evidence of destruction. With a napkin, she wiped up the constellation of salsa drips, and then placed the stained napkin neatly on her placemat. She kept the basket empty, so that Jesus would know that she needed more. I took another drink , without the straw. It was a toast . . to today ... and to Richie and me ... to us ... and to expensive margaritas that I didn't have to pay for. I was always bad at speeches, even the ones I made inside m y head.

By the time our food came, I was feeling good. I started talking out loud, telling her things like she was my friend. I didn't care. I told her about Richie and being late. About the tests, the ones I took over the toilet, shaking. That little pink line. How positive we both were. How scared. I told her about the clinic and the nice lady who told me otherwise. I said it all. And then I drank more.

She sat there awhile. Just below her, the beans and rice waited to be acknowledged. They were steaming. The tortillas were limp and half asleep.

"I don't know why you had to go to that baby-killing place," she finally said in a loud whisper, the kind that makes people want to eavesdrop, more so than a normal voice.

"At least I didn't have to do that," I snapped back.

We both looked away, our faces hot.

At another table, the bored couple watched as their children ordered whatever the y wanted, pointing to some cartoon food on a laminated menu. The kids had their own menu, one with burgers and fries and pizza. It was that kind of place: a chain restaurant. I imagined someone like me three states over ordering the same meal as me and drinking the same big margarita. And like me she is being served something that tastes almost exactly the same: not ver y good, but filling.

She finall y came back to the booth again , but not b ecause of the food. She reached for th e fi shb o wl and t o ok the last drink-b ackwas h and alc o h o l.

I waved to Jesus to bring m e ano th e r

She put her stained napkin o n h er lap, clear ed her thro at and began to eat. She didn't stop until she wa s fini shed. .

I had Jesus put mine in a d oggy bag It was in th e sam e state that 1t came

We arrived home from dinner when the re st of the city was hu . . f lr fting hr ugh th . ngr )· \X l','t\ were returru.ng home rom worl'½ s1 t o e mail and kissi ng th • h ' eir ~- bands. Husbands had already picked up the kids from day care o r latchkey F there they all retreated to their separate rooms, in front o f their own di<tr . · ~om ' ., acn<m· of flashing screens and background n01se The y wa1ted for dinner. It arri ved with a signal: a timer, a phone call, or a doorbell.

Driving out of the suburbs was sobering enough . The sun warmed the back of our heads and shone off the tops of the cars that formed an impatien t line ahead of us. Car horns went off like clockwork~v eryone was late for home. As always, our car was silent except for the hum of talk radi o and all the problems of the world that never get solved on the air. There was never enough time; the real issues were always being cut off by the music and important servi ce announcements.

She drove conservatively-slowly and braking often-never taking her eyes off the road. She hated the traffic, but she didn't say a word. She wanted to get back to study for her test. Tomorrow was the big day. She had taken a real estate class at the community college. She passed the class and had a certificate to prove it. But now she had to pass an exam

"The exam is four hours long," she told me when we got home.

I had crashed on the couch, waiting for a good time to call Richie. I decided to do it after she went to bed.

"Out of five people who take it, only one will pass."

I imagined four people sitting down, on the verge of tears because their dreams of being an agent were crushed. It reminded me of when a theatre compan y promoting abstinence-only performed at my high school. The group-young, dear-faced Samaritans-had the entire crowd stand up and then made half of them sit down. That other half had some kind of venereal disease. And then the company showed some gruesome slides of what their diseases looked like; we all felt bad for the other half and made fun of them. A girl behind me whispered that she had decided to become a nun, even though she wasn't Catholic. After that, th ey dismissed us to class, where we were expected to learn.

" Boy," she said, ''There's lots of math in realty. It's more than juS t selling houses."

She told me that o ne-quarter of the test consisted of wor pro · graphs half a page long. Nu mbers disguised as words. She had to learn to sift h

d blem s· para -

Sh had formu- t rough all the un n ecess ar y information to get to the real problem. e k 1 L d h avy boo s, as SK.etched on index card s and a fat calculator as her guide. She ha e ev h · _ h thev cost. ery one t e size of a clictionary. She complained about how muc 1

"M · d th write them Yin structo r said to memorize all the formulas an en k 0 0 down as so o n as I get into the test," she said this as she spread her schoolwo r th e coffee table, pu srung my magazines aside.

I got up from the couch, realizing I was in th e wa y of progress. ;\ ftc r al l, this was the first thing she'd done since Dad left.

"Will you make m e some coffee ?" she as ked , see in g that 1 wa s sta nding. " Decaf."

I didn't believe in decaf coffe e

"I don't have decaf," I said from the kitchen.

"What about some tea?"

I didn't even have decaf tea, so I made black tea-only a ve ry li ghi- hrown .

Being in the kitchen reminded me of my neglect. Th e margarfra s had left m y veins and put hunger in its place. I immediately thought about th e doggy bag and its whereabouts. I had emptied two fishbowls by the time J esus packed up my food. In one swift motion he scraped the piles of food into a container. The last thing I remembered was the dead-end noise it made when it hit the bottom. Plop. From there, it was the car and the road and the sun and the woman squeez in g the steering wheel, afraid to let go.

I wanted to ask her where the doggy bag was, but I didn't want to in terrupt her studying. She was processing the impossible, I could tell by the deep line engraved on her forehead. After the divorce settlement, that line showed up m ore and more.

As the teakettle was boiling, I looked in the fridge, empty except for a lo n e Styrofoam box. Somehow I knew my dinner wasn't there by its own doing, it didn't just walk home on its own. I heated it up in the microwave. It was loud and smelly, just like the restaurant. In the next room she didn't say a word. She didn't even look up from her books when I brought in the tea and my dinner.

That night, she didn't sleep at all and neither did I. She took my bed and I took the hardwood floor, spreading blankets down for support. It made no difference; both of us were wide-awake and thinking too much. There was a heavy discomfort hanging in the air-it was too quiet. We both filled the silence with exaggeration. She tossed in bed and coughed and cleared her throat. I pretended to sleep, breathing harder than I needed to. Finally, she got out of bed, shifting h er weight forward and onto her feet. She navigated herself in the dark but n ot very weJJ. She kicked me o n the way to the light switch. I let her know I was th ere.

"O h, I forgot you were down there." By then she h ad found th e li ght an<l had turned it on, blinding the both of us.

" Boy," sh e said, "my h ead hurt s. Do yo u have an y aspir in ?''

" fn the bathroom," I grumb led.

I stayed on th e floor. A sh ee t wa s ti g ht ove r m y head, offering a shield from the light . I li stened to h e r rummage throu g h ni y bathroom drawers, through my life. It wa s too late to care wh at s he wou ld find, too late to protect h er. She o pen ed the bathroom mirror and my presc ripti o ns sta red ha c k at her. She read th e labels, she read the in structions: take o n e if n eeded; do not exceed dosage; ta ke with food. She paused . And th e n fina ll y clos ed the mirror, where she had over-

k d the bottle of aspirin .. loo e find ., she said loud enough to r the ne1ghbo rs to respo nd

"1 can't an), ' . . . b k the blankets and gm up in one m o non. She rubbed her tern

I threw ac . . - d th bottle among the bnght o range containers. She looked away ples as I locate e . · out of courtesy. . . . _

"This is all 1 have," I srud, passmg a p ill trom my palm t0 hers. There was only one left. It had been a rough couple of weeks and my supplies \Yere running low. ;>"

"Do you have some water.

I wanted to say No, that I was all out of water and that she should look someplace else. But instead I went to the kitchen, refusing to turn on the light. When I came back to the bedroom, she had already taken the aspirin, swallowmg it in a dry mouth. She lay still on my bed, closing her eyes as if avoiding an eclipse that would surely blind her. I set the glass of water at her bedside

''Will you tum the light off?" she asked. And I obeyed.

I listened to her tossing and turning. The sheets threatened to tear off at the ends and bunch up like a rope. She was figuring out word problems in her head, I could hear it all: Mr. So-and-So was buying a piece of land and wanted to put a house on it. He only had X amount to buy it with, and some of that would have to go into the building costs and taxes and his wife. Mrs. So-and-So wanted an extended garage and a garden. She was a fastidious one and Mr. So-and-So yielded often, trying to save their title and good name. He wanted a shed for all his rnols and a place to dig a lake. But more importantly he was thinking about a guest house, but not really for the guests.

In the middle of the problem, the phone rang. ''Who calls you at such an hour?" I didn't answer, she knew who. Richie was wide awake with his own word problems. He had lots of ques- tions for me. I gave him the good news something so he could sleep. He was _ h ' . d the rnargar appy, we both were. I wanted to tell him everything, about dinner an . . d th d h her listening, ttas an e restless lady in my bed who was now quiet. I coul ear k to d din I d went bac eco g. told him I had to go and he understood. I hung up an . my place on the floor. It didn't feel right spending the night witbout hlrn- "Boy," she said, "my right eye hurts."

· · th I wo so proceeded to lay down, despite my predictions at my feet again.

uld on be 0 11 I

"D I h d settled un 0 you have any eye drops?" she asked after a ,, t'll ers. drops- I

"I , didn' have any eye ts probably from the headache," I said. I t go away."

"N · ' ·

der the cov·

a 0 , lt s defirutely my eyeball."

. ce ber-ve

And lik l · the d1fferen rrhe p:11 , e an expert she went on to exp run ala~Y- .1 headache d . '

· the same g, an eye pam. Two separate worlds, but in ~

distinct and isolated. She knew all about it

I still clidn 't have any eye drops.

" You sure?" she asked.

And I got up to loo k. It made her feel better

In th e m orning, she wanted to go to Yum -Yum \. 1 cLdn't want tug'> f t was still d ark out and I had just gotten to sleep. But she wa~ h ud and 1m1 , tcn1 , movi ng about the ap artm e nt , o pening cabinets, closi ng door .,, unuJ .,he gr,t her w,,..,. La st time she came to visit, we we nt to Yum -Yum's. I remembered 1t well , like the beginning of a new tradition . It wa s a wh o le sea so n ago when the a1r and <..-ve r)· thing else was cold, so cold that each co nversatio n bega n with commentary ,,n the temperature: Can you believe how cold it is? H ow ab o ut that w1nd -chill fact,Jr:' In the winter I usuall y have a perpetual chill , n o m atte r how high the heat ic, turned ,,n o r how many layers I wear. But this seas o n was di ffe re n t. Ri chie and J had ju~t begun to stay at each other's places. We agree d th at we had the bes t of both w(J rl d e; : separate apartments but a shared bed.

Then one morning, she showed up at my apartm ent w1thout notice; it wa s too early to be prepared for anything. She came in, clutching her purse 1t had bec:n two years since Dad moved out, leaving the divorce papers o n the kitchen table . She needed something to do, somewhere to go, if only for a while. I tol d her to wait for just a second while I got dressed. Back in the bedro o m , I whispered -to Richie to hide under the covers. Having nowhere else to go at su ch an hou r, I took her to the diner. Down at Yum-Yum's the Greeks loved her. The y didn 't ignore h er like they do for a good ten minutes with me; the y served her co ffee upo n ar riv al. She looks Greek with her thick black hair and the shadow abo ve h er li p. O n m ost days, I look like Dad: North German, pale except for my own sh adow that I ke ep waxed and under control. I told her to order me a coffee while I went to the bathroom. In between the Mens and the Womens, there was a pay ph o n e where I called Richie.

When I returned the food had arrived. I was gone too long, enough to raise suspicion. I sat down and didn't look at her. In her eyes were unspoken que stions: What were you doing? Who's that? How'd you meet? Are you sleeping together? I didn't feel like explaining it. It was better left alone, lingering over a coffee and a bagel.

"I'm going to be late for my exam if we don't go down to breakfast n ow," she said. I was still protesting on the floor.

"Can't you eat something here?" It was a ridiculous response. There was nothing to eat. "Make some coffee."

But she alread y had. She stood over me with a mug in her hand.

" I need to get to the test early. I have to register and get situated."

The testing center was downtown, only ten minutes away. But it didn't matter where it was. She would be there earlier th an the administration , her pencils sh arpened, her hair curled, her lips without shade.

·thout rou " I assured her. B ur she stood th

, Th . on't star t Wl 1 ' ere · h

· e: w h got fro m the glass case, opened mth a k ' lO er - e- th e one s e ey, ar so good pertum ul dn 't p ronoun ce the fane: brand; she didn't rne " t sto re. Sh e co - need to -,., deparunen lf overp owenng the au. I r was h er besr ta culn- a · i ne - e spoke fo r its e ' . ' post-rnar pertumriage in,·esrment.

b k fro m the diner in record time. Sh e ate fasL I could nl We got ac o ' fini h f .: --decaf: I wanted to go back to sleep after she left. Th · . s half of my co iee . . e Waiter al th owner and the father of all the w aitres ses, was happr to . ' who was so e . . gn·e me a . S , ofoam The radio was playmg nostalgia , louder than neces s-:i n- Th ro -go cup. t}r . ...... ,. er he grew up with songs she could smg along to. I could te ll she · were songs s ' "anted him to turn it down. But he sang and refilled the sugar containers with blue and ink packets. She paid with cash but tipped with coins. When she wasn't lookin 1 ; dded more, restoring my reputation. Yum-Yum's was only a block away, and I g wanted to be able to come back and get serv ed in under an hour

Back at the apartment she packed up her things, checking off a list in her head. She was ready to go, to get it over with. I gav e her street directions and landmark directions for the third time. I even drew a map. She was worried that she had ro pay for parking. She didn't want to get a ticket parking on the street. Since she had given what little coins she had to the waiter, I gave her my pocket change fo r th e meter. Just in case.

''But I'll have to come out every hour and insert more coins," she said "They won't let me out of the exam to do that. "

I told her not to worry about it, to just pay for the garage.

"I'll give you mone y for the garage if that's what you need ."

She refused the offer; it wasn't what she needed. Just then, she took her keys out. There was a black tube of mace tied around the chain. I imagined her using it on a random passerby some suit who was goino- to the office; he was in ~ 1 h d 1 . ' o a cruo,t urry an ate for an 1mportant meeting with important clients. There was deal on th e line. But she would see his briefcase and know th at he was up to 00 good She wouldn't believe him when he was on the ground his eyes burning, I IY 1 di ' · s on 10 · p ea ng that he wasn't a rapist. That he has a wife and kids and someomeda ys they go to church.

" Boy" sh d "I . ,, ' e sa1 , sure hope I didn't forg e t an ythin g. .

I loo ked aro d H hi . . . . l f . 111 n11n e.

" un · er t ngs were eas y t o di s trn gtu s 1 t:O

I thi nk yo u go t it all"

"How do I lo k:>" h. n.)

I Id . 0 · s e a sked with eager eyes . 0 1rd (,r .1 1 to . her she I k d buc. 1n t'~ ~ it\l in the p 00 e goo d, goo d e n o ug h to b e o n a · . , 111:1kt'111' · aper The o nl y thi . . . I t" n1 o rc bigge r ha · . · ng mi ss in g w as th e excess ive g an1 o u · 1 iii' ir, stiff from h lf . linl'i

" D . a a ca n of h a ir s p ray. ,., ,, •t•ft b o yo u need h l - -:> ' ' I \er b:1~y the doo r 1 ki e P ca rr ying yo ur stu ft to t he c 11 , 1 1n·1

' oo ng s ll ..J ' bctnt t • i I , ll

Sh ma er th an th e lo ad s h e ca rri ed th e u ;l ~ bcl · e said sh e d m) b:1ck ro I wa s fin e. She in sist ed th at I srny an "

ask again.

She picked up he r bags and said goo d -b ye . I wi shed her good luck and opened the door for her. I listened as she walk ed down the stairs, out o f the building and into the street. I clo sed my d oor and went strai ght fo r the couch. The bedroom was too far. Turning over to lie o n m y sid e, l wa s at eye- leve l with the coffee table and my magazines hanging off the edge. U nderneath a magazine, I noticed somethjng-it was her calculator.

I ran to the window that overlooked the street. I o pened the window and stuck my head out.

"Mom!"

Out of habit, several women on the street turned their heads and looked around. But the woman I wanted was in her car, driving away.

Father Figure

A grey jaunty man with a child in hand charges out an elevator gate.

Sirens; a two-year-old yell vibrates windows, stings the old woman's ears.

Relentless, lung-burning cries.

Spoiled .. she mutters, backhands her palm, rolls her eyes, chuckling.

Her sons never screamed, they had manners. Never hit their own father, never.

Do not spare the rod.

Embarrassed, the man quickens pace to the exit, child on shoulder.

Young tears become crisp; mumbles build words of a mantra:

You 're not my dadtfy.

The G i rl on t h e Street

The girl on th e street does not know clear days li eve ning s and nights. s~ ~s . . 1 n the street does not have a diar y Th e g:tr o . . nor does she know her zodiac sign.

She stands on the corner or walks the street apart from the others. She has not learned to fit in. She does not smoke. She does not stalk patrons.

On rainy evenings when thunder strikes, she stands under canvas or zinc awnings. She waits, not talking to anyone, watching as others argue and quarrel.

She looks at our school uniforms with yearning disguised as disdain. Perhaps she wishes she could wear one, however briefly.

Perhaps she just wishes we would not see her too-tight short skirt revealing her womanly hips, shapely legs, her feet in ill-fitting high heels for th o se who desire her older.

Perhaps she just wishes we would not see her small halter top barely concealing her true age, ros e bud breasts-ghosts of interrupted childhood.

She does not flinch as she passes so mber bar s with their bamboo and wicker furniture that adve rti se Pret ty Waitress es Wanted.

The girl o n th e str ee t d oes not smile. The gi rl on the stre et d o es n o t kno w love .

Durdle Door

F lowers o

n the L oop

. m · someone 's old dream-come-true prom dress , someone's old hard Bloonung . ·earned new pair of shoes, and the remains of a trash bag, Lilly walks up and down the loop, and she never pauses.

Going about her daily routines of making her bed with the newspaper that was there the night before, where to find food, how to stay dry, and "Excuse me sir, do you have any change so I can catch the bus?" Lilly never pauses.

Here, her home, the loop, she grows, all the while knowing this is where she 'll die and all the while staying content with this life, always the passerby, an outsider, hidden behind their eyes, always looking never allowed to touch, and she never pauses.

Every day a flower vendor hipster stops to set up shop, Lilly sees his blooms like her inner tired old rooms, empty vehicles that she can drive to set up shop in her own life, she connects with them and they with her, "Are these mums? " she asks every day never pausmg.

"Get away from me you smelly old bitch! You are bad for business!" the hipster replies.

Looking both left and right, Lilly picks up her Wal*Mart plastic bags ~illed with_her possessions and, head held up, walks away behind the dumpster, kneeling, planting herself, she pauses and the flowers cry.

Paramedics

Obscenity. Morphine. Bloo d o n windows. Ribs, hinged shutters. Carefully cracked open, we see all sorts of landscapes: hand-carved craters, deep caverns, quaking ground, bullet geysers. Legs kick high and we dig deeper in dirty tubs for one more rubber stopper

Overhead

jet streams

cnss -cross, razors shoot straight at the evening sun. It sinks.

Loft banister. \X!atchtower rail. Wire guard capsizes ; failed. A toddler, a top-he a, ·y rag doll.

Egg head , fl at yolk, g r ea t

Leg bruis e, arm brace, d ee p red sru bssewn up by tall angels ,vith warm white glon::-

Elegy for My Dad

bitter, you and your beer alike. Beloveds, left to rot in your own decaying wort; failed self-dissuasion concerning your potential lethal toxicity. Intimate, alike, passionate collegiate lovers, soul mates, save a mortal, who dared to test your selfish union, brainwashed, placed aside with an altar vow. Double A nor Triple A could rescue your self-wrecked life, distilled to nothing but liver cavities, five ICU name bands, and an unmailed birthday card, five years past written. You and your beer alike, bring bitterness to my tongue as I taste the memories of times long gone. I will spit on father's day this year, and its mockery of you, who lost the war with your fatal obsession to your beloved.

Randall Hugg Is Dead

ld gh to need a coat for even the shortest trip outside 1

It was co enou . . k the counter coming in with grocenes. Sarah had gone 0 dropped my eys on d din . ut to ail h was still wearing her coat an stan g over the kitchen table ",;th cret them 's e d hif d wi 0 h hands I crossed the room an s te myself between chairs t envelopes m er · o stand facing her across the table.

"Good afternoon, Sarah," I said.

"Hey," she replied, looking up at me. Her eyes quickly dropped down to the stack of letters in her hands.

"You. Me. You. Me. Me. You. You. You," she said, dropping each one onto the table as she read. ''All bills. Well, mine are anyway. It's amazing. It takes fucking months to get a goddamn magazine forwarded, but your bills show up before you've unpacked your fucking toothbrush. We did get this, though." Sarah handed me a letter.

"Randall Hugg," she said.

"Hmm." I wasn't really paying attention. I'd dropped the letter as soon as she handed it to me.

"I do need to ask you something, Sarah."

''Yeah?" she asked not looking at me.

''.Do you really need all that closet space? I mean, you don't wear anything th a\ re~U1res hanging. Can't we put some of your father's clothes back in there? I don t like having them all boxed up like that."

Sarah sighed and said, "I guess, Mom. I just really wanted to have my own space. I hate feeling lik I' b d " " e m a oar er. I came back here for you. ur- Sarah you did k h e for yo If 1 ' not come back here for me. You came bac er , se · never asked O · Don t yo u bl hi Y u to come here. I never asked you to leave the city. ame t s on me y . . . d ily have ch ecked on . · our sisters live here m town. They coul eas me. Besides I · • ,,

"Y , ' am not incapable of weathering this. Ued ou re nof:i Oka 1 . " Sarah ro her eyes. · Y, et me Just go upstairs and pack then.

"D , ed for · . on t be ridicul " , be bla!1'1 11< ruinin g yo ur 11c y ous. iou re here now. I 1·ust don't want to ake yo ie ou' ·11 1 telY n1, o~ n deci sions. Well re st1 you~g enough to think you don't abso u ·o on tl1e kitchen tabl e st . . ' you do. I did not force this on you." I was 1ean1 g

"l k ann g straight at her. u· ,io~ h . now yo d'd f ,oLI , 1 ' ere al u I n't I' th ·dea o • ) t

•

· one with D · m sorry. We · 1ust didn't like e 1 ' • tfl,en to b out ad l th dp,1s i1, . e hard." She ' at east not for a few months. I mean, e ahild she cu stantly h never could l k a c J o s uffled h f 00 me in the eyes. When she was Afke ' 1 r er eet and dult t, stared down at them whenever any a

. of herself just as she was now, trying to h ld h unsure o erg her- d ther. round agai nst her . ba mo . . big, '" ' s of course, 1t 1s hard , but adJusting to havin re ' ' . g you back is h d all I'm saving. I m not as quamt as you think I am S h ar too. Th t's r ' ara Be s1d a nly a few months before you came back to to I , es, we had this house o . wn. t s not lik l h

f memories loaded up in it like the last house." e ave a lifetime o . . L ' .

"I never sa.td you were quaint. et s Just forget about it. Okay~"

"Okay," I said. ' 'What do you want for supper?" ·

"Mom you don 't need to cook for me. I was thinking b . ' a out going out " anvway ' · "Where? There are only two restaurants in town."

"I don't know where. Maybe I'll go to Benny's. I haven't be b k h en ac t ere " in a few years. .

" Well, if you go, bring me back some of that pie. That's the one thing 1 miss from working there."

J mostly saw Sarah in the mornings. I hid in my room through most of the nights, letting her have her run of the household. We had different habits, and her company often made me edgy. I didn't want to seem terribly uncool, so I let her do what she wanted. In the mornings, though, I came to the kitchen and always found her with coffee and a newspaper. Sometimes it was the city paper, and I wondered why she still bothered to read it knowing she wouldn't be returning anytime soon. Maybe she liked to torture herself with news she couldn't be a part of. Maybe she thought she'd better keep up on apartments if she ever intended to go back. Either way, it seemed needlessly cruel and likely to make her resent me even more than she already did.

In the city she'd had a crappy job with good pay and a crappy apartment with good parking. That's the best most people can do in the city these days. Sarah's daily life was a virtual mystery to me. I pictured her sitting in an armchair reading a book or holding a latte boarding a train. Neither image seemed quite right, but I persisted with them hoping her life was something close to what I saw on the television. I knew she had a lover. She brought him home for Christmas, but she didn't seem too attached. She left him sitting in the famil y room alone with her father. She did this with her high school boyfriends as well-always leavi ng men with her father. Perhaps she wanted them to know where sh e came from and ~hat she might be looking for; though, she always told me th at she would rather die than marry a man like her father. I think she would rather die than marr y at all. It seems most likely sh e just wanted to scare those boys off It's just as well. Thcr could neve h d · h h · r ave ma e her happy. I d on't think an yo n e could make Sara app ,. h Of course, she would say the sa m e about m e Sh e e ndl ess !\' rclls me hn\\' ard I am to pl Sh . ,, k " I , h ease. e says I wan t p erfect daughters . I alwa ys say () ' a~ · \\ ' icn s e tells me thi s b · 1· · 1·c J I 1 f, ' ut 10 rea 1ty, I h ave always thought th at I sc rtled in 1, c. Sdr n or a husband h d 'd ' I I w O 1 n t love me the way [ thought J sho uld he Jnv ecl. 1 se rr C(

for rwt, d .mghrers ,rho sertled fo r repeating mv mistake An c s. d n I serde fr"r .in unh.ipp~· ind perpetu ally single daughter wh ow Was go·.._ o resented ing to I resenred her. Ot course, u-e ne, -er tal ked about these thin rne as much - ch th drinkin . -- . gs. We sirn I as .1cro ss trom e1 o er - g co ttee and trymg to think of thin PYsat cu ss \,1thour arguing. gs We Could dis.

·Good m orning, Sarah," I said as I walked into the kit h-c en . I st d the S111.k loo king tor nw cotfee mug. Then I turned to Sarah d 00 over '- . an saw th h using it. probabl~- just to spite me. at s e Was

·•:_\foming, Mom. H ow's it going?" She didn't even b th o er to look from the paper. up

I r eached for her fa ther's cup and took it down from the shelf coffee into it. I crossed the room and sat down in front of Sarah. a nd P0 uted

··r see ~-ou 're reading a local paper today."

·'Yeah , I tho ught I could get some leads on a job. I don't know. Id , d · cl · " · on t "·mr ro o 1usr no ung.

··J think that's a lovely idea. \X/here are you going to apply?"

"W'ell, now, see, that's the trouble. There is not one fucking thing to do in this shithole town , so there are also no jobs. I thought there might be something at the bookstore, bur they don't need employees. It's so small that the owner is the o nl>· employee. "

'

'\\fell, you could go back to Benny's. They are always hiring. You liked it there, didn't you?"

''Mom , I am not so sure I want to carry on the family legacy at Benny's."

"Well, if there is nothing to be found, you have to do something with your time. You can't just sit around reading your old textbooks and those horrible novels from when you were a kid." .

" I know. I just don't think the service industry is for me. I mean, working ,:vith all those people makes me so uncomfortable."

" Sarah we don't get jobs because they make us feel good. We get tbem , vou don't have to be so darned attached to your because they make us money. 11 job."

''Jesus, Mom, I know. I am still not going there." . th ht I would . ' . l t ou I 1ust oug

"Well, like everything else, 1t s entire y up o Y · · ,,

She suggest it. d r her arm-

Sarah stood up at the table and crumpled th e paper un e walked over to the sink to dump her coffee out. d . around Jookl0f ir Th I going to r1ve ·· ·d1cJl (l<x

"I'm gonna go take a shower. en · am h the k1r . . . , " Sh walked throug for a Job-a Job o ther than fucking Benny s. e · and ran up the stairs to the extra bedroom. . ·d ~1id

I was right about Be nn y's. They took Sat a Jd n,e. \Y/e were e st1d1 b . h . ·I t Sarah to ewer e delighted to have her, or at least t at 1s w i a . because W ld S h that 1t was waitresses they'd ever had. I always to ara · '

b S sat . old os e'r . h back. Out th eb.

. . . 1 kn ew I co uld get any m an to give m e at least a 20 % tip. I coasted from t 1t f5., 1 ble ro r:1b le d oing wh at I did bes t. I pretended to be chee rful. I saw the sam e r~eo k C\-eryday. O ld women with their best friends ordered chicken sa lad on ra is in ~n~-~l They told sto ries abou_t their dead husbands and picked their foo d apa rt uk c d 16 ,,·ere feeding it to baby birds. It drove me crazy The y were the mornin g · ·d ,u 1d I saw th em as a reminder of what I might one day become. Maybe cro" · ·

1 t·, whr I have n't been able to see any of my old friends since Sarah's fath er r 1.1 • . ·c:•d \ t aiw rate, I co uldn't wait for the old ladies to leave. They were fo llowed p:l~~ . ·• br inili tary personnel doing their best to escape the confines of the nearb y air force b~1se. ~ either of these two crowds tipped very well.

T11e third gro up wasn't ve r y generous either. These were the so-called "lower class." Th ey weren't actually as bad off as their title makes them seem. Ther generally stayed in the assisted living complex in the historic part of town, bu t boredom made them nomadic. They wandered through all parts of town, and Benny's ,·ms o n the list. It was that or nasty pancakes from that restaurant on Fourth Street. Peo ple always said they were poor, but they were judging b y appearu1Ces. And b eing crazy didn't exactly allow for the greatest hygiene. It didn't matter ho,,· much money they actually had because the waitresses didn't get an y of it.

The real money came in on Saturdays and Sundays. Sometimes after Church the tips were better. People were more generous after being filled with the spirit. Of course, they had to attach some of their annoying dogma to it. They'd " ·alk out the door yelling, " God bless you!" and "God be with you!" It made me uncomfortable to hear words like that come out of people who so clearly did not understand the meaning of them.

fa·ery other weekend was a flea market. Carlyle was the county seat, and the flea market was held at the fairgrounds in town. That was the best money of all Benny's was only three blocks from the fairgrounds. People came from surrounding towns on flea market weekends. Some even came from the city that was a little more than an hour away They really knew how to tip. They weren't as irritating either. They never treated me like the bartender at some seedy pub.

These people were there everyday, and so was Sarah. She worked twelveho ur shifts five days a week. It wasn't the kind of place to offer overtime, so I suppose she jus t needed to stay out of the house. I felt like I was the mother of a teenage r again. My daughter was hiding from me; only this time she could say she needed the m oney Sarah had been gone for a few years, and people needed something to talk abo ut. I had been the object of their gossip for a while, but now that Sarah was back, she was the new rumor. I couldn't tell which stories were true and whi ch ones we re false. It didn't really matter. In a small town people would b elieve the m an yway

By the time Sarah came home from work, I was usuall y asl ee p. She didn 't get off until nine, and I rarely made it past eight-thirty on any given da y. If I was a\,·ake when she go t home, sh e rushed into the hous e quietly and found her way to th e extra bedroom trying to go unn oticed. I'd be sitting in the living roo m in a

. h nd du ster tr)ring to convince myself to fall :isleep rug tgown a ·

Sarah an d I saw ea ch other so little that it might have bee . uld n sn1:1rrein the ci ty I had no ide a how she co be helping me ad · r tor he . to stay · . )Ust when h 1 never around. Over time , o~ morrungs to?ether b ecame silent as Well. \\ ,s e \\':ts

O ss from each other fidget1ng madly until Sarah got up and left th h e s:i t acr . e ou.._

r k Then I was alone all day until I fell asleep and Sarah fin n11 • • e t c, go to wo . 4ll ~ ca.i11e thr o 'the front door. llgh

I hadn't left the house in nearly three weeks ,vhen I finallv decid d l , 1 k ed to ) to Benny's for lunch. I showere ate even o c oc -, and I dr ove my tl . go 111 . . car 1e six blocks to the restaurant. Sarah had been walking to and from wor k all . · I uld h Winter Sh hadn't even asked to borrow m y car. wo ave let her, but she hated t .· t' a11 Wh I . d eelin1~ indebted to anyone-espec1 y me. en arnve at the restaurant S h e:. , ara was smiling her fake waitress smile to a couple of older men who didn' t seen · 1 to reall\' understand what she was asking them. They just smiled and looked at her ch · . d ,v, al thin lik th est . I know she notice . women ways nonce gs e at.

I walked past the counter and seated m yself in her section. Yo u weren't supposed to do that, but I knew I could get away with it. It took Sarah nearly twenty minutes to get to my table. The restaurant wasn't bus y, but she kn ew she could wait to come take my order. I sat brushing crumbs off th e tabl e until she whirled around to greet me.

"Hi, Mom. What're you doing here?" she asked.

"I thought it was about time I left the house. I spend too mu ch time alone in that house. I got up early and started to go through yo ur father's thin gs. I have a box in the trunk of my car, and I am going to take it to Goodwill later. I might run to the grocery store, too," I said.

"Wow. That's more than you've done in a long time ."

"Now, it isn't that much more. I have been buying groceries throughout this whole ordeal."

"No. I know. I just meant the clothes, really. It's a big deal. I am happ~· that you have decided to get some of his things out of the hous e."

''Yes, well, you wanted the closet space, and it really is about time. 1 sup· pose I should thank you for pushing me along." I wished I could take it back a~ soon as I said it. She was going to think I was hateful. . ;\no

''You don't have to get bitchy, Mom. I just said it was a good ,de:i . that is not why I asked for the closet space." . . . ,c (o r

"I k I' . . b I , ppose tt t~ ttn now. m sorry. It JUSt makes me anx10us , ut su · on· m t h ddi hin . " I still bru~h1nµ n e o start s e ng t gs from this old life of mm e. was . .. , I. I 1 •IS \\ ,\ . bl or1- ,existent crumbs off the table. She was looking down at the ta ec . •onic -

"I · •th - fricncb nt Just wonder if you shouldn't start going out w1 yo lll )'oil tll·,•t'r thing. I mean, you're always alo ne. You're always in yo ur b edroom. come out. That can't be h ealthy." , t\ncl

"S h I · f h 1e c()nip nt1) • · ara , stay m my b edro om because you o ten :n , _,w;c h:1, 1 wo , en vo ut ', men my age do not have friends-not in the way that won ·

fnends. \X- e ha,·e peo ple wh o see us and occasionally have lunch with us but none ll kn " of them rea y ows us.

":\1om , chat's n o t rrue. You have friends ."

" '\" o I d o n'L" - '

" \Xna t ab o ut the people you worked with here?"

' 'You mean the ones who are staring at us and talking right now?" I pointed w the wo men at the counter. Sarah turned and saw them just as they ru rned away.

" I t's a small town, Sarah. The y have been talking since the day I quit. In fa ct, they were probab ly talking before that-when your father died." I looked up at her and she again looked down at the table. She couldn't stand to see me so pathetic. Of course that was her interpretation; to me, it just seemed true.

' 'And now the y're talking about me."

" Well, yes, probably about the fact that you are here and that I needed one of my daughters to come home and take care of me." Sarah shook her head and turned back to face me.

"All right, Mo m. What'll you have today?"

"Oh .. . I don't think I will stay. It's strange to have them watch me like that."

''Yo u should stay. Stay, Mom. Don't let them scare you off. Besides, the y'll talk even more if you leave, won't they?"

" I suppose you're right. I think I'll just have some soup then and get out of here quickl y."

"O kay. I'll bring it out as fast as I can." Sarah turned toward the kitchen and looked at the women at the counter. She was eyeing them-making them feel like the annoying busybodies they were.

And she was right. They would talk more if I left. It felt somehow braver for me to sit and eat a bowl of soup in the presence of women who judged me than it did to remove myself from the situation. I had never been brave as a girl, and now seemed like the perfect time to start up. I had years of being a widow ahead o f me. I'd better learn to take a little scrutiny mixed in with the pity.

I waited for my soup and ate it in silence. Sarah knew I wouldn't want her to stay with me. She went about her business and cleaned up table after table. I ate slowly and waited for her section to clear before I left. The restaurant always cl.eared out after lunch, and Sarah had the busiest section, which meant her tables turned guickly. Her section was also the first to clear up. When she finished , she saw me waiting and came and sat at my table.

"What are yo u still doing here?" she asked.

" I wanted to ask you if yo u could be home earlier tonight. I wa nt to talk to yo u."

. "Well, I wiJJ see if I can come ho me ea rl y. Maybe I can get home arou nd SIX" Sh · · e stood and then walked into the kitchen.

home at si..-..;:. She did not come home until 1

- al did not come ater · ::,ar 1 li room watching bad TV most of the night A Lnto

· h I sat 111 the ving . • th li · · t elev rhc mg c. I .t d in the ch air m e Villg room. I sat there . en l a ff but Wal e ' llntil S \Cl~ dozmo O ' . th mor ning She was n t alone. A man at least t arah

h at one 111 e en Year h c:une ome th b ack stairs to her bedroom. Sarah did not s er . t !lowed her up e see rne in seruor O h I s sleeping. Surel y, she would n o t have wanted m the

. She th oug t wa e to see chair. uld t have wanted m e t o si t through the sounds of her with thi chis. She wo no s man. th h,., ;.. in the living room , I could h ea r everything Sarah was d . In e c ALJ. • oing in

b I could hear h er and her lover g run tin g in the d ark. I could h rhe room a ove. . ear

. 1 h d always known m y daughter felt . I w a s a fraid to m ove I th rhe things a . . · ought

h

• would make her realize I was within earshot. I wai t ed I fell 1 eno ug n01se . as eep aaain in the chair in the livmg room.

0 I woke up when I heard voices in th e hall. Sarah was kicking him ou t. Sh was telling him she had to work-a lie. He was walking o ut th e fr o nt d oo r at an e earh- ho ur. He was asking for her number. I wondered if she even kn ew his name She. told him to go Through all his pathetic pleading, she w as fo rcing him o ut the· doo r. Once he was out the door, I could hear Sarah get her coffee. Now, I knew why she was always up earlier than me.

She sat down on the couch with her father's mug in hand. I looked over at her, and she finally realized I was there.

"Jesus! Mom! How long have you been there?" she asked.

" Since about six last night. Did you forget you said you were coming home?''

" Shit. I'm sorr y." Sarah looked up at me for once, and co uld see the knowledge o n m y face . I knew what she'd done, and she was shamed enough to look away Maybe it was these moments that made her so inc apable o f making eye contact.

"Did you get the mail yesterday?" she asked.

"N o. I guess I could get it now."

"No. Don't. Sit down. I'll go get it." Sarah stood up eager to escape rne She pulled her coat on before she ran out the door. A couple minutes later she returned with o nl y one envelope in her hands.

" Randall Hugg," she said .

"Again?"

" Ye p." She handed me the envelope and sat down at the table. pie 1-: f picked it up and h eld it in m y hands for a minute. " Don't th es e peo .nfJw y<JU r fat her is d ead ?"

I pulled off the highway to follow a yelping man to the edge of the forest, where he pointed to a dying leaf, weeping.

Nature was dismissed in his perspective: candy was the true cause. Those factories upstream rotted our city's mouth using sugar, consuming water as we go to the dentist.

An anecdote he offered: the traffic helicopter showed me at a rest stop vending machine buying dark chocolatetearing the wrapper with my hungry jaws, spitting the tiny pieces in a colorful garbage bin that happened to be autumn.

I drove off inspecting my gums.

A t work I pulled at the sleeve o f a congressman's secretary th ro ugh an email. In res po ns e to forwards abo ut reli gio us fre edom, I o utlined m y latest plan fo r Africa 's eco no m y. T h e textboo k said m ore sales and b e tter wage s might h elp,

but ii- was an old cdirion .

J sta red at in fo rm ati<>n 's fa c<.: all day, sea rchin g fo r fi sca l poljcy in rigid porce lain tee th co nd escendin g to a stretched smil e of Tim es New Ro man cl ay.

By vo icc mail in rea

l-tim e T

purchase d

a new sedan fr om a man with no bac kg ro und , to be delivered next wee k.

Afte r ho urs Tg riped at the stee rin g wheel, passed sirens and neo n, and shouted at liars on a radi o dial.

I was nea rl y aslee p on the co uch that ni ght: a well -groom ed ancho r ta lk ed abo ut a man's body preserve d in a gla ss coffin fo r over three decades. He had th e eyes of a goldfish and a wo rld to wave at through electrical currents.

My Inability to Be a C -=----oat Rack

A lack of space is empty. I'm gone, but you didn't see it happen. You lived around me,

Dropping your keys in my hand As you passed through the door, Uninterested in the second

Glass on the table, The toothbrush proudly displayed Next to yours in the bathroom.

You even made love by yourself. Certain in your successes Without a glance

Into the wet-eyed countenance beneath you. But that is the way you live, And however I tried

To come alive around you, To turn a chair, or move a glass, It didn't settle right with you.

My tn () m d rops me off at Co rd o n's ea rl y Frid ay mo rnin g. Mos t o f th e (>tiler kid s ·arc alrea dy th c.: rc. G ord o n is turnin g th e Li ghts off in his ho use. He luob lik e :1 µiant in th ere When he steps o utside, he loo ks more Like th e clown that li e is. l lis tenni s sh oes arc as lo ng as my fo rea rm, and th ey make a stupid so und when rhc.: y slap aga inst th e co ncrete . O nly hi s id eas are bigger and dumber rh an hi s shoe s.

So mehow he co nvin ced o ur parents to let him tak e us to a baseball tournain cnt in Penn sy lva ni a. We Li ve in Kansa s. We're no goo d at baseball. We didn't win one ga me all seaso n T he two runs we did score were accidents. When we as kc.:d our parents to ex pl ain to us wh y we had to go, they said something about '\.: xpL:ri ence' ' and ''chara cter. ' ' Th at's crap. I think the real reason that we 're going is beca use Go rd o n does n't have anything else to do the rest of the summer. He 's a PE reach er at a nea rb y Chri stian school. All of us go to public schools

As we wait fo r the res t of th e tea m to arrive, Matt and Sammy take turns pec king in th e passe nge r wind ow o f Go rdon 's van, tapping the glass and laughing. Dan is as lee p in side th e va n. His right cheek and his nose are smashed up against th e pa sse nge r wind ow and make mark s that a dog's nose would. He looks like he 's as kin g him self qu es ti o ns, like he's wo rri ed. He's sort of a friend of Gordon's, and co mes to all o f our ga mes. Gord on call s him the assistant coach. We don 't.

Th ere's no t much in Mis so uri . In th e dark the trees look like the mess y cedars and oa ks th at Mr. Voil a, our art teacher, draws with his thick black pencils at sch oo l. The hills climb up, away fr o m th e highway. Some stop when they run into th e hori zo n. O th ers pea k and slide down before the y reach the horizon. I can't see wh ere th ey dro p off, so I sit up as hi gh as I can and lean into th e window to get a better view. It bo th ers me that I can't see wh ere th ey go. I feel like I don 't know mu ch and I sit back down .

l can't slee p, so I watch Gord o n driv e. I can see his hands and most of his fa ce The light fr om th e dashb oard mak es him glow green. He looks like a zombi e. It's qui et and dar k, ye t Go rd o n acts ner vous. He jerks the wheel back and fo rth real fas t, but th e va n does n't move because of it. I wonder why he would move the wh eel. He's like th at. He doe s things that don't matter. Like the talk that he gives to us befo re we pl ay. It neve r wo rks , but he gives it anyway

May be he moves th e wh eel because he's scared. I would be to~, taking a bunch of kid s halfway acro ss th e countr y. But it's his idea. H e's the one wh o bo ught th e boxes o f cand y bars fo r us to sell-th e ones wi th th e paper-thin foil around th em. l would neve r ea t one of th ose cand y bars on acco unt of th at fo il al one. l r's just lik e Gordo n is, that fo il-prete ndin g to be something it isn't. I

rh e o nly thing worse than being a loser is being unable to a~-. mean_ . b '-lllUt yo , I alwa\·s got mad wh enever someone ought a candy ba f u re on . r rorn rn e, lf because I failed to deliver the speech that I had practiced all th e. ~ad mL e . . e w at ch. doo r. The speech that went something like this: " Hi. We suck ay up to e . 0 h at baseb U d 't e,·en want to go on this tnp. ur coac 1s a loser, and there a . o n are much e cand\- bars at the gas station down the street. Please don't buy one fr better . .d "2 50 . " om rne ,, B I jusr held out my hand and sa.1 , . a piece. · ut

Illinois is one flat field of corn and beans with farms on it h . ere and th and thin gray streets that stop at small islands of woods. And some . ere, . gas stations roo. Some of the gas stations have restaurants attached, where once 111 · .d · ' filew have to cross through a forest of bumper stickers and baseball hats abo ' . e Ut pissed. off wives and horn y husbands, past rows and rows of Elvis crap and pla 0. J s c esus dolls, past heavy racks of candy we don't get in Kansas, and finall y, past the rough tru ck drivers who watch us cut a path through the smells of bacon and cigar t . e tes as we jog down the hall mto the restrooms. The restrooms have showers in them. We take turns peeing and pretending to sing along with the country music that falls out of the tall ceiling where the tiles are missing. It's the same country music that Gordon skips past when we drive. He usually listens to religious stations.

Most of the cars pass us7 but we pass most of the trucks. Some of the trucks pull trailers with slotted metal sides. All we can see are legs shifting about. The only way to tell what types of animals are in the trailers is by the way they smell. The drivers that pull the pigs are the friendliest: they honk their horns when they see us pumping our arms up and down pretending to honk our own horns. We laugh when we pass ahead of them, until someone starts laughing louder than everyone else. Then we stop. We sit quietly and look straight ahead as the sun pulls our eyelids down the way shades darken a room.

The others fall asleep. I can't. I feel like I am on a ride in an amusement park. A ride that never stops. The only thing I hate worse than feeling sick like this is forgetting that the back seat always makes me nauseous. Watching the . nl thi I know stnpes on the road and counting to seven between breaths 1s the o Y ng of that makes it a little better.

Indiana is clean. The trash is all picked up and the bushes around th e hi h . 1 The van 1s

g way are cut into perfect shapes. Even the concrete looks c ean. d h h the du st) irty t ough. I have to squint because the sunlight that comes throug nd · d · , d bobs up a wm ows is so harsh. The glare makes my head ache. Gordon s hea d hair d h . . h d feathere own w enever the preacher on the radio says "truth." His lig t re - hire flj . eaM.' w es up d fl c · k bis sw ' ci · . an oats 1or a moment before it falls back and stlc s to d ·ffecr 111: f H J th ou1 a

ace. e ooks funny. I don't laugh because I'm not sure how at w sto mach . hi~ to raise

. Go rd0 n stops bobbing his head whenever the preach er begins rs for ll voice H · h' . • J-Ie shou . · . e raises is v01.ce louder and louder until he is shouting. . Jr's the little bit and th b · hear httn• en ecomes so quiet that you have to lean in to type of station I l h . . . a ways c ange. But Gordon 1s mto 1t.

I grow bored with the preacher and look outside to watch the stripes on d The sun shines so brightly off the corn that I have to close my eyes the roa • . · ''What is a State?" I begm to wonder. Then my mouth starts to water and I return tUlg-five six, seven, between breaths. As I count my eyes still closed an to coun ' . ' , . e floats through my mmd. imag di lkin

A preacher 1s stan ng on a tractor ta g to some farmers in a field. Suddenly, the preacher starts shouting. The farmers throw their tools down and stop working. They are mad. Then they all start laughing at the preacher because he is trying to stop the tractor he's standing on. The tractor is alive and headed for a lake. He doesn't know it's alive. The farmers do. That's what's funny. I laugh when the preacher's head finally goes under the water. My laugh wakes many of my teammates. It doesn't matter though, as we're about to stop for gas and snacks anyway.

Ohio has a lot of long, smooth hills. The sun is beginning to fall toward the western horizon, but the van is still hot and stuffy inside. We open some windows to let cooler air in. The fresh air helps my stomach some, but the apple juice I'd bought when we stopped helps it more. The donuts, sodas, and Jolly Ranchers that the others had makes them talk louder and faster. They start pushing each other around. Matt punches Lance. Lance pushes him into Eric. Eric doesn't know who hit him, so he grabs the closest person, Sammy, and shoves him in the chest. Sammy lands on Tony.

I sit back with the other sixth graders and watch for anyone breaking the rules of the every-man-for-himself fake fight. We wouldn't say anything if one of the seventh graders did break the rules. We watch mostly because it's fun to see how the different people act in the fight. Sammy and Matt are hilarious. They make faces and add sound effects to their punches. Lance and Rodger are cautious. These fights also show us who not to trust. Never trust a person who doesn't follow rules when there is no umpire looking. They are the types who wo n't fess up when they are called out on the cheap-shots they threw. And never trust those who can't admit when they've lost; they keep fighting even after their opponent has let them go. You either know the rules of the fake fight or you don't. These rules don't allow punches to the back. The kind which Tony just took from Rodger.

"Cheap shot," Tony grunts a challenge, a threat. His eyes water but h e won't cry No one's clo se enough to be obviously guilty, but Tim can't hold back a laugh . Tony grabs him and hurls him forward. Tim stops when h e lands .in the back of the front pass enger seat. The chair shakes.

Dan's eyes open with caution o r with pa.in. He Jooks at Gordon, and afte r a silence:,mumbles. "Gotta piss dude."

Oh yeah?" Gordon says kind of loud

Dan looks away. "Yeah."

"We'll be stopping for dinn er in an hour or so."

"GOtta piss now dude."

G o rd o n star ts jerking th e w h eel faster.

I t isn't uncomm o n fo r th em to argue. D an is m arried to G b li ·th h Ordo ' D bbi or won't m arry her ut v es W1 er an yway- we only b. n s sist e ' get its a d tr, Mo st of what we know co mes from heanng o u r parents talk wh h n piece en t ey d s. home after our games. What we learn from o ur parents usuall y find , rive us · th ,v, d , s tts \Va , . ur conversations durmg e next game. we on t really care abo . i tntu o . ut tt- \Vh o married to who. Not as much as our paren t s do. They sign us up£ is d d , or sports . have people to talk about. Gor on oesn t care about the parents' . )U st to gossip e1the He looks over at Dan. r

"Do you know what you did last night? "

Dan doesn't answer. He looks out the window when Gordon ll h. ' . ca s an a slob. My eyes follow Dans. The sky, which had started changing colors in Oh· continues to change as we drive into Pennsylvania. It take s so long for one 1 10 ' co or to change into another that I can't actually see the changes. All I see are completed colors-orange, pink, violet, and many others in between-splashed wildlyover the western sky, as if God were an artist trying to make the day a little more beautiful. Not correct.

There's a chicken in Pennsylvania. Every minute or so it flaps its wings like it's going to fly away. It's attached to a metal pole though. The other players are beginning to wake up. They see the chicken lit up in the dark sky and start bothering Gordon: "We gonna eat there?" "Can we eat there?"

''Yeah. We're gonna eat there " With that settled, the seventh graders begin to argue over who saw the chicken first. No one can make a good argument, so they drop it just long enough to come up with a new contest-who's going to eat the biggest chicken.

"Hell dude, I'm gonna eat the biggest bird they got in that place. :he~ nd probably only started cooking it yesterday or something. Say, you guys do~ t nu1.: . b k . . d -;>" S mmy sucks ws carry1ng me ac to my bed when I'm firushed eating, o you a , stomach out and turns toward the front of the van. " Coach. Oh, coach. 1 m unt f d I ' . . w on acco a rat. cant whip the state of Pennsylvania's ass m baseball tomorro of my being so full of chicken." , bt1t . . , that fonn),

"Of chicken shit," says Tony, and we laugh, not because its because we need to get out of this van. bia E · h chickens " ,,11 nc trumps Sammy. "Dude this place don't even ave suck ct enough for G , . ' . f p in a roW- me. uess I ll Just have to line a bunch o yours u down without even chewing. That's how hungry I am. " brag :ibotil

"W, ll k have to . e a now you love to suck cocks E ric but d o yo u ' _ it all the tim -;>" M , ' iiutl) · e. att asks everyone.

1 t ta es a seco nd for the m eaning to hit. Then w e sta t · ' ", e~unl f l' L

11-11 g, ca t1 _ I k ·tl aug 1 t •t '

Yat fir st looki - b ut the n ' ng up to see wh eth er or n o t Gord o n cares a O , n pt:i:~ 0

ence He doe ' w , h th ere ,~ ' b hind sn t. we laugh harder and lo uder reli eve d t at · •t'

e th d ' , ,, e a ult.

, r\lf'l'l Th I , ,vn ,

e hotel is less than an hour fr o m the re staurant. On t 1 t: .

sto p to get g as and some other things Dan's th e last o n e in . T ha t lm Jwn pap er bag f ull of beer slowed him d own. When we 're o n the highway again , up 1, J n <Jrmal speed , h e turn s the d o m e light o n and looks back at us.

" You guys g onna win this weekend ?" He reache s in th t bag fo r a l<Jttc: ry ticket. ''You should win at least o nc e. Statisti cally speaking."

Dan usuall y talks funn y. H e at tend s the local co mmuni ty c,J ll ege, "Whe re the losers go," he says. N ot the real college wh e re you live away fr o m ho me and study all the time. He onl y studi es when h e feels like it. He's told us man y time s what he studies, but it never made much se n se to us. "PoJjtics," he calJed it. Or was it "social science"? He looks back at us ag ain .

"If you don't win once this we e kend, yo u'll rem ain a statistical an o mal y."

He grabs another ticket .

We're not scared of that-anomal y. Whatever it m ean s. We've bee n caUed worse. Even our parents have called us worse than that. So m e o f th em drink at our games. Then they talk real loud. "Fuckin' los ers," To n y's dad migh t say aro un d the fifth inning on a hot day. He had offers to play ball in coll ege but had to figh t a war. That's what m y parents said driving home from a game o n e night. To ny's dad expected more from his kid. So did Sammy's dad. All the dad s seem ed to agree that when it came to little league baseball, the Weasels were " a bunch o f god damn sissies." Or "pansies." Or something like that which slipped out when the dads weren't arguing with Dan or the umpires.

Our parents always argue with Dan during our games. A fter Dan starts an argument, Gordon would try to end it. He'd yell at Dan from the third base line, telling him to leave our parents alone and do something useful, like help coach us. Dan would come over to the dugout after that and pick up with us where he 'd left off with our parents.

"The truth is," he'd say at some point talking to us, "th.at the truth pisses your parents of£" He would assure us that there wasn't an ything personal about this, the truth. That he still liked us and all, even though our parents couldn't accept the basic facts of life: that the Soviet Union wasn't an example of communism, that sitcoms are more meaningful than modern political discourse, and that love was just a mean joke some jealous girl invented long ago.

We don't care what Dan believes. We only pretend to care because h e gives us money for the concessions stand. Dan is a smart guy. He should kn ow better than to talk to us about love and politics. He should know that a lovesi ck boy isn't going to dump his girlfriend just because of what he says. H e should know that we don't care why he dislikes the government. We just learn ed ab o ut the syStem of checks and balances ourselves. It seems like a p erfect id ea to us .

«w, Many times we've told him while sitting in th e dugou t during a rain delay, we love America."

"That might go away," he'd say. "W hen it d oes, co me talk to me. I have some books you'll be interested in."

We wouldn't know how to respond to th at. So we 'd just look ou t at the

The ~un e w-a~ _ , D an scratches his last n cket and plac . . a rll.fl • el . no t tar '.l \Y,1\. es l t 111,, -r.: Th e ho t is 1 · ber:o re he rums the dome light off 0 ne ror--~ •-"" . r os ers- 11 • or· f"-O piles \\l1lfl e.!5 0 "e drin'. ro McKinney Park whi ch rakes less th

Th est ro ornlllc full th dif an an e n _ i. h el The parking lo t 1s W1 f erent types f tro m we ot . . o Vehi ho ur to get co . und fo r a place to par~ like sharks lookino for r: d rill circling aro . o 100 cle s, some 5 k, Gordon goes to talk with the other coaches. Tony ·

-\ tter we par th H k Th . - opens

· d ea team walk p ast- e aw s. ey look unpor t de door an we se . . . ant. the s1 - .L,; ,. plarers ' leather bags, wi th their name m cursive on the side, pr b Just one ot w~ . - th Th _, b. o a.i. all of our urutorms put toge er. e y re 1gger than an , . blr coses more wan ot 0 ~ older brothers .

"Seve nth graders my ass," says Trm.

"They got beards." Matt adds.

''N o shit," Sammy says. " I've barely got eyebrows." \V/e chuckle

Gordon returns from talking with the coaches and informs us that we will play the Hawks first round.

''And the last round, for us," Eric says.

Everyone chuckles except Tony. He asks Gordon, ''Why did you bring us all the way up here just to lose one more game and then go home? We could've asked a team in Kansas to beat us one more time if that's all you wanted."

Gordon doesn't respond. He starts right into the speech that he gives before every game.

''We're playing a tough team. So what? You can do anything you believe yo u can do. You've just got to relax and have fun. Play your best and, most importantly, believe in yourselves."

, The Hawks are already on the field: playing catch, running, stretching. . We re entranced by their seriousness. And by how far they can spit. They are bigger and more organized than any team in Kansas . Tim looks away from the field and questions Gordon.

"Wi uldn' · b · b team like 0 t 1t e stupid for us to believe that we can actually eat a that? Would ' h b . . . . 1 s up for . . n t t at e like believing in the impossible and settmg ourse ve di sappointment?" t

"B d n't yo u,

ut it is possible that we might win. You believe that at lea st , 0 We don't respond

"Wi ll . . th . k that it's eve n p e 6 ' 1 1f you don't believe that you can win if you really don't 10 oss1 e th ' . " .

He k' . en you won't win. That's just the way things are. d fo:ed torma es it sou d lik d . ble an ever. The n e some type of rule or law, un eni a way he talks . . · d ·

"Wh . gets me thinking. I say what's on my min · t son1c at if we th· k d abo ll , st upid gam e~ Wh . ln we can win, but don't really give a amn , rer raktn~ th fi . at if w b li ·thout e, 1' e ield ? Th . · e e eve we can win but drive hom e wi ,0 u on) Wa en we can b li Or do ) ) '011 nt us to beli . e eve in ourselves on the w ay home. . . ,ks? bro h eve ln ours l . b th e }-ht'' ·r nll ug t us here £ eves while we're getting spanked Y O rake 1 or no teas " A . I want t on. s soon as I stop speaking

Gordon probab ly has his reasons for bringing us all the way up here to lose one last game this season. But we don't know what his reasons are.

"Don't you guys even want to win?" Gordon asks. " Don't yo u care at

We don't care. Not about winning. But nobod y wants to tell that to Gordon. We hadn't cared all season. Why should we start now? We just don't see the point in wanting the impossible, or in believing the unlikely. We want what is within our reach. We want to do things on Saturdays that we aren't forced to do. We want to drive home.

As I walk up to bat in the second inning, I'm still thinking about all the stuff Gordon had said. When a seventy-five mile an hour fastball lands in the catcher's mitt, I decide that Tim was correct: believing that we could possibly beat the Hawks is stupid. But when the fourth inning is over, and the Hawks are only ahead by one run, I start thinking that we might not get beat too badly. That doesn't mean I actually want to win, however: believing and wanting are different things. Later, in the sixth inning, I discover that Tony is thinking about the same stuff that I am. He's warming up on the on-deck circle. I'm in the dugout. I ask him a question.

"Do you think Gordon believes all that stuff about how you have to believe in yourself in order to win? Or do you think he just gives us the same speech because he doesn't know what else to say?"

Tony likes being the biggest kid on the team. He tries to hide it, but he also likes being the hero. Only he isn't one. Sometimes he forgets that he sucks at batting and overreacts when he strikes out. We clear the dugout if we notice his face turning red. Fallen heroes are dangerous. More so if they were heroes only in th eir own minds. Tony doesn't respond to my question. But I keep talking.

"If he didn't believe what he says, then he'd probably say different things each time. But he doesn't. And what he says is pretty much the same thing any coach says before a game, whether the team sucks or not. The Hawks will get the same speech we get. And they're going to beat us anyway. So even if Gordon believes in his speech, why would he bother to say it?"

"I think that he just wants us to believe that we could win. That's all."

"Do you believe we're gonna win?"

Tony isn't listening to me anymore. He will bat as soon as Rodger gets Then there will be two outs, and it will be our last chance to tie or win the ~ame. He's so busy being the hero in his head that he doesn't even hear D an patting the chain-linked fence behind him.

"Tony." Dan slaps harder. Either Mcl<inney Park's concessions stand sells be~r in the morning or Dan found his way to a nearby gas station after we'd arrived. He's got his scorecards out. "You gonna get a hit T0i1y?"

"Probably not, considering I haven't had one in the last five games ."

"Last eight games." Dan corrects him, shuffling through the cards for

He kee p s tra c k o f ev e r ything t h at h a pp e n s a t o u r g a m es and sc o recard s to ea ch gam e. So m e of th e ca r ds ar e less accu rate th ' carri es aU fi . . W h h d . an o the b tht he rarely makes it b y th e irs t rnrung en e oes arri ve he rs eca .. . . . , starts na -.se Gordon for th e in fo rmatJ o n h e m1 sse d . G ordo n 1s al wa ys too b gg.i ng d Wh h d ' usy coach_j stop and tell Dan what h e m1 s se . e n e oes n t coope rate D ng to . ' an nags h Gordon yells at him to d o som e thing u seful , li ke h el p co ach T h ard er · ey go back · forth throughout m o st of th e ga m e an d

When th e gam e is ove r, and eve r yo n e h as clea r ed th e ballp k . . U,ili ~ h out in the parking lot and talk about D e bbi. They dnnk a few beers. G ang D · d Wh h ' ord on t · to remember what an m1sse at e cant rememb er, h e makes u A nes hi hi d h , l p. t le as t then Dan has somet ng to put on s car s- e can t eave them inc om 1 won't nag Gordon today though. He's seen the entire gam e. He 's J ust 1 Pt/te. Dan e ung Ton know that he has good reason to be hopeful. Y

''You haven't gotten a hit in the last eight games. You're due for somethin today. It's a matter of chance." Dan looks back at an old man sitting in the bleach~ ers. "Besides Tony, I put a little something on you."

As Tony rounds third base and trots toward home plate, I start thinking about what we should tell the Hawks. We didn't get luck y To be lucky you have to try. We weren't really trying. Tony swings the same way he always does, his eyes nowhere near the ball. Dan would say that chance allowed Tony to get a hit, a hit that cleared the right-field fence-a homerun. But we had lots of chances before Tony's last turn at bat. We were all due for something big this game, if that means we sucked at hitting all season. This is what I plan to tell the Hawks when we pass them in line to shake hands.

I'll say: "Chance includes some risk, a decision. But we didn't risk anything or make any choices. Your pitcher didn't decide to walk Tim. But he did . Tony. swung because that's what you do when you're up to bat. His bat happened to hit the ball. We didn't put the right-field fence where it is. And we didn't ask your d . h .d t To regar p1tc er to throw a fastball. No. Our winning was more like an acct en· ,, . D 't blame us. Jt as anything other than an accident would be to make a mistake. on d "Goo But the Hawks aren't blaming anyone. They just shake our hands and say, g am e, good game, good game." 0 n.

A k d roll staO s we wait for our next game Gordon finds a good roe an . ' ff th at Dan e SJt o n th e concrete outside the van eating the hot dogs and ta Y ere b h . h h' . d th e concr oug t wit · is winnings from the old man. The sun is overhea ' e hai r on h:J t, ancl th e bees kee p poking at o ur sodas. Dan takes his shirt off. Th h ro sh0' " hi s ches t loo ks ju st lik e th e ha ir o n hi s h ea d-d ark , curl y, and thin enougd ab otit the fl abb · k. . . h garhe re

Y m o i st s in und e rn ea th. He's t elling u s stat1s t1 cs h e as ou r n ex t· game. belie',e

"O n

If yo u can re th, ,, , p ap e r, th e Foxes ar e act uall y wo r se than yo u g uys . ,thi ng n10 at. We re to b b li eve an) th h · 0 usy s tretchin g taffy and swat t ing b ees to e an t at Penn s l · · •

Y vani a 1s a n alri g h t place. D an kee p s t al kin g.

''

The Foxes are from Arkansas. They were supp d ose to pla th 0 1.; but the Eagles never showed. Their coach told h Y e Eagles f t1l 1uO, me e wa ro beat the Hawks because the y are the best team in the surprised that wde y runs against them." area. His team hasn't core an 5 judging by the way they throw the ball during warm- h f . ups, t e Foxes don't lik the y could stop any team rom scoring. They look thin d . look e . ' an slow; like the

't eaten well for a long ttme. They don t even look like the Id h Y haven . Y cou old bats nough to swmg. Not only are they scrawny; but they've got th long e . ' ese goofy locks of hair that poke out o~ their hats and hang down their backs like tails. They've folded the brims on their hats w~y ~oo m~ch, and they pull them down too far. All we can see of their faces are their tiny chins and their ears, which poke out from the sides of the unwashed hats.

Their appearance changes us. Sammy is whooping during warm-ups. Matt and Rodger are throwing grounders to each other. They are actually trying. This is new for us. For the first time all season, it seems that we can intimidate another team. The Foxes must sense this power. They are warming up far away in the outfield, not near their dugout. We watch them as we warm up.

They can't catch each other's throws. When they miss, their balls dribble toward the infield where we're warming up. They have to come close to us to get their loose balls. One by one they hustle near us, then dart away when they've retrieved their balls, each player uglier than the one before. The missing teeth, the uneven growths of hair, and the odd shapes their bodies make when they run cause us to point and snicker. We don't laugh out loud, though. The fact that they even showed up for a tournament looking the way they do makes them scary in a way. Who could possibly intimidate a group of people that ugly?

At school, the rules of physical appearance are clear. The ugly people only have power behind the scenes-where no one's looking. The good-looking people have all the social power; the ugly people kiss-up to them in public. But when the Foxes come toward us to get their loose balls, they don't kiss up to us at all. They don't even say thank you when we throw their balls back to them. They grunt and fake smile s.

How dare they not be nice to us? At least our eyes are where they're s~pr>osed to b w , , h ,v, ' t J. ust aom oe. well put them out of the tournament for t at. we re no b b to beat the , h 1p for another m, we re gonna punish them so badly that they never s ow L t0 urn am d , d n y speech ah, . em aga1n. Not looking like that anyway. We on t nee a . . >ut hel1 cv · · · And kn owing is more: th, in ? 1n ourselves this game. We know that we can win . an heli evin g.

Whe n G d . ,1 eec h we stand , expect' <>r on co m es o ve r to gjve us his pre-ga me s J • 1 ing to he - . d'ff ,t fr o m hts usu a spe:tch. ar som et hin g g rea t, o r a t leas t so m e thm g I CJ er ·

th "U h Th , . . be be rr c: r th an ,, em . I do ; ey re not much be tte r than us. We mi ght eve n . ·der to win . ro , n t kn o e· . . ursel ves tn o r

uVeg w. ' tth e r way yo u've go t to bel.t eve 1n yoor to b li , e eve that yo u can or el se- "

' 'O r else w at. ,, on't win.

''Or els e yo u w th H' b lieve crap and we beat e awks. We knew , " We didn t e didn' " \1/e d . matter of fact. But we t. get o~ asses kicked as a all y believed in yourselves deep inside."

"Maybe yo u re . id thing to say and he knows it. He's lookin

That was a stuP · d g <low h lders fall and our feet st:lr ust as we take the fi ld n so h cannot see our s ou e , no lo e d 'th beating the Foxes. nger oncerne wi h h ' c 1-tch pretty well w en e s not angry. When he . Lance can p . . is upset di t ble dangerous even. By the second 1.Ilrung he's h . , he becomes unpre c a ' ' . ' s O\VJ.n . Gordon is positive that Lances wildness can be used . g s1gGs of frustration. . 1Iltenu00 th Foxes away from the plate. He asks Lance 1f he can al- ly-to scare e control hi . hi O'h not to hit anyone. Lance says that he can. And he do s p1tc ng enouo es control his pitching up until the fourth mrung when the Foxes start hugging the plate.

The smaller strike zone frustrates Lance more and he starts throwing harder-harder, for him, means les_s co~trol. He gets so fru strated at one point that he starts thinking about throwmg pitches at the batters mtentionally. That's what he tells me when I stop the game and walk out to the mound to talk with him. I tell him to calm down and throw strikes.

"They stand too close to the plate," he says.

"Well, ignore them. We're not going to win if they all get walks."

"Do you still want to win?"

"I don't know. But I don't want them to win."

''Yeah. They're pretty funny-looking."

When we take our bats in the fifth inning, Lance is up first. That means that I probably won't bat this inning. So I get comfortable, take my shoes off and shake out the rocks, relax, until I'm interrupted.

"Pst."

"What?"

"Tell Lance to throw harder."

"He'll hit someone."

"Th 1 uld at would be a real shame. Listen. Do you think that the Wease s co take th e Foxes? In a fight I mean. I bet this kid in the stands that you guys could destroy the Fox h d h ,, hi allet and . es an -to- and. Dan pulls a wad of money from s w gives me a five. "They got tropical punch slushies here your favorite. Tell Lai1ce to put so me h t hi ' h ar h1U1 when h , ea on s pitches. You hear me?" He always asks if you e es lit; as though he can't hear himself

It's the sixth · · · the pJMe, I'm wond . _inrung. As Darren, the Foxes' best hitter, walks to . nature. ermg what it wo ·ld b lik . h c r real in They prob bl u e e if a fox and a weasel foug t 10 ' d a Y wouldn't fi h fi d a goo d hiding plac Th ig · t; the weasel would outrun the fox or 10 d w bloO ' b e. at would b k · f: and ra ut just to h e O ay with me: not to go fang-to- ang' d th e11 1 s ow a little cl h hrubs a!l rf'I c eap into the aw t en scamper away underneath some 5 p rk- i 1 · nearest bod f . r/ ; neY a Y O Water, like the creek that circles Mcl'JD

ould follow and splash in after us, but find th foxes W e Water so refr hin 'd float on down the creek and forget about the g es g that chey ame.

Darren can't forget the fastball that hit him b l hi . . e ow s eye thou h H hes the ball plop into the powdery dirt before he ch k hi g · e ware k uc s s bat on th h. d him. The bat smac s my toes, and I yell a few thin e ground be tn gs toward the p , d out. They approach the field but don't actually charge until .,.., oxes ug thi I h d 'd S .10ny and a few thers repeat the ngs a sai . ammy creates entirely n hi o uld h th ew t ngs to saythings none of us wo ave ever ought of, mean things.

Darren walks to the mound, arms down. Lance puff hi h , . s s c est out and 1atches Darren s pace. There will be a fight soon. Someone will b th 1 n . e e oser. If our science teacher, Mr. Zoatle, were here, we'd get into an argument about who would win. I know exactly what he'd say.

''Yes, yes. At the same velocity, the ob1'ect with more mass will 0 verpower the object with less mass. That's a law. You can't deny it."

I'd say, "You're telling me that if two kids are walking toward each other at the same speed to fight, then the bigger guy would win all the time?"

"Close," he'd say, adding that "mass" didn't just mean "bigger."

"Science is crap," I'd tell him and reference cases where a smaller guy beat up a bigger guy. "Brad vs. Tom, The Johnsons' backyard, 1986."

"No, no. That can't be." He'd start jumping around like a monkey. "If their relative velocities are identical and all other variables are the same then-"

Then Darren would lift Lance up and slam him down. But that's not what happens. When they meet, Lance scoops Darren up and drops him to the ground. They start scratching and kicking. As they do, the Foxes are walking toward our dugout. Dan is watching from the bleachers. He's sitting and talking to the kid he'd bet. Rikki , the Foxes' third baseman, sees that I am not fighting anyone. He comes my way. . .

I look over at our dugout. Gordon is walking in circles and scratching his head. He stops walking occasionally to look at the fight. Then he turns away guickly and continues circling. He's probably very disappointed in us. He s~ys that he doesn't like fighting. As he circles away again, I notice that Rikki is char~ng me at full speed. Just before Rikki tackles me I look over at Gordon one last time b ' . . e ore my face eats dust. Gordon has stopped walking in circles. He ts watchrng us fi ght H · ili · e 1s sm ng.

August Embrace

\\hen the weight of wet air drags heavy covers to the floor and stick y summer sheets slide off we sleep ankle to ankle.

From Yeats

I remember sleep, resting in your \-Watchful lap. I ran eagerly down your knee and dripped like a soft kiss on your delicate, milky-white feet. If I looked up, I could have seen The blue sky of your eyes blessed by the shade of your cheeks. A candle burns the wick in this lamp as it lights the bed post you claw. This door swings with the wind of neglect but never creaks. The storm outside your window is closer than I. If raindrops stream down your face and hair, would you still refuse this dry coat? Your shadow stays in the blackest pitch, always standing 'til the last drop rolls off of your tongue. My aesthetic taste waters for The soft brush of your skin on my lips. The greatest gifts

Wrapped in golden words and twine wi ther as your beauty gleams-I wait for your fingers to drop and I will fill the cup again. Tilt your head for this antiquity. I hang around your pristine neck as soft as The clouds that . blind your moonlit eyes. Lift up your head and see the rain soften. It only falls along with feathers.

In Fores t Park, J u ly 200 6

With apologies to H enry Da vid Thoreau

In a ci ty park, a wild egret stands whitely at a formal pool 's edge. Carved balustrades frame her; her straight shoreline is quarried ston cut and polished.

In the middle distance a saint's statue and a beaux arts building complete a harmonious, classical scene, a donor's dream.

She sets all at naught, from the curved line of her neck to her tense, savage stance, as she waits for a minnow's scales to send to her huntress eyes the golden glint of the morning's fine sunrise.

The fnfomous I ,io n

swee t crunchy melon juice dribbling careless!y down a sun browned chin

balmy summer breeze tickles the sticky trail from m y fruit stained smile down my freckled summer skin

Truck Tires Crunch My Snowy Driveway As .

Truck tires crunch my snowy driveway as glove-covered fingers reach to your . . switch off headlights and windshield wipers, leaving our heavy breaths to hang in the enclosed air and onto each other as dancing snowflakes do the same outside. You say something but I don't hearnames repeating themselves, my first and your last, underneath my frozen breath. A bare hand of mine has already found its home in the wool-lined pocket of your corduroy coat. Leather saddles, mill dust, wild animals-smells I hate that you make me love. I study the stubble you tried on tonight, silently then vocally agreeing with your decision. Feeble words of dismissal begin to drop uselessly into your lap. I catch them beneath your chin with my pocketless hand and seal the hole with a lip-licked kiss.

Thoughts of Grandpa

M randfatht:r wa~ the kind of man wh o worked with his hands H ' h 1 . y g . . · · • ls w o e Jife he tilled su il an d bwlt airplanes and took care of my grandma who stopped knowing hjm too young. And my grandpa loved me because I was so much like gram, but 1 never knew gram, when she was still gram, so I never knew I was. My grandpa would take me on walks in the woods and show me the leaves and tell m e what kind of trees they were on. Now I ask men to tell me but they never kn ow what he knew. My grandpa would dig worms early in the morning and never let me come and help him. I later found out it was because when my mother was my age she had been digging worms in a copperhead nest, but 1 didn't know that then. My grandfather would tell me that I had to live up to my words, keep my pronuses, and live with honor. He told me that duty meant more than pleasure, or even love, and I didn't know it then but he spoke of the years he'd spent alone takjng care of grandma. He didn't have love for the last two decades of his life, but I heard him and still hear him when people tell me I shouldn't feel obligated to talk to my parents, after all they did to break me. My grandfather told me to be a lady but never to be weak. He said that real. ladies are like steel underneath and I think he would be proud of my hardness even though my mother says it just means that I'm a Bitch. r didn't know it then but now I think my grandpa was scared of what J mjght become with a mother who could never grow up and a father who mi sused everything he met. And now. when I could have really heard h' . ' 1m 1f he spoke to me, he has been gone for too long for me to remember much of what he said. I can still catch glimpses though of that so honorable man when I alk ' ' w th rough the woods he planted and remember the names of those trees.

Compromise

I remember my father

Comi ng home from work

Black, tarry grease smeared across His gray blue uniform, Melted into fresh cuts and creases

In his hands, His forehead

Knitted together

A network of frown lines, wrinkles.

My mother

Running in from the kitchen would

Proudly announce dinner, Her red apple cheeks shining as She gazed at my father.

"Isn't he handsome?"

She would glow at me, Wrapping her arms tightly around him.

He always winced a little.

Looking back

I wonder how she did it.

How many times She wished for more Return than just a Pat on the back.

BigJitn

My grandpa was a thick, strong man H h · . · e ad worked · over 40 years, domg the same Job: lifting hundred f at a tire factory for . h . s o pounds of bb three stories, usmg c runs and a pulley. He was th th ru er mold s up . e guy ey had ' . hydraulic s yet. Everyo~e ~ailed him Big Jim. n t replaced with Thankfully, Big Jim wouldn't hurt a fly provi'd d · ' e it wasn't on his £ d

When I was born, for example, my mom tried to hand hi . 00 · me to m in the post rum room, but he always refused. I was his first grandson Th h pard · • · e man ad almost touched m y forehea with his nose two or three times I'm t ld b . , , o , ecause he was hovenng over m y mothers shoulder so closely. Yet even sitting hi d . . . . m own, putting a pillow m his lap, and wrapping me m thick cotton blankets couldn't persuade him to take me, for fear that he might hurt me.

As I grew out of diapers, he grew out of his fear. It seemed so anywayenough to throw me into laughing fits on the front lawn, hold me down to tie my shoes, or put me on his lap. I like to think part of his softening up was because I changed his name from Big Jim to Papa Jim. But his hands told a different story and stayed as they always had. I couldn't change them: still large and calloused, with unkept fingernails and leathery knuckles. His house was a delight. It was a deep sky blue, and I will never forget it because of a most amazing quality: it had no front door. Guests would walk right up to the kitchen door. The driveway pulled up in the back. The garage was in the back. All the trees with low branches to climb were in the back. Sure, paper boys usuaJJ y threw papers at the "front" door, but no one read them anyway; everything worthwhile was in the back.

The basement and upper rooms smelled like mothballs, because they were fuil of old things. In the basement I once found a piece of exercise equipment fro m the mid - 1940s. Papa Jim's theory was that it was designed to burn fat off yo ur ~ai 5r thro ugh a highly complex process he called "jiggling your innards." Though d1sturbing, this way of putting it made more sense after I tried it myself, when I wa s about seven ye ars old. I stood on a platform facing a white beam with some button s, as if it were a scale Then I wrapped a stretched plastic belt aro u nd m~· :wer_back ~nd attached th e end s to the sides of the b eam. When turned on, th e se ~ch ine twisted me Like a h elli sh Hula - h oop. I was frighten ed fo r the ftr st twenty cond s or s _ h · . . . . . d · ff t ·n fear but anticip . 0 t · at is, until a s upervis ing Papa JJm punch e 1t o - no 1 at1on- t k •f . 0 as 1 I felt lighter yet. rn ent I Wh~n not outside with neighbor kids or on crusades through th e bas e' was in Pap J· , . . d b d ;vi th rails on the headb a Im s room. It had a boxy telev1s10n set an a e \: . .

rd · We would he there, hours upon hours, holding the bed rails while

him: of The Pn"ce Is Righ t, The Andy Cnif.J·fji f. . ·ere re- run s to . t/7 Jhow

_ cbing whar w d of co urse, Matlock I cam e to believe that U , "ar . d \![acGyver, an . b d a nor Gi//tr1a!l1 Jslan , 1 h dboa rd rails o f th e1r e s. I also cam e to b li 11'lal b lding the ea e eve th neople sle pt ho d al of TV and had breakfast in bed on plasti at r - rc he d a great e c trays e,-eryone wa al ( .th sugar properl y mixed b y sloshing the spoo n ba k. . of cere Wl cli z· C and cons1st1!1g d hocolate D oll y Ma so n ingers. bread, an c . fo rch), rru sl.!1 . hildhood would be packed m boxes , when my famih, Soo n this c . ; moved . . Ohio to Jncliana, a full five ho urs awa y. We were f _ from hi s house 111 ar enough av:a) h uld only be able to make the tnp to us once maybe t\ from rum that e WO ' 1/tce, a year. I was doing quite well marking the cale~d ar though. It had been six months and three days since Papa Jim had last v1s1ted, and he was finall y corning again , "soo n." Mom promised it :"ould be " soon," anyway. I was looking our the large kitchen windows one morrung, and could see the day see~ed g~ne already It was probably 7 A.M.; it felt like a cloudy 6 P.M. Yesterday was like this too and the day befo re . In fact, every day in recent memory was. The sky was a stead y reflecti ve gr~y, an d the only way to tell it was morning was the frost that had settled on the grass.

Last time she had promised "soon" it had taken three more months for her to make good on it. I wasn't trying to keep track, of course, but facts were facts. I poured Cheerios slowly, wishing Mom didn't have such strong beliefs in eating politely and healthily. I desperately wanted a plastic tray for eating in bed . Some sugar would be nice too Really... the least she could do was put a TV bythe table.

Suddenly, I heard my mom calling in her usual hushed, early-morning way. I grabbed my bowl and followed her voice to the living room. It was unusually foggy and objects were blurred all over the room as I remember it: that distinct ' se_nsation th at dozens of candles have been left burning all night, to pack the air with extra humidity. It smelled like a blend of dead skin cough medicine, ao da pharmacy. I heard the spurts of oxygen coming from a ~hastly sort of hocke_y ' mask, attached t th 1 d p aJ1rn s.

H O e s en er face I recognized-after some time-as ap e was stretched f . . • the arm5 of h out, a rail and bony frame with shaking hands gnppmg I t e couch. As I d . f myboW . M st00 in the doorway I found it hard to keep hold 0

Ynose cleared d an my eyes burned d

Our doo rways . . arents ha trcJ uble work· h were cold and defined-so unwelconung, my P f Jl'lan)' · mg t e old · . one 0 in a neighborhood of ' . Ja~ed locks with theu keys. The house wa~ h that looked dow Victorian homes, and had ceilings twelve feet hlg acked n at me ever h . ks were er and cobwebs d yw ere I went. Because of its age, the bric 0d to h angled everywh h warped a o ug to slid e O · ere; t e dark wood floors were too were to stiff . n in yo ur so k . h Th arpets to li e on, and h . c s wit out the risk of splinters. e c It w~ 5 hard t h t e stairs c k d d thefl1· b · 0 eat in the . roa e whenever anyone steppe on ble i!l etwe winter h d forta en the extre ' ar to cool in the summer and uncom tne s. '

The roo m I now looked inr~ ,.--as m ostly bbck_.m~ '"·h.tte. \\ith sh 3 des of ci.n a the currains. The bnghrest b lue c:une in npples the o n es Lining my l Pe.necra o _,...: h kn . _ · b ti c' • ,e e,·es En~n a St:.U.1 S person c111 · o w true S3cnbce. To ha,·e ope ned r11 or.her:> ren - he;d planned for ,·ears, fo r Pap a Jim to come and li, ·e ,, ith us imread home as s · ..

h~r a ho me, when " it ,Yas nme - that u-a s daugh ter ly lm·e.

Ot 1 oUfS.l!lo · k ld · th hi d b hi d · · d ·

· N ro wake a sic· o n1an , m, mo er ,, spere a our s nnn o unn <"T I or · · b 1:-

·o-ht whe n I finall~ - sat down . Apparentl>· he wa s going to surprise me , bur rhe 010 h ould make it, h e w,1s take n to a h ospital b~- amb ul an ce afte r co lla psinobefore e c . . . i::, 0 0 our fro nt p o rch. In th ~ ~ os p1tal b ed , as 1t turn s out, Big J un handed his ke~ s . . com-inced th at 1t h e w as unfit to w alk w1th o ur str uggle, he w as untH to 0 ,-er, , er~ LC driYe.

At the menti o n of handing m·er his ke~·s, he woke fro m hi s pre ten d sleep to mutter something, then laug h , then cough , then laug h at his co ug h ing. T o tlus dar I don't know what he said.

· Anticipation gave way to fear in me. His exercis e th eor y nug ht p rove true after all. In the short months since I'd last seen him , emphysem a a nd P arki nson ·s disease had managed to rattle his fat and muscle almost gone , in en dless co ug h ing and uncontrolled nerves. His neck g yrated ev en in his sleep, on an invisi bl e Hul ahoop with an invisible off-button. I tried hard to punch it, hurt m y han d s o n m a ny walls in search of it.

Young Patriots

Lennon 's Song

. d aro und hi s eyes, two moons , like the ones Grandma Ri!TlJ'Tl e wore, were alway s shining. . . • 't an occasi on, 1t w as a life. It wasn .

When I hear him , I wonder, did he_als~ suffer down a high school hall ? Is this why he always had to fight; is this why he was good at it?

I fough t

while running through the hallways that should have been m y life, trying not to slow down for " fag " and "queer" because I was afraid of the power in these words. I found comfort in him at night, but always missed his meaning for the literal. I see now through the two moons, I imagine myself in his mirror and know, that it is his words that giv e me power, his words that help me defend m,· childhood against the not important.

Twenty-five years after he 's gone, I think on his death. It is a shame that the last occasion

he had to use his words made them carry a different weight-unknowingly one last chance-when a doorman saw him choke out his words through six gunshot wounds, "Help me-Oh God, I've be'n shot!"

Love Leaving

The birds play, work and sing in this prairie we walk with shadows Reminding me of the seagull we watched rolling, ' Like a rubber ducky on a big bathtub, as night tossed and turned On its waterbed unable to sleep, like you and me in our cabin.

You scared me when you came up from behind me and whispered Something so sweet; for I was deciding how to leave you. The seagull then flew away, possessed by thoughts kept hidden from me And that seemed to be a sign; that I too could fly away from us. '

But I wanted to be a seagull anyway, my work inseparable from my rest and play; Maybe then, I thought, maybe, I would stay and not leave you. When I told you so you just stared into the sea the way families Stare at death inside funeral parlors. I knew then that I should leave you.

Something soapy about this love. Like bubbles in a bathtub, it flees my grip, Flies away, bursts open when it hits hard surfaces, or sticks Unpredictably to things, making memories for me that make me want to stay, Not leave you. Like memories of late day walks with you through shadows.

As we walk through the prairie holding each other, listening ll To birds singing unseen in trees, you tell me what's for dinner. And I can te By the way we touch that we'll make love tonight. And after my ba th , I'll toss and turn on the couch alone dreaming of how to leave you.

. ao-ing man

Doubt is an ti-ne really trusts. who no o .

}Ie spends his time .

. f rn door to door m shoes

oUJ.g ro . . ked with rnuddy ambiguity

a . trail of uncertainty behind himself

LeaVUlg a like a slug

You open your door and he steps in (who is this person really? what does he want?)

Looks around and smiles

(is he being friendly? is he casing the joint?)

Hangs his hat on the rack and reclines in a chair idly reading the newspaper

Already he creeps you out

You don't want him around

You want him gone

What to do?

Social life falls apart.

Accomplishment drops by wearing her usual medals and an expensive new dress to go with her beaming face

opkens th e front door and halts with her foot on the threshold, smile vanishing ta es one lo k "h . " h ld O at zm slouching insolently on the sofa

o s her nose in disgust and leaves.

You w ld

ou run after her '

bu t yo u h try to coax her to come in, ave to sta d Y put an keep an eye on Doubt for fear

il er while yo u are g one . th th e S V

he ww r do es h e p er sist in angmg around?)

_: 11 un off Wl h .

. he up to ? why

(wha t ts 1 1 keeping watch o n Doubt as ent help ess y

Yo ur days ~re sp around your home

he strolls silently

dusting your bo okcase

re ading and rereadin o- your di 0 ary

carelessly rearranging your breakables for no apparen t hanging absurd mobiles of paper cups and dreamcatchers from your bedroom ceiling

softly wresting the remote control from your hand and idl y channel-surfing, leaving you to

reason fume and fret over the unseen outcome of the Cowboys' fourth-and-goal

Hints are Useless

Suggestions are Useless

Threats are Useless

Dou~t only looks you in the face and smirks as 1f to say

"I'm quite at home, thank you, and I have no i ·

He knows ntention of going anywhere." you are no danger to him.

Even if you lose

And yo ur cou t your ~emper completely

And r es y vanishes

yo u grab him and

And hurl him b throw open the door

Y · out y c ou will . iorce go tnto th k' he will b Th e 1tchen and e ere

curled up behin or Perhap l d the stove

s eani . ng ag ainst the . sink, gazing at the clock

ill th row him out again You w .And double-lock the door

d this time you will catch sight of him .An h . .fi . gin throug an ms1gru icant crack in the roof Slipptn

(hoW can he possibly squeeze through there?)

You will tape up the roof wi th great cost of e~fort and tim~ -despite a certamty that he will fmd another way in if he wantsAnd plead with him to leave.

He merely smiles and stands before the fridge, looking menacingly at the last of the cake.

Finally

You go to the library and come across a friend who knows nothing of your plight and Bring him or her home with you for tea, for a chat, for a week's visit

And Doubt stands up in greeting (what has he been up to? better check the piggy bank) and shakes hands with your friend nods at each of you picks up his hat And leaves to find another Empty house to sponge in (what a relief)

The End for Grat1d1J1a

dma lies on her hospital bed in the middle of the living room Gran · She hasn't bathed in days. Still in the same pink fuzz y robe, She gums fried chicken , Slurps mashed potatoes, . , . Complains that her coffee 1sn t the nght temperature.

Mom calls from the kitchen and asks me to brush Grandma's hair. ''Are you gonna make me beautiful?" she cackles.

"You bet."

J glide my hand over each section of her snowflake hair, Carefully pulling the thick bristled brush through Until it seems to resemble the style she always wore.

Her mangy cat crawls up into her lap, And I think that he knows, too. That the cancer, Eating away her body, Won't take much longer.

Sunlight filters in.

Afichael Fetters

The Overture Los t

This morning the phone shut up; it had been ringing since last year and nothing I could do woul d stop the insisten ce of its voice pleading with me that I was wrong to wa nt m o re than she could give she who would not admit fault unle ss it were mine, and would not congratulate without obedience; I no longer have the card she gave me, but I have the envelope, the yellowed whiteness frayed and stained with blood from the cut I received with her card; it bled all last year, seeping into my clothes as it dripped down my arm, the overture of the card lost, draining from my hand in red rivulets; my ears ring in her silence, reminding me the reprieve is but momentary.

Two Pairs of Pajamas

I have two pairs of pajamas

Lingering about my door; One pair I wear when you are here While the other decorates the floor. This pair that you admireWith bells and whistles shaped with wire Would let you believe how yours I've become But when you leaveI change into the other one.

And by "Deadly" I Mean "Delicious"

un gotta run Gotta r , ak S came to life today. pan e e

It is hard to escape

With this syrup on m y shoes.

Sunday with Galaxia

Th e volleyball incident happened on Saturday. C ar o line di d , h I ·f h l n t con1 . ht-she slept on the couc , gues s, 1 s e s ept a t all-and h e to bed th at ni g kin Sh ll s e \Vok ti ·t m o rning with sounds of coo g. e ca ed to tell m e wh b e n1e up 1e o ex till li . en rea kf d but I didn't move. I lay s , sterung to m y brea th blend . . ast was on e, . . in Wtth th tires swishing along the interstate, smelling bacon, trying to think of noth · e

One of the first conversations Caroline and I ever had was abo Jng. th R 'd l . . ut Sund It was a few years ago, when she was e es1 entla Life A dvisor fo r her do a>s USC, and I was in grad school, dating one of her freshmen. I'd m et Carolin rm at · · · b lin · eabr tim es-she'd poke m to invite us to?~ ow _g ~r. to a mov ie night o r a Pain tb al] wee kend playing mascot for the excmng possibilities of the dorm co mmu . ' . , ni ty-bu t we also saw her a couple times a month to get weed. Caroline s big broth er Todd live d in Arcata and kept his little sister's friends and suitemates sto cked up in k Stlc ·y bushels of Humboldt County sensimilla.

Caroline and I ran into each other one Sunday morning in th e student lounge; I was microwaving a breakfast burrito, reading a paper, and when I loo ked up, she was standing by the soda machine in a ratty Banana Slugs T -s hirt and gray sweatpants. I expected her to remind me of the rules on overnight vis itors, but she didn't even look at me. She was staring out the picture window th at ran th e length of the east wall of the lounge, wearing a frown that reached down her whole body . The sky over downtown L.A. was the color of pavement, and hung so low it seemed to be leaning on the tops of the buildings. I thought I'd h eard thund er earlier, but I knew it wouldn't rain. It never rained.

" Overdo it last night?" I asked.

"No. A little. I just hate Sundays. Look at that sky .... Spend the wh ole day just waiting around to get tired enough to go back to bed. " She stifled a yawn and raked her hand through her hair, trying to press her bushy blonde bed head back into place. It popped back up the moment her hand moved to cover up another yawn.

"S d h "lt was undays always stressed me out when I was a kid," I tol er. 5 Mo nd ay th d 1 d · som e way · e next ay, you know? It was worse than a schoo ay in · b And I b d ' t's yo ur JO . remem er being scared back then that when you get ol er, 1 ch to in stead o f s h 1 d . 1 dea th mar . c 00 , an Sundays were always going to be this ong Mo nd ay: "

"And yo u were right." s·· .. ,rp ro ns-''

" I ' d T he 111' . t s no t so bad an ym o r e ," I said. " There 's fo otb all. A n ,, ·

She smiled "I , lik k d ll d ay " · · ts e God 1vants me to stay ba e a And dru gs, too See ? Gr o wing up rocks."

M . c o d was finis h ed th e n and I wi sh ed h e r luck o n turrun · h

I " 10 g er g ray day

· vi· te d m e to b nn g th e gul to th e s tud e nt lo unge to list Th . en She JJ1 en to zs gre : L/e be fo re The S1 mpson s. A nencan ':r thi I l · b d l kin pi I membered s a s ay 1n e ' oo g through the slats at th k re . . es y over It looked ju s t like it did that da y outside the window at U SC fl d the de sert. • at an

My alarm clock read 9:53, green dot b y the ''AM" and I cou t d h olid gray. . , n e ow s h 5 it would be before I could expect to be tlred enough to sleep • I rn an y our , . again . member Caroline s tone of v oice when she called for me tried to 1 - d rri ed to re . . , u ge d tried to guess how things were gomg to go today. her moo , . .

Today was the day the hippies were gathermg for that outdoor concert in th e desert a few miles away._ Maybe we wo~d be able :o hear it, maybe we could sit de r the carport and listen to the music. Maybe it would rain. out un

When I came out into the kitchen for breakfast, Caroline was halfway through her omelet. Mine sat in the pan. She glanced at me and went back to chewing, splitting her gaze between the window over the sink and a spot on the tablecloth . She looked pale and puffy and exhausted.

I sat down, thanked her for breakfast, and tried not to think of something to say, but Caroline was much better at it than me.

"That concert's today," I told her when she got up to put her plate in the

"I'm sure it's sold out."

''Yeah, but maybe we're close enough to hear it. We could sit outside or maybe drive out there, get a little closer."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

She took a shower, and I fmished my omelet.

Nothing to do, it was Sunday. I'd had a slow week so I hadn't brought any work home. Caroline left rooms when I entered. So I went outside and sat in a p~aSric lawn chair. The sound of the traffic on the highway had been replaced by a diSrant grumble of voices from off behind the orange groves, but no music yet. . I rocked my weight against the smooshy back of the chair and waited. A guitar cho d th d M . r struck somewhere, and a rumble of cheers murmured over e esert. us1c came l l uld ' k next, ow and distorted and I could tell right away my pan wo n t or Th ' see ·f· e diS tance reduced it to a low muffle. I held my breath, though, tried to 1 I could k · · d · could ma e any of the notes out tell if it was an ything I recognize o r Who eni oy At fir st it was nonsense bu~ then it clicked in m y head, and I kn ew Was pl · , Strok, ay1ng, knew the song could sing along if I listened closel y. It wa s Th e es. Caroli ' · · · r A One of th n ~ and I went to their shows all the time, back m o ur d ays 111 ., ·

&et us b ke girl s in Caroline's dorm was a club own er's little sis ter, and sh e use d to · ac stage h . , b W ar- tl.e d With h w en th e y we re in town back b efo re th ey we re sup er- ig. e P t em . '

Caro line. bur i t o ccurred to me she didn·

_1 _., st got up co g et t

hear e

I a.1.u,O babh·. )J o t ro da:· ant to Th Scrokes, pro

\X·e hadn't eaten sin c e b r eakfast. I said: " Carolin

I t was 4 PM. e, You 'J?ant lunch ?" l h

She didn't want un c . - d )"

I said "What do yo u w an t to o . f: . th ddi ' dn' know. She sat o n th e so a in e en, trowning at a She t . cross~

Her legs were g ath ered up under her I n dian - style and the baggy fold or~ puzzle.

1 k d like a d ark n est b e ne ath h er. · s 01 her favorite sweatpants oo e .

fli d through the channels , but 1t w as the top o f th e ho ur and I ppe . . ' most of mmercial break so I had no idea w hat w as on reallv them were on co , , , ·

1 said: "You act like you're pissed off at m e "

She just needed some time to herself. She was sor ry. M aybe one of us should go for a ride. Or out to the concert.

I said: "I love you. "

She loved me, too. She scribbled.

Then somebody knocked on our living room window.

Outside our living room window we kept a flowerbed filled with geraniums, cordoned off by a knee-high wire fence. Anyone knocking on our ·window had to be standing in our geraniums. Out of instinctive protection of my plants I didn't bother to look out the window, I just hurried out onto the porch .

Somehow, Caroline got there first, but it didn 't make any difference , we all ended up standing still, staring at each other, all three of us: m y w ife, mys elf, and the woman in a green bikini standing in our flowers.

" Hi! " she said with her whole face, her eyebrows raised behind her RayBan sunglasses. Thin, blonde, young-but older than she looked , maybe. She didn't seem to notice she had gouged her leg on the chicken wire climbing the little f~nce , and blood trickled down her kneecap. She rocked in three different direct:J.ons at once, opening and closing her fists in her blonde hair.

" Hi!" she said again.

" Hey," Caroline said.

" C

" an I have some-I'm sorry--can I hav e some water? " ,, She Sure " C lin fl wers stepp d ff th, aro e said, "but first , come on and get out of our O th e e o e po h d P over fenc U d re an took the woman b y the arm to help her ste 1 d th e e. n er her feet t d . th resernb e Bat Signal. ' s ompe into the flowers, was a pattern at

T . he woman said " I' , ,, , ~1...; k she was 0 gizing for th ' m so sorry. Im so sorr y. I don t uw• fl owe rs e geranium " Oh I aw th e and th ought I . h s. , I was going to look for a hose , 5

"Y 'nug t be able to get to a hose. "

ou re thirsty,, C .

" Oh ' aroline said.

, God , am I."

I as about to show he r h ow to turn on th w . e hos . . ent flowe rs, b ut Ca ro line said: ' Well e Without tnu d . J11 ore iJ1floc , come on in, We'll r ering any '' get Yo us ~acer. "Oh, thank yo u." She squeezed Caroline' h onie " s ands against h hank you. er face. "Thank )'oU, t * * *

She emptied th e cups almost faster than I uld . co refill th d rne afte r the third. em. Caroline sroppe

''You go tta slow down, okay?"

"O ne more. "

"I don't want you to throw up in my kitchen ok ;i»

" Sh til d b ' ay .

''Yeah , o ka y. e te ack her head and held th 1 . to kn ock o ut the last drop. e g ass over her mouth, trying

The woman said: "I'm Galaxia."

"Is that a nickname?"

"I'm Caroline and this is my husband Larry" c lin . aro e cocked her head d squ inted as though she were already admonishing the £ an . . ' " What's your name;:>" woman or lying to her nex t gues t10n. • at me.

"No. That's m y name." She smiled at Caroline and waved the empty glass

Caroline nodded. "You can have more, but drink it slow, okay?"

I passed Galaxia another glass of water. I said: "How'd you get here?"

Gulp. " I drove my car for a while, but then I walked."

"Where's your car?"

"On the other side of the orchard thingy, by the bridge."

Caroline looked at Galaxia and then at me, squinting. ''What bridge?"

"It's a bridge, on the other side of the orchard."

I said, "That big culvert thing, where the ditch runs under the road."

"Yeah, yeah." Speaking of irrigation, her glass was empty again.

"Where were you going?" Caroline asked.

"I was going to the gas station for cigarettes-hhhwwuuuhh!" She grabbed Caroli ne and gasped, "Do you have a cigarette?"

"N o, we don't smoke."

"Shit! Shit!" But Galaxia shrugged and went back to gulpi~g. ali

''Y hi n unfair gener za. ou live in L.A ," Caroline said; I thought t s was a . dd d Her tl<m b t G l ;>" C oline pro e · ' u a axia no dded. "So why were you out here. ar tlmc: w as gentle · · " , susp1c1ous. t of cigarettes. Of t nd we ran ou

"

co urse : " I was at that JamFest cancer , a ,, This was news to Oh " . to go to th at. nit. ,, , sure, Caro line said, "we were going

Ho w was it;>"

A d the

''O . ki kicked ass! n

Free fui.d · h, Jt wa s aweso me! KattyWhumpus J0 st foe ngd f th em-" ,~cals opened for them, I don't know if you've h ear 0

Yeah, ye ah ."

..The: ,· w e re :l\\·esome ! hind of a jammy rock-typ ,v,. · e w1desp kicked ,;.rs... :Mo re w-a ter, and then she was back on the list of read thin d, c cr:.1 fts sh e'd b o ug ht o r wanted to bu y. As Galaxia talked C th e ~ands she~d' . . . l. , aroli.ne see m e q·nnn111g. qw e t ,· tranac , tr yrng to commurucate somethin Was st . n, . :::- . . g to rn atin o f o ur o-u es t's h ea d Sh e moaoned toward Galaxia-look I h e over th gat . a er. I loo e to Ca.bto rnt ::i skin , b o uaqu e blonde hair, a long ethnic chin-but a c ked . P · lin h h per1 ect Ii o p en1 n o se. and som e any es on er c eeks that certainly ttle so . Were onl ap sh e 'd b ee n s\1.·eaang all day._ She looked like a generically beautiful L; Vts1ble When inchin o h er w ay towards thirty. · · surf bun~ b • •~ry I refill ed her cup.

' '\"X";ell , did yo u need to get back there? To the concert::>" C . · arolin ''Not really. I just ... I really wanted to be alone and talk e asked. . to Jesus I us e a smoke, though. Do you have any cigarettes?" · could ·'No. "

" Shit. Shit."

" You have a cell phone, right?" Caroline asked.

Gala..~a nodded and dug through her pockets found nothing th d . . , . ' , en ug aga.m, and then made a face like she d JUSt fallen out of an airplane. "Oh hi 1, . ,, , s t. ts in my car.

" \Ve can go get your car, it's really no problem. But Galaxia," Caroline looked like she was about to self-destruct with the explosive power of whatever hilarious joke she 'd been trying to get through to me, "can I ask you a question?"

Galaxia nodded, spilling water down her chest.

" Galaxia isn't your real name, is it?"

Gala..~a nodded slowly and looked serious, even sad. ''Yes, it is. That was my name before I was born, that's my real name. It's what I really want to be called. It's the name I think of myself as."

"Okay, we'll call you that. But ... are you Lydia Barfield?"

Galaxia pulled the glass from her face. She grabbed Caroline's shoulders and danced a little shuffle of excitement. "Oh! You recognize me!"

Caroline contained herself, but I couldn't. I guffawed and turned away from them, doubled over the kitchen counter.

d lik O grade·

"I thought it was you!" Caroline yelled. The two hugge e tw school chums reunited. She h 1 of course.

~ y wife did not know Lydia Barfield from grade sc 00 ' did. She was knew Lydia Barfield the same way I did. The same way everybody no minated for "Best Supporting Actress" last year. d sped: C line an ga Sudd e nl y, Galaxia pulled back from her grip on aro " Le ' h t s watc o n e of my movies! Can we?"

C aroline laughed. "Now, Lydia-or is it Galaxia?"

"I don't care , eith e r one ."

"Well, I don 't think we have any of your movies. "

Galaxi a melted. " Oh. Crap."

till hunched O\-er the c o unte r , still la u ghing. " Wait," I said, "vou I was s " ; b c!J '.r Ballgam e A 1?J o ere io h I"

' 'Yea · VHS co p y in a box of unpacked co llege stuff in the bas I had a ement. as a ch arming screwball comedy about a romance betw th d '.r Baffgatne w . . . een e t1y bo 1J . league umpire (Lydia Barfield) and an agmg pitcher (Geor c ale rnaior ge first 1ern to be a t the record for single-season wins the year before h ) on pace . e l~o;e yO n the movie 's box was a p~c~re _of the woman m m y living room sneereor · bl t Clooney, who was sliding into home plate. Her thumb was cocked • adora Ya wg h ho ulder to say Yer outta th ere! Beneath the picture, Mike Clark of USA over er s . ,, up d· "Lydia Barfield hits a home run! Today rave • . .

Galaxia spread out on the living room floor, rubbing her hands and legs th e rug I fetched a glass of iced tea for her, explained again that we didn't ac ross · smoke, and Caroline brought a blanket from the bedroom. I started the movie.

Caroline said: "Lydia, we're going to step into the kitchen for a second, ou okay in here?"

"Can I take a bath?"

"In a little bit. Look, your movie's coming on."

Galaxia cooed. I stood in the kitchen doorway, holding the door open so e could see the top of her head at the end of the hall.

Caroline seemed unable to take her eyes off her. I said: "What's the plan

"I don't know, what are your thoughts?"

"We could call the cops."

Caroline winced. "That seems harsh, though. We could pick up her car an d ge t her cell phone. There's gotta be somebody looking for her."

.

"Yeah, but are they going to want to leave the concert? They're probably JUst as fucked up. And it's letting out soon." Caroline puckered her lips to the side f her face and squinted: her thinking face.

"What do yo u think she's on?" I asked.

"S he's rubbing herself all over everything so Ecstasy maybe. Gotta be something 1 ' J -;i F fu k' · e se, too, though, she's totally lost. What'd she say about eSus. or c s sake I b h

" · et t e concert was awesome."

er , 1 guess we could just ask her," I said, looking down the h all. Galaxia h ad arrn s stretch d • li fi - 1 chuckled: 'Maybe sh .e up ove r her head, giggling at her w1gg ng mgers. e has so m e left."

I felt the t I I ked at Ca ro lin e. he sm i . ernp eratu re 1n the room drop befor e eve n °0

I c: clea red from h f I h Id

I ,yd ia," Ca ro lin e ye ll ed w at?"

''What . a re yo u on?"

"The oor. · · d

"Uh we had some E this morrung an then there was thi ' kind ,, s Othe d f little blue pill of some • t Stuff 1 , never hear o , . d

I h ed Caroline smiled. It was not a friendly srnil s rugg · e. She Yell f ;>" ed: ''ls there any le t.

"No I'm sorry. I've got some pot. You want some?"

I u~hed it-I shouldn't have but I did. I said: "Sure." p " Gal . d "b

"I don't have any papers, axia sa1 ' ut we could hot kni . . " h h d li . fe it,,

"I've got a pipe I told her. S e a a ttle plastic bag of · d her shorts I was 'expecting good stuff from a big-deal Hollm:eed Stuffed own . .. 'd J vvOod act but the bag smelled like T11u~na at lo~ t1 e. I pr_essed the grimy sprouts int;ess, b land handed it to Galaxia. She flicked her lighter and sucked in h the ow , anded · back. A thin strand of gray spaghetti twirled up from the bud. lt

I turned to Caroline and offered it to her. She stood near th d . e oorwa looked down at me with her lips pursed and her eyes watering. She did , Y_and 'd n t take lt Her hands were balled up at her s1 es.

"No thanks," she said.

I looked at my wife, with her month-old bed head, and her tearin e . . . d b . h c . g yes, shifung like a sha ow oxer 1n er 1avor1te gray sweatpants, and I said: "Lydia Barfield's here."

"No thanks."

"You should."

She swung at me, and I saw myself sprawled out unconscious on Galaxia's lap--1 pictured the actress massaging my wounded head with motherly strokes, bringing me back-but Caroline hit the hand holding the pipe instead. It flew across the room, still smoldering, and cracked against the entertainment center.

''What's wrong?" Galaxia cried out.

I backed up and started to speak, but Caroline wasn't listening.

"Shut up. You should leave." Her palms poised near her ears, waiting for me to try to touch her. ''You should go get the car. Lydia, give him your car keys."

If I left alone, I'd have to walk. But that was fine. I took the car keys. I didn't argue, I just left.

I vacuumed the bedroom floor yesterday morning. I never do that, but 1 did yesterday. Saturday is sort of a cleaning day.

I started the vacuum up, and it hacked and rattled. I turned it over an~ e fo und th l · k d C roline if w e P asttc part that connected the bag was splintered. I as e a had ano ther bag-maybe another bag would stretch. She yelled "I uh no. Inna k " aw zit. She was brushing her teeth.

1 didn't find another bag in the closet but I found the volleyball. d It b 1 d ' · Todd an Z e onge to Caroline's niece Sandy left from the last ume allY oe had visited S d ' ' d h arents actu k · an Ywas obsessed with the volleyball, an er P eit too comfort in .t k . . d f orn then 1 s rac et; like a homing signal it commurucate r

hen li ttl e Sandy was distrac ted, and silenced the moment she tu d h n1 w . . . rne er . ru so methin g el se, so m ethmg p ossibly more hazardous or br k bl S nti o n ea a e. o

d d wn o ur hardwood fl oor s sh e spanked th e ball for maximum th 1;-, a,J1 <' . 1vumr, cre"cly el astic heartbeat th at p o und ed for the fir st two days of th 1 · · • a src,. , e r v1 s1t. g 'fh cn th e vo ll ey ball di sappeared.

Carolin e loo ked all ove r th e hous e with the rest of us, wondering wh ere it d h~ivt: go ne and help~n_g to co n sole little ~andy, but when they were gone she , _ d She laughed v1c10u sly and said we d FedE x th e volleyball to th em O r fesse · . . · . , it w Sand y as a g r aduat10n gift.

Ybe give

1 ro ll ed it o ut of th e close t with my fo o t and bounced it basketball-style th e bathroo m. Caro jjne foa m ed at me to stop-she never wanted to hear that

I 1h11J1.11JljJ again .

Wh en I got to the car, I realized the gas tank was almost empty, and the card was n't in the glove box where it was supposed to be, which meant oline had accidentally put it in her purse (again). So I went back in to get the ,-S card . Caroline had the stereo on by then, blasting loud enough that she could hear it in th e shower.

1 decid ed to drive into town to get a part for the vacuum cleaner. This was like me, to fi ght so hard for the right to vacuum, but I figured if I didn't fix it t I wouldn 't think about it again until 15 minutes before we needed the floor to ciean beca use som eone was coming over. Maybe I had the thought if I fixed thi ng, Caroline would offer to do the actual vacuuming. I don't know. It wasn't me, and Caroline said so after she spit.

The door to the bathroom was ajar, and when she saw me in the mirror, jlae spun around and looked startled. She sputtered, tried to say something, and • voll eyball dropped with a thwump and rolled behind the toilet.

I smiled at her. I was going to tease her about it. But all of a sudden she jllt collapsed in every direction, like a tent that's pulled up from its stakes. She sat on her knees on the floor of the bathroom and bawled.

What I saw was: she'd been standing in the bathroom, getting ready for k shower. Her pants were off, and she was wearing just her T-shirt. She was loking in th e mirror, sort of pulling back away from the mirror to get a look at .fir full-bo dy profile.

She had the volleyball pushed up under her T-shirt. She was looking at herself,_ at th e volleyball under her shirt, her hands back on her hips, her face blank and se n0us.

She mu st have seen me in the mirror because she spun around to look at ine all of a sudd I ' en. was gomg to laugh, but she started crying.

I held her as b 1 · ld tu b d · est - co u , wedged as she was in an awkward spot between an the bath . k rn h roo m sin , but by th e time I g ot a good hold on her she was e s e was fin e d . tried to an trying to s tand up. Sh e pull ed h er arms awa y from m e wipe her eyes d b h . . · r y, ut t ey were still leaking, even though she was fine.

mething to say, but all 1 could think ot- d to ~t.. ,nk o so

' I we uu.

O ka)r," talk ab o ut it. " I n eed to ge t up. I'm-rn l didn ' t want to Y egs h

Sh e " lltt

aslee p. Let me up. , th ey're falling lf o n the tub, got to her feet. She too k a d Sh e brac ed herse . eep breath d opped her eyes with h er palms. tha · waves an m . t came out l.I1 talk about it." Her vo ic e was steadv and cle b

"I don't wa nt to , ar, llt s0 ltl.1 s. erable.

"What . .. wa . .

S th at;:i Why are you cr ying?"

"I don't want to talk about it. "

k ,, "It's o ay. h k d Up and squeaked when she talked. ' Tm so rr v" She c o e ' ; ·

"I , ka y Sweetie. It's okay." I stood up next to her, brushed h b ts o . er an s h c head and kissed at 1t. But she looked at the floor , and I ki s d h g from er 1ore se er hair instead .

In the kitchen I said: "Have you told anybody?" "No."

I didn't have to ask how long she 'd known. That frown reache s down her whole body. It was about two weeks ago, right after Todd and Zoe left. Two weeks, and she'd told no one. I trembled looking back at how long she'd been mulling, floating around the house like a ghost, holding this information prisoner inside of her

I said: ''Are you going to ... what are you going to do? " I knew the right thing to say was something that would convince her that the choice was hers, and I was hers, and she wasn't so trapped. The right thing to do was to convince her it was okay whatever she wanted, but maybe it wasn't.

"I've been trying real hard the past few weeks ," she said, "so . .. hard to feel something besides ... sick, and scared. And yo u know ... nothing so far." Her left hand shot up and shrugged in the air a visual representation of 'nothing so far.'

"It's okay if you want ... want to not have it-"

She shook her head at the ceiling. " You don't mean that."

Of course I didn't. I tried for a while to convince her I did, but finall y she juSc st0PPed talking and said she wanted to be left alone. She went to th e bed room and shut th e doo r. I turned on the TV and sat on the couch.

* * * Litle I k 1 k read a t wo e up to the sound of the toilet flushing. The VCR c oc 011 rrol pa st mid · h I c t1 e remote c mg t . sat up, stretched m y arms. I turned to look ior 1 and saw Caroli · · · • • n e sitting 1n the chair 1n the dark across the room. e with She said· "Y kn . d h yo u ~aw 111 h · o u ow why I started cr ymg to ay w en · h d'' t e vo ll eyball) Th 1 Th 1 ok yo u a . ,, · e ook on yo ur face when yo u saw m e. e O 00 nd-

"I w · · ss1ng ar as tr ying to laugh it off. I though t yo u were iu st me

, 111 ll you had this look. And . .. I w ant yo u t 1 '\'ve ' . thi B o oo k at rn h c l that way about s. ut ..." she gathe d h e t at way. /\ I t to iee "I . d , ' re er self look 11< I waI1 th rears came, 1ust on t. And I m scared I , cd Uh ,tt tr . as e won't E ,, ic ceiW1~ rold anyone yet, and I already feel left out. E verybod '~ _. ~er. Yo u kn, ,w, f haven t , you're going to be so hnhh 11." y goin g t< > be ~<1 y0 u re • · · . -r.rJ btJPPY. We sat in the dark f~r a Ion~ time together, th e TV castin . , the room, and li ttle b y little I saw her slouchi . g different cr >l,>r htS across ng into the ch, ,.,. lig turned off the TV and helped her to bed. air hn,d ly, I got up,B t she didn't lie there long. She took a bath and I . u WaJted up fo r h e but I fell asleep. er a Jong run ,

The ground in the orange groves was uneven and mad h 'kin e 1 g slow. I had Pevery twenty feet or so to untangle myself from a net of · N . to sto vmes. o ram yet, but the air felt so heavy, so ready, that when the wind blew I could hear the sound of rain in the treetops. When I made it to the road on the other side of the grove, I saw right away just ~here Galaxia had given up finding an entrance to the highway and taken to wandenng on foot. Up the road, a shiny black SUV lay on its driver's side in the sand beside the road, like a giant toy discarded in a sandb ox

I gave the SUV a hard shove on the roof but it barely moved at all . The corner of the front bumper was fully submerged, either from impact or drift. The sunroof, the driver's escape hatch, was open, and the contents of the car had spilled out into the weeds: coins, empty cans of Heineken, and Lydia Barfield's white leather purse, turned ass-end up in the pile of shattered glass where her driver's side window used to be. I shook it out, but there wasn't much left inside-some makeup, an empty pack of Marlboros, but no phone.

I popped open the center console. A small, vinyl carrier tumbled ou t, "Nokia" stenciled on its side. On top of it landed a sandwich bag, tied into a double knot at its top to hold in a pile of white powder.

I picked it up and tapped it on the side. I took a long sniff of it, an~ it smelled familiar-that tinny, dusty smell that made the lining in m y throat bnS t1e ao d my groin twitch. Three, maybe four grams left inside. .

It wasn't so long ago this situation would have worked out differen tlr: L di hi lit thy a Barfield blasted out of her mind in our living room, a bag of w te to sp_ ree way hil . h CD Ii ten to ne xt . like tha . s w e we spent the day figuring out whic to s h t tune C lin . h ball for finals and w en th aro e and her roommate Tammy got an eig t ' .th h e tests w fi . · partment w1 t e Ill ere rushed, the three of us locked ourselves in m y a . h bill ound of I f . h much an e.1g r really ,,, e tovers. (Neither of them had any idea iu st ow 1 · th "rl tht' was· I · k d onge t ,, Weekend ,b tried to warn them.) The three of us, all wee en . .d.· d~wn " -i rh the' bong d' ecause we all called in sick Monday, spent all da y wm mg an sorne Th On1 . a1 takeout. Id bv rhe rok t' t 'l'a111rny. A.ny torught, beautiful and talented Lydia Barfield wou p ·

f'L d rnaybe we'd get pizza instead.

k th . co n~t1k pur lt'.now. b I h h b g bac , in t: ' u t. ose were different times. I put t e a

started back towards the ho use.

Ga ax.1n

. m,· po c et 1 ,, ·._ phone U1

. th driYeway, J h eard the ste r eo blaring, b ut the lacii

Walking up e beats I h eard voi ces in the bathroo m es Weren't . 1i room. Between ' . . P hil . in the Vlflg . d "Art histo ry with a nu.no r ill o so phy. Orm b Caroline sa.i , ay e E nglish. " d with that? "

"What do yo u o

" Be an artistic housewife, I guess. And I didn't finish it annva - I l J, eft last year to get married." ;i I reallv wish I'd finished co ll ege o

''Are you gonna go b ack. - . r Went to a.il " college I just re y- . .

' "N Larry got this job m Barstow, and he lov es 1t, the compan. 6 a. . . ) su -con.

c h state so he's meeting all the nght people , beaucoup m o ne y Th tracts 1or t e , . . · e coin.

. t ve us this house. More important things to spend mone y on th pany JUS ga an a use.

I ' d " less bache ors egree.

"Caroline, look at me. I want to tell yo u something, reall y and trul v 1 , inaner isn't everything."

"Sometimes it is."

I knocked on the wall and stepped into the bathroom. Caroline was usino b the toilet as a lawn chair, wearing Galaxia's sunglasses. to her ears in cheerful white bubbles. Our guest was in the tu b, up

"Ha-a-a-y!" Galaxia shrieked when she saw me. My pipe rested beside her on the edge of the tub, the bowl blackened, a line of white foam dripping from the mouthpiece down towards the floor.

"That was quick," Caroline said. She was smiling.

''Wasn't too far away."

"I'm taking a bath."

"I see that."

Galaxia produced a pair of goggles from somewhere in the bubbles and went about the tricky business of stretching them across her wet hair and face. Through the bubbles I saw a pair of cherry-red breasts that would have cost me about $10 million to glimpse on a normal day.

"Hey," I said to her, "did you wreck your car?"

"Uh, yeah."

Caroline laughed. "Lydia shit! You wrecked your car?" . ·de

"It' b' ' d frorn in51

s no ig whoop. I have another one." She blinke at us the wet goggles. th h r rnou

"Yeah but . h ,,, . h r knees, e . ' Is It ere,: Caroline rested her elbows on e gaping open. . for

o. It's no b· · " G • d vis1 Y thing iggie. alaxta went blank for a secon ' rer

"N 'bl wait1og

s to stop bei b' · · the wa · dop . ng a iggie, then she stuck her face down into d Jooke

Caroline p ll d th f h nose an ,es at me a d c u e e sunglasses down to the end o er rJ bro\Vfl e)

, n ior a mo I b I per ment was sure she'd helped fry the ow·

;ul d excited , an d she h ad a silly, sexy grin. But h .

\rer didn't smell . She was 1u st aVl.Ilg fun

~he f

- I dug the ph o n e out o m y pocket. The li ttle wind h ow s owed e ing in a boat und er the words: NO NEW MESSAGE a cartoon of .rn an sle p th b li ' S. a I crolled down e num ers st. 'What name am I l kin s _ . oo g for?"

T he goggles were oft, and Galaxia was sculpting som thin e gout of the

''Uh " her he ad turned towards me, but her gaze sta d 1 k bubbles. ' ye oc ed on some . r in the suds.

poin "Lydia!" Caroline yelled.

"Um ... call m y PA, Veronica."

Th e first name in the contact list. I walked out and turned th The line rang and rang. I paced back into the bathroom.

"Veronica's not home."

"fuck. Fuck, fuck." Galaxia splashed in frustration.

''Anybod y else we can call?"

"She 's probably busy, we can just keep trying back. No biggie."

I pushed the button to hang up the phone. "Maybe she's out of town, huh? You were going away for the weekend."

Galaxia seemed to be thinking of a response, but then she leaned back in the tub and pulled a blanket of bubbles over her.

"Do you have a publicist?" Caroline said. "Yeah."

"I bet he would love to hear from you right now."

"Oh. Okay. Saqir Almeida, he's on the contact list."

I pushed the buttons. Caroline said to me: "Let her have the phone."

I shrugged and handed the phone to Galaxia. She dried a hand on the towel beside the tub.

She said: "Saqir? It's Lydia. Hello? Hello? It's me. I had some car trouble at that concert and I can't get ahold of Veronica. Well, I don't know ..." She covered the receiver and said to us: "Where did, where did Jay go?"

"You got separated," Caroline said.

Into the phone: "We got separated-hmm? Oh, that's Caroline and Harry th d l th ' ey gave me some water and let me take a bath ... God wante me to eave ehconcert, so I left to get some cigarettes and I got lost in the oranges. Okay, yea " Sh ' · e stretched the phone towards us. "He wants to talk to you." took the Caroline's hand had gone out the second Galaxia had mentioned God. She know h phone and said: "Hello? This is Caroline ... well, you know what we ' s e wreck d h ' .1 J b th okay if e er car and walked to our house ... oh, shes wonus etter an ' you catch my drift."

" Caroline d . li cl 'Appare tl st00 up and walked towards the hall, lowering her voice a t e. · n Yshe t k ·th h end Jay, and th 00 so~e E cstasy . . . She says she went to t~e concert Wl ~r ell Phone ey met his friends out there ... well, she doesn t have any of th eir nurnbers , h ' lied so 'we re not sure they have cell phones, and Jay asn t ca

chi k he 1 ·ust "-enr ho me . . bu r le t's . . Oka. th · ther n s • · ), at ' .t-,tr .,0 mr guess 15 . · _ 1-es '"Je a-iving you dire c ti o ns ro 11ry house s one , - oo n un o , ,, c-no oprion. .-\nother op - almost over, and if you won't come o ut and pick h . no k Sa ir Sunda\ is th , fi er up I lo o , 9 , · 1 h o will . great . . at s me . . o-ot a pe ....,, , · · · eop e w · · o n:ber I can find some Pth eiver. "No offense, Lydia, bur I' m so su re we'r

She covered e rec h " e gonna to fuckin g Malib u rorug t. drn-e ~-o ur ass . . d f ;vn " Is he giving yo u a proble m ? G ive me th h

Gala.xi a me to ro\: . . . . ,, e p one.'' . pen I'm givrng him direcn o ns.

''No he 's gerong a , . . . . '. the next few minutes giving direcn o ns to our house f

Caroline spent · . rom bank She assured Saqir there was no b1g rush and we were all downtown Bur . h d )Ust . me music for a few hours, th e n s e rapped the pho ne on th aomg to listen to so e b il of Galaxia's clothes on the floor. . p e "Galaxia," Caroline said, " I think it's time to get out of the rub."

''Already?"

"Yeah, you're gonna get pruney. And I've got some vanilla-scented exfoliating body lotion with your name on it." Caroline took from the linen closet our fuzziest bath towel and hung it over her shoulder. She looked at me and smiled. ''You want to help exfoliate a Best Supporting Actress?"

"Nominee," I told her.

At the mention of bod y lotion, Galaxia stared up from her bath as though Caroline were the merciful, angelic hand of God. Which, of course, she is.

Galaxia stood with her arms stretched out to the sides, giggling, naked as a buck as Caroline dried her every spot. Then we went into the living room and Galaxia sat on the floor, leaned against Caroline in the chair. Caroline braided Galaxia's long hair, and I rubbed on the body lotion.

We were listening to Loade~ and when she recognized it, Galaxia cheered and told a story about how she once made out with Lou Reed. This led into a less relevant story about meeting the Dalai Lama-she didn't make out with him, but s~e found him surprisingly sexy-and that led to a story about how good Moby is wich numchucks. It was tough to get a word in, but Caroline soon found the right ~hy~m and became skilled at guiding the course of the rambles with a quick interjection. She managed to keep the stories involving celebrities at least, kept Galaxia away from the · b' d h moist su Ject of the boyfriend from high school who had love er ten years before sh b th

e ecame e hottest actress in Hollywood.

When she was pr p l r li b thing Point c li O er Y ex10 ated and her latest story reached a rea

, aro ne asked if h h d ·f he wanted a b h s e was ungry. Galaxia said no, but when I aske 1 5

eer, er eyes got h d h

"D , uge an s e stood up.

on t get too ex .t d " I

"Th b b . Cl e , told her, "it's only Miller High Life."

e est eer in the Id" C

Galaxia did , wor , aroline said.

n t care "Ki k f:' t stn ell of vanilla h · c ass." Naked but for the braids and the a111 h , s e ran to th f . u· c in eac hand. e re ngerator. She came back with a High ie

"Caroline, you've be en so good to me all day-"

, e been a ood to m e, L nli a.' '

,cy0 u v b ·

r..r a beer with me ."

''r.1ave ' ,,

"I can 't. Really. I can t.

, e1.vri. , n ot? Oh come o n , yo u told m e yo u use d to d o all ki d

-w 11) . v '11 b bl n sa cra zy shit . 'll be like old tun es .1 o u e a e to say yo u go t dr k . h . ' io college, it un wu Lydia Barfield. '' I 'd 1 h d

"I . . _I really, to ve to ... you ave n o 1 ea-but I can 't. " ;>"

"Why not.

"I uh ... well , L ydia, bec aus e . . . I'm pregn ant ."

It ~as as though Galaxi a h ad just found out she was pregn an t, and then ·ven birth in the same instant. She jumped up and down and g rabb ed Carolin e by gi "Oh My. God. You're not reall y " the arms. ·

"I am."

"Oh that's so wonderful. I'm so happ y for you. "

"Of course you are. "

"Congratulations. Oh, that's so great. I want kids so bad. You 're gonna make a great mom. How far along are you?"

"Um, I haven't been to the doctor yet, but a few weeks at least. Just found out for sure a couple weeks ago. "

"Really? Wow. So have you told everybody?"

''Actually, except for Larry, you're the first person to know." "Seriously?"

"No shit. Larry just found out yesterday."

Galaxia turned to me, put her hands on my face. She had to blink tears away to look me in the eye. "You must be so happy."

''Yes," I said. ''Very."

Galaxia pulled me towards Caroline so she could hug us both. Caroline looked at me and smiled-or rather she seemed to be smiling but her face was still. She said: "It will always be true that Lydia Barfield knew I was pregnant before anyone else."

"Oh, that's so great." Galaxia pressed us into a huddle and squeezed.

of the . 1.gathered every pillow I could find and made a spongy fort in the middle of u living room floor while Caroline finished braiding Galaxia's hair. The three s stepped ·d h uld b srnok' outsi e one last time because Galaxia didn't think she s O e she fi ~~ghpot in th e house where th~ baby would be and dressed in Caroline 's rob e, '-'llS ed off . ' 'ness. B k a final bowl in between swigs of her beer and hopes for our h appt ac in side · 1 lik Warni ho ' we curled up together on the living room floor m a P1 e e th usecats d d e radio a d ' an G alaxia told us about going to the Oscars. Then I turn e on 1t w n We expl · d • 1: hil becaus e as tim e fo r aine to Galaxia that she had to b e qw e t 1or a w e, Thzs A merican Life.

Kristi Rhoades

St. Ives, England

In White

ber my wife in white. I remem ber her laughter on our wedding day I remem . ,

d I member the silence of her anger echoing thr h An re . . oug the hous mber the tilt of her head when she laughed e. J~me , eases in her forehead when she frowned ~CT , the redness of her c~ee~s when she cried.

1remember her learung m to me for a kiss. I remember the way she felt tangled up in me. I remember the way she smiled at me, the way her words could pierce my ears while they numbed my heart. I remember her skipping, her head thrown back in laughter, Her screaming and jumping up and down to throw a baby fit. That she was a pretty girl, but didn't always act that way. I remember her dancing in the rain, jumping in puddles, and staring into space so intently it hurt me to look at her. I remember her confidence, her insecurities, and most of all, her anger. I remember her thirst for life, her hunger for knowledge, and her complete devotion to everything she did.

1remember her depression, her trepidation, her dread of what was to come.

1remember her last days.

l remember her in white.

I rememb

S.. er my wife in red. seething . ' pure, red anger. uch inte b round her.

A. nse anger it almost hurt my soul to e a Anger at everything.

nger at h . . the . ·erself, her situations conse ,

B.vtryth · quences of her choices. t v 1ng she saw eryth ' , l•'. ver th'.ng she read, y ing she did.

I remember her in red.

I remember my wife in blue. .

b her crv-ing into the pillow and me not knowing what to d I remem er ; ~. . o.

I remember her pounding her fists mto the gro~d until_her knuckles bled. I remember her screaming so mtently I had to pick her limp body up off the ground and shake her. That she was melancholy, then upset, and then depressed. I member the months of depression and tiptoeing around that would r ll re of our arguments.

I remember being afraid to approach her, afraid to touch her, afraid to even love her as much and as fully as I did. I remember holding her as she shook so violently it made her sick. I remember wondering if I would ever learn how to make her feel better. I remember watching her eyes fill with tears slowly, and then watching her leave the room, only to hear the door lock and the sobs begin. I remember her in blue.

I remember my wife in black.

I remember counting the days she didn't get out of bed.

I remember being afraid to go to work.

I remember standing outside the bathroom door and counting how long until I could hear the water running.

I remember waking in the night to find her back turned to me.

I remember reaching out, only to find her body shaking with sobs.

I remember her asking the questions. Preparing me for her death.

I remember her wanting me to be okay.

I remember my wife in black.

I remember my wife in white.

1 remember her singing, her head clan · 1 cmg a ong to the rhythm of the song.

I remember her speaking th ' e way her words formed on her lips. I remembe h · , her fac e.

r er runrung toward me with joy plastered across

I remember th I

1 e way fell for her the second I saw h er. remember the way she felt.

The way we . I were so alike, yet so different. remember th · f how · bl e gne she brought into my life, 1t anketed 1 d h · me unu I couldn't breathe aroun er.

I

,, 0 ,ert1b<f ch < joy she brought into my lifi t . h I al e . S . li ght so brtg t most couldn't b ear t J "" , o oo k it ' ch

bef che woman I fe ll in love with. n e face,

,, 0 1

, 01

1 ,en ien 1 ber che woman I loved .

1

1 re , 11 embe r the woman I hated.

1 ,cn ien1b er rn)' wife in white,

Bitte rswee t and G rate ful

She dan ces and I dr eam* just li ke her- nothing fo rmal no piro uette s, no plie s simply organic , steaming etherizing and ghastly

floating , no bouncing, no twirling, no spinning in my reddish brown plaid boxers my '94 Grateful Dead t-shirt with the frayed collar solely a remnant dancing bears and moonlight tease me, offering glimpses of the freckle on her left breast (man, I love that freckle)

Closer, farther, in, out navigating masterfully around yesterdays, yesterdays, yesterdays soils and stains scattered about the room

she comes close enough for me to barely touch her next time, next time, next time she comes invite her under collapse morph into a wet heap of mutual molestation lift the blankets and awaken Alone.

*Bitters ( . "Bittersweet weet 1n the tJ.tle) and the first line are from the song Todd and the Monsters

by 131g

Long Shadows

I . '- eiich I co un t lo ng d ragging footprints. () ti t tC u • l nt to a man Th eY po · . . · · t ., pulls him back like a sail, A~we:1t:•

. t wind and curre nt:1~:un :s . · . bl 1,, and white hat fli es away. ht s t " '

1 onc e heard that if you cut an old man open, th ere are meas urable rings. Fro m th e bark to the marrow arc thick beard strands, and hai r of a thinning toupee, inoperable cancer, pacemakers, black licorice, blue blood.

All I find are creases, and one bold vein on his collar' sand on the back of his windbreaker and a fist on a shaking chest. ,

The Last Hard Woman

n widens betwee n us. rhe root . ' 1 r all conversations wrung out, It's c ea t , skirted to save a quarrel. f-Jo nes)

tch the storm approaching hard, I wa Jump at the bamboo stalk snap of thunder. She never flinches.

Lifting the cigarette to her lips, She tells me about her new beau, And I ask her again to quit.

Staring me down, Reading the diary of my eyes, Lighting another Marlboro Red,

She reveals her zodiac prophesy With '40s starlet flair ' the smoke haloing her words: "Perhaps everyone's a critic."

Grandfather's Ghost

I don't know why I'm not able to . There's no reason to be attached. move from this spot. . h I h . . 6 d m window m my house, t at c ose, This 1s iust a e roo

h I ummoned the courage to move onw ere s d th · not happy, not sad, just my freedom an e1rs.

J get glimpses of them as they walk by the room living their lives, doing their chores. Children of my later years. We did not relate much. Wife of my happier years, who did not learn to love. She kept her promise, I kept mine.

There were so many women before, other children too. All existing in harmony, doing their duties. Strong sons with many women and children, married daughters, faithful to unfaithful husbandstraditional bliss in a normal life.

Stubborn heart chose the one who could not love back. Too late she came. Barely older than my eldest children. She settled in the routine of wife and mother ' but no more. I see her pass by less often than the sons, the daughters, the grandchildren, the great-grandchildren. * * *

Extraordinary the child who passed by today for the fir st time. Sh e saw me, she smiled, she waved over the shoulder of the boy \1 h . , 1 · ose arms earned her. I know him-my grandson. I don t recoonj h b h o ze er, ut s e has the face of my youngestthe bab y- m l f · f ;i b"' r O my ow n baby-girl, born shortly a ter.

1 reo-ret not h · h

She wou ld O · aving t e strength to meet this one. ·u ha ve been my favo rite, . l st as I am sure sh . h . chil d, But the b e 18 er.r. The ch ild of ou r most unfortun ate ab y has seen d p h · me, an perhaps that is enough. d I her. er ap s she will remember me and think she kn ew me, an )

Caitelin Sappington

Mast]ucradc

Stars

She e-mails me on Thursdays. I am always behind on m . . Y Work b

n as I see her e-mail, I drop everything and read it. I rush thr h .' Ut as soo . . oug it . fi t and then go back and read 1t slowly. I tell my girlfriend that h 9UlckJy at irs' s e tnea ing to me, that we're just friends fro~ high school and college, but she kn:: noth. not true. When she asks me to prom1se, I look away. s that's

It's worst late at night. As I lay in bed with my arms wrapp d . e around Christina and wait for her to go to sleep, I squeeze my eyes shut and im .

· k f th thin did th agine that I am holding her. I thin o e gs we toge er. Art shows, exhibits Ch . , b thi , poetry readings culture. As soon as r1stma s rea ng evens out and I am su h . ' . re s e is asleep, I slip out of bed. I want to stay in bed, I want to be able to sleep without my nightly excursion, but I know I can't. I go into the spare bedroom in our apartment, reach into the closet, the top sh~lf, and pull out a shoebox. I look at everything in the same order every rught. First I read the letters. I pay special attention to the one she wrote me on our two-year anniversary, the one in which she told me how much she loved me and how much I meant to her. Next, I look at the ticket stubs and programs from her shows. I remember the painting she made of me. I hated it at first because I didn't think it looked like me-it was rough around the edges and I wasn't pretty. Then she kissed me and told me it was me on the inside, and she loved me anyway. Just before the tears start to fill my eyes, I take out the envelope of pictures. There she is, smiling at me. Over and over again. Our first date, her friend's wedding, Christmas at my parents' house, graduation, our first college formal. It's all there. Everything. I am there. She is there. We are so wrapped up in each other that we don't even realize what we are doing to ourselves. And then I fold up the printed e-mail from that day and put it in the bottom of th e b ox with the rest, in chronological order. Some nights I am tired by now, and I go slee p o n the couch. Other nights I read the e-mails. The first one after th e h b th later-s e reakup-her telling me it hurt too much to talk to me. A few mon s b ck in wwn was movmg to Georo-ia. And finally 1·ust a few weeks ago, she was a .d J o£ ' ' . ood 1 ea. perma nentl y and wanted us to meet. I told her I didn t think it was a g sleep. . li · room to put eve r ythrng m the same place in the box and then go to the vmg , av rhc

C h . . . k d she cant p ,

n strna knows I don't love her, but the sex 1s o ay an . doesn't r~nt hy he rself, so we have a pretty good setup. I pay for everything; sh; \1 st sit on bitch , h . . . . h or when 1 at m e w en l go for days without saying anything to er, . b t 111 t1, e th thi ki g a ou . '

e couch , so hi gh I can barely talk She knows what I am · 0 · 11 ' hardl y ki 5s 111 ~ 1 mornjn g wh " I I k d . . . d h t the doo t . k M'c - en oo 1stracted m the kjtchen an r us ou f 111 wor ' 1 her h h ome ro d t ,c on t e cheek. Sometimes I am still in bed when she gets . she foun she do ' • ith her. es n t even say an ything. She knows I am st1ll rn love w

1.1!1 d her no. ve ever h d b bot d1rol h r or the box, and I told her I didn't think h a a out it.

d hen we were moving to the apartment Sh be w f h . . e wanted t thr der 111Y We had one o t e biggest fights we' 0 ow it

llf1 ·r was e s e wanted otit, Jd me 1 She blinked back tears and started to tak th 6 to give She to .;111atu!l1· 'd , e e ox to he

.1,,at tJlv..- her because I di n t want her to look in it Sh r car, eIJ' · from . · e would o Jtl I rook it . . to something that it really isn't. Just like she d . veranabt1t . ake it 1D oes With our rela't-.......-111

]J1Ze J . : 11sh1P' vo . l I . l d s when I am m c ass, Just et the kids do nothin I h 50 rne ay . . g. ave them . all express emotion. Some of them think I am crazy 6 t £ rcisttc y . . . ' u a ew acturr)' to a d the point of the assignment. They usually Just paint col d . ~m

aJ]yuJl few do sculptures, but they are nothing compared to hers. She could shap:s;ything, and you wo~d kn~w wh~t- emotion went with it. She sculpted me sculP there for hours, silent, JUSt waiting for her to be finished I adrrur· d th e I sat . · e e one · unt of paint in her hair and above her eyebrow. but no matter how I small arno ' d he wouldn't let me see what she had sculpted. When she was finished begge,s . . ' ok a shower, and we ate dinner. She never let me see it. She debuted it at a she to Sh 11 d . "H . " I l all a cew weeks later. e ca e it appmess. t ooked nothing like me but g ery 11 • '

Iknew exactly what it was. There is one boy 1n my class whose paintings really remind me of hers, and he tells me that he writes, too. I invite him to go to one of her exhibits with me. He seems excited, but says he's never heard of her. I almost envy him.

I usually don't go back to the apartment after work. I don't like looking at Christina and knowing what I could have instead of her. Sometimes I go to bookstores and browse-looking for the books we listened to on tape during the long trips to her mom's house in Cape Cod. Sometimes I go to a coffee shop and order my usual, and just imagine what I would say to her in' my next e-mail if I didn't think she would read it. Sometimes I just ride the subway around town and watch p~ople. Two days ago I saw her on the subway with a friend we knew in college. I didn't recognize her at all, but I knew it was her when I heard her laugh. She had her head thrown back her hair glistening and she was laughing without restraint. Sh di . .' ' e d everything without restraint. I just pulled my hat lower and sank deeper in to the Wh d · . seat. en we got off at the same stop she accidentally bumpe mto me with her 6 W ' · Sh l d , ag. hen she turned around to apoloo-ize I looked at her lips. e rn anew · . b~ , _ th piercing. She didn't recognize me and I didn't say anything because 1 (JUgh t l t l ' d' b awkw wou d be awkward for her. Later it would be because it wouJ ve een ard form e.

When she d · . . k d h . ·f -he thought she Was in love was atmg someone m Georgia, I as e et ' s . , thought sh. She told me no, she didn't think so. I asked her why, and she sa1~;':e have to b e Was afraid to love now. Right then, I wanted to teU her that she dt n t w e, I still 1 d purple sheets, atch rn . ove her, we could move back in together, get new ovies at · h · Sunday rug t, eat ramen noodles in bed, and finger paint on

But I was a fraid of m yself. I didn't tru st rn ,

l.i k ·e used to. .d f ythi d th }self I . morni ngs ·e w ·dn 't think sh e was afra.1 o an n ~ a~ at love must . /Ust

\\·rote her cha t I di d stand it. After that, we didn t talk about l be re~11 . e didn't un er . . re atio "-ll~• fucked up if sh h s music job s, anything we can think of to avoid th nships

1g

\X e ralk about her s ow ' th little stuff b ecause we know nothing Could b e big . - \X'e 1·ust talk about e e as b· JS!:i U e.

as us.

,.,;..,crs I walk aro und the ci ty. I like to do it ea 1 . 0 Saturday m or1.1.1.ub . r y 10 th n h had time to clean up the city from the nio-ht b c e . b fo re they ave o eiore I morrung e h 1. It remind s m e o f wh at I left behind. r like t · t k e feel melanc O Y· · 0 Punish ma es m t allery where th ey are shoWlilg some gran dma's ph

lf I go to an ar g . otos. Th myse · f h andkids which 1s a little too cheer y for me, but the th e first ones are o er gr ' . n ey . d k lleys and empty room s. I wonder what h er life wa s lik I switch over to ar a e. 'f h alked around the city alone on Saturday aftern oons. I wond wonder 1 s e w . . er What 1 will be like at that age. I head to th e market. Chns~a calls my cell phone. I turn it off, shove it deeper into my bag, and dread going back to the apartment even more. I m ake it a point to go to some of our old hangouts. At first I told myself it would help me get over h er, but now I know that I just need to remember her. I need to remember the good parts of our life, so I don' t go too far over the edge.

J sit at a restaur an t long after I have finished my dinner, jus t thinking about her. I remember when we used to get bundled up in layers of clothes deep in winter and walk around the ritzy part of the city looking at Christmas lights on houses. I used to tell her I would always love her and nothing would ever happen to us. W e would pick out a h o use that we liked, make up a story for ourselves, and plan our future. We were going to teach in the same school, plant trees in o ur backyard, read in the park on Saturdays, drive hybrid cars, and be environmentalists. When we got home, she would make us hot chocolate with an o d d number of marshmallows and as k me to tell h er a story. I would tell her stories of the lazy Saturday afternoons we would know in the future. The sto ries never ended without us counting the stars before we went to bed. It wa s always a dream of ours. We never had to wish on the stars because our live s would be perfect without wishes. 1 can't even see the stars in the city.

When I met Christina, I liked her because she was different. She was a . .

d ~m~li st , drove an SUV, had her n ails done, liked things to be neat, and wante to live In the ity h h 1 li.c , bsessed c er w o e 1e. Her work consumed her, and she wasn t O with her aspirati .c th fi bl rns 1D the ons ior e uture. She wasn't concerned with the pro e world only O d ·d he was 6 .' ur own, an she knew I was telling her the truth when I sai s d ehi~unful because she thought it, too. I loved her because her life was black an t w te. There wer . b x it wen l·nt h . e no neons to it. It was good or bad and whatever O •a1 o t at 1s wh · ' ers1 issues Sh ere 1t stayed. She didn't like to talk about politics or controV t. e was easy t I

· afl v u.na tached h O P ease and hard to piss of£ She was emotion 1 to t e world Th . · ese are the things I hate her for now.

runent around midnight. The lights are all off whi h the apa , c t back to . ally goes out on Saturdays, and she always leaves a 1ge isona usu . use Chr d to think it was for me. I walk mto the apartment, take d beca lf I use th li . I . 0d , berse · nd head into e vmg room. switch on the lamp and is fl for the door, a ' . light o off at f the room. Its then that I notice the clothes strewn about 1)1 sh0esthe barene~s O of them, black flats, Christina's purple miniskirt but o e at ze some . . ' cr111g J recogtU f ded 1·eans and a black T-shirt. I pick up the clothes and oofil· d n't- a r}1e r f thetll I O them in two piles on the couch. The pile I know, but .,,e O leaving I h b k d · sow 6 ld thetll, il I will never know. put my s oes ac on an walk mto oeatlY 1 di~do't, and tbeFp e the top shelf of the closet I pull down the shoebox. I sh rom . ,vi are bedroo!Il· ff my key ring and leave it on the dresser. I clutch the box thesp ent key o . th . 111yapartrn th looking back, go back out mto e city rught. I have to rake nd W1 out [llychest, a I can see the stars. to l ce where find aPa

Rhoades

Imitation Leads to Nowhere

Awall and the scrape of steel ,rret wood: on "" we wage war on nature's firm heel, yank 0ur dead {ram orange wind and red water.

Arake and the scrape of tin on wet grass: we clawat nature's dead skin, arrange lawns likethe parts in our hair.

I(ubla I<han Part Deux

lf Kubla Khan slipped down past time and fell into today, he'd gorge himself at pizza hut and die the slim fast way. Alph, that sacred river, is a s.ickly toxic green and once-fertile banks are covered by inky texaco streams. You seek that hill and dale, now stuffed with suburban seed, those gardens of that fabled place are choked with modern weeds. Xanadu's commercializing; gone are vast and icy halls. Now neon does the mesmerizing, your pleasure- d o m e's a mall.

Beware! Beware! Ye Ku bla Khan this mountain dew is not for you, your paradise is lost.

He Found a Fourth Wa rp Whistle

I've b ee n wor king on my Star Wa rs fan-fiction fo r a while now. Don't yo u give me that loo k. You won't see me hanging out in cantina s, Or even as some backgro und ch ara cter, And Picard will never show up on the scene. I like to think I have m ore integrity than that. I still haven't decided, though, Who'd win in a fi gh t b e tween Super Mario and Darth Vader.

A Singular O cc as io n

I rarced with Plu to, th e dink y little plan et with 1t . r s . s even dinki e

The cold little lump had orbited the sun for billi· f r moo n, on- · ons o years Ch:1r . s of life or ho ping fo r an y. Reall y it wa s rath b. ' neve r show. . nr sign . ·' er a ltte r pla W , J!lg'1 • r to be a pl anet! O h yea h , It had bee n one of N , net. asn t n rn ea n . eptun e s moo n eve stupid co met, passing at so m e stupidl y odd angle h d s ~ne e. Bur some . ' a sent poo r littl e

I ·cling awa y fro m 1ts ho me pl an e t to beco me a planet a1J • pJuro 1u1 Its own. Charon

I ck)' stray as teroid th at go t tak en al o ng for th e rid e was a u . .

So Plu to sulk ed and Charon ruml essly orbited ab o ut th 1 h . e P anet w en Jt h Pened. Suddenl y, th e sull en little pl anet was no lo nge r th ere' In t l ap . . · · 1 s p ace was a larg~yellow dog with flopp y black ears , appro:x1mately th e sam e siz e as the J h d . . p anet h d been Befor e Ch aron a tun e to wonder at this tran sfiorm ati·on ( a · can an aste roid/ moo n wonder an ywa y?) it underwent a similar one. No longer was the re an asteroid / moon , now th ere was a large wooden boat with a depre ssed man in it. Charon felt duped; Pluto was a big happy-go-lucky dog, and he was just a grim man. Those were the breaks, though.

Of course no one on Earth noticed this . Pluto wa s little more than a pinprick of light to the men who scurried about on its surface, and spotting Charon was even harder (if they even bothered trying to spot it). Men really· are an unobservant lot, actually. Neptune became a man with a trident, Uranu s elonga ted into abig blue patch of what might have been sky, Saturn turned into a farm er, Jupite r into a tunic-clad man with a laurel crown and thunderbolts in hi s hand s, and Ma rs into a funn y-looking man with a spear and an odd helm et before an!·one noticed anything. Well , the astronomers had noticed back around Saturn , but ea ch thought tbeir colleagues were pulling an elaborate prank on th em. But wh en M~rs not onl y changed shape but ceased to be a little red dot in th e sky, eve ryone realized sometbing was genuinely amiss. .

P • , tl.on Paruc covered a aruc covered the streets! Actually, thats an exaggera · few ob . u1 · kn w little about what servatones here and there but the general pop at1on e . Was g · ' th · t nt things that omg on and cared less. There were too many o er unpor a . .

Were ha . . Mi Ar enrma had 1ust 6 pperung, like the Miss Universe pageant, where ss g 6 . he een di s lifi Sh .d he was a rwo, ut s wa qua ted for lying about her dress size. ( e sru s s really a fourl) . · · m.munm

E . b the scient1fic co . tried -mails flew b ack and forth across the glo e as di on and a few to figL Af; much scu ss1 fried Ire out what the heck was gomg on . ter . th at ther had comput th conclus10n abs 01 ers, the scientific community came to e . Utely n .d fi rmat1ons. .. 0 1 ea what was causing these odd trans O d to be ob sernng

As I k er happene uc would have it an amateur astronom '

d thi time H e watch ed as a co upl e of lump

·d belt aroun s · Y as t·c: r • the astero1 f lump y potato es and too k so me gr eat pict ure , 01ds d a couple o s o f th rurne into 1 puter and sent th em to aJJ th e scie ntists h , k c,11. I I d them into us com . .. c new scanne . all th scientists studied th e ph otog raph s. 1 hey were 1 · Frantic y, e 'd h 1 Oc cl. lt c tions of th e astero1 s, t ey saw a sma l pock et o f igh, b fi the trans1orma b . h bl' d' space e ore th l ked quit e weird. I t was n g t, rn .tn gly so but , ,·1ght th em at oo , - srn all S nex t to . ld 't ven be measured by any stand ards o n Eart h. Slo l . '-'> all that Jt cou n e . w Y , th . sm ., th d ned on the scientists. Som e sh o ok th eir fi sts and cur sed . e horrible tru aw . h d Th . d the f E. · Others 1ust shook theu ea s. e mor 1nately itnpr b name o mstem. o ab le had happened. f l · ·

E. t in is known for two different sets o re at1v1 ty equ ati ons. S .· ms e pec1 al rel th E = MC 2 most are familiar with. However, th e equa tions that at1v1ty ts e · ·Were din th e scientific commuruty into a state of shock were th e general relaa· . sen g · , VJty equ ation s These were a group _of equations wit~ many solutions th at dealt With gravity and its effects on the uru~erse. ?ne solution postulated an area of sp ace with no volume but infinite density. This came to be known as the black hole. At fir st, it was thought to be nonsense, but over time so much evidence for it s exi stenc e piled up that black holes were almost thought to be a certainty now. The singularity at the heart of a black hole was a terrifying thing. Here, th e wondrous laws of physics broke down, and scientists could postulate little about what happen ed there. An ything could happen at or around the singularity of a black hole Luckily fo r the universe at large, all black holes came with an event horizon that cut th em off from the rest of the universe. We just couldn't have these little buggers running around and breaking the laws of physics could we?

Bu t .. .

Th ere was another solution to the general relativity equations that dealt with bl ack holes

If just th e right conditions were met A pl uc ky little black hole could form Witho ut an eve nt horizon

The chanc e of it happening, though, was somewhere around one in so me Outrageo usly Bi g Number. Quite small, would never happen. And if it did happen , th ~ chanc e that the thing wo uld find its way anywh ere n ear Ea rth was eve n s~allcr . N() thin g to wo r ry about! E xc ept, well, Mars was n ow a funn y littl e man with a spea r and a helm et.

Pani c did covc·r th , . · 11 :im.:d n1 . e streets now, after th e sc1ent1fi c co mmunity ma ' t°' translate the ir ttc hn I hhl h , ·s :i nd cL . <na c to t c wo rld leade rs. Pres id ent s, pnm c m1ni !-- tct.' ct.at.ors auke plead d · ·h h · . . . 11ing

, · e wit · t cir sc ienti sts to fi nd so me way to avo id the co t C cata strop he f he an s . h I r d1:1 r ld b · wer wa s t e same fro m all o uarte,·s· tl1c re was no r ,mg ·· co u e d T h . ., ' .. tl1c11 one. e pres 1d d · . . I vs tP re · · ents an prim e m1n1 ste rs went to brea k t 1c ne,, · J specu ve peo ples whil h d ' boo keu

' e t e ictato rs fi rst kill ed t heir sc ientists and then

• 1 s,., ~,c<.: s hurrlt: rh <.: n<.:>< · · .c · f h

cl' 1,, s un 1 1i,ni ng o l th <.: trnn s wrm atton s o t e pJanets an d the t .d

111,14 1Hing r ,c . . as ero1 s,

· • , 1 le 10 pn..:d1 c r when the.: srnguJanty would pass Ear th Th 1

. •f s W<.: f l ,I) e pan -

1, C sc icnrJ s · 1 •nr y- four hour s. It wa s an odd twenty- four hours for the P 1 r . iun< rw <.: . . eop e. er 111,d ,,, < 1 s()nH..: got sober, and so me went skyc:Living. Had to get in ever _

50111 c W 1, > li s t hdor<..: r·hc Bi g One hit.

, 1 drun < , · . . Y

. li fo 's t<> < '

rh1ng 011 1 • bc..:for<..: 1. cro hour, everyone st.opped what they were doing and s ecotl( s .

I ' ' rh c sky. /\ bright li g ht filled the Earth and its people cowered in fear.

1,,ukc< '' . g r-o h ~Lppcn to their beloved planet (and their beloved selves);> A Wh'1r WflS go 1J1 . ' . ·ed and thcn anothe r. Suddenly, the light was gone and the people

m<> 1 ·h .- ,. r:.:yr:.:s . ' I<> everyones surpnse and d elight, nothing had changed. The rubbcL I er ,.. J 1 · · . . .. were rnthcr floored. fhe on y exp anatlon they could think of was that sc rcnrr sts .

,11 cnr pass ' . . . .

• 1 ·twas so kooky to bcgm w1th, not even a black hole amok could make it rhr s pane ' .. worsc.

Peace:.: co vcrr:.:cl the Earth as everyone celebrated their new-found wellhc.:ing. Venus turn ed into a lovely lady, and Mercury into a guy with wings on his ht, but no onr:.: notic ed, not eve n the scientists this time. Everyone was just too happy and rclicvc.:d to be alive.

Thr:.:n the.: sing ul arity passed the Sun. Not much happened: the Sun rc.:mainc.:d substantially the same. There was one important change though; now it was hc.:ing carried jn a chadot driven by a man who made New York cabbies look like g()od drivers. The other planets scattered out of the way, but the Earth, still bc.:ing an act ual planet, wa s unable to move and was scorched by the oncoming Sun. Th c.: few people wh o n oti ced their oncoming demise were rather inc:Lignant. It \c<.: mc.:d unfair to survive the singularity only to be taken out by a chariot driver. But, ay, them's the breaks.

Admire Mc

Absentee Good Times

I Oh Pa r ry! Oh part)'• . unable to a ttend ret beJOg

I reg 6 •t's for the best. B t rn aY e 1 u picture it now: I can l d l c is a tad to o ou fhe rnu s t I forgive yo u), (Bu 1 crowd around so thick Peop e (Can barely move!)

And mys elf, Lounging on the couch or Standing in a corner. I enjoy mys elf, but in a way So far removed from everyone Else's joy that I feel even more awkward. So, yes, maybe it is for the best; Still, oh Party, I will think of you, Of what could have been, and smile.

Three Crosses He Bore

Th e 191 8 ,Spanish Flu

He'd loved her Like sunli ght. Marri ed yo un g, trea su red h er before he liked lovin He built a ho me with hi s hand s and toge ther the y filled it with the evi denc e of g. their love; a boy, brave enough to m ee t manho o d early, a girl sweet enough to win over the world and soon one more pro of to arrive.

It was three days to go to town and return, brown wintered field s, sullen trees and spring's promises. Sell the yearling calf and horse, the co lt would keep for breeding, and while he was there he found: A porcelain doll, a rawhide drum , three rose-scented soaps and a christening gown . more proof, though it was not needed.

But upon his return there was no candle to call him, no gowned children jumping, no chimney smoke bequeathed to the night air. And there lay his beloved, griefstricken mother; unmoving, unbreathing, unlit. Her watermelon womb wasted. And dear Lydia, with rag doll clutched tightly, a soiled slip of silk on her mother's breast. Jimmy, of buttery hair and childish grins, left to be a man, now dead calling to Christ for compassion.

If only he'd been there to cherish those children, give solace to his wife. • · pre\·ent or perish together. He buried his life with the same hands that built it; then sat, slipped into a bottle and never saw sober again.

J(inloch: Chaos, 'Que, and Collards

.d , that Kinloch is a dangerous and sinister haven for th '[he 1 ea . . e perp etualh. quite possibly derived from the sights and sounds of ·t - .and -o ut is . . 1 s streets dow 0 9 m. Standing next to the_weath~r-beaten population sign, "Population after P· ys precariously on tts rusting, dented pole, one can become ,, th at swa . . over768, d aybe even a bit frightened, by the chaos, the goings-on of this ciM, f I eJme , m -1 a ter w1 dark. Across the pothole-plagued street, the playground is virtually abandoned ; ming children have all been fed and their sticky fingers scrubbed until th e tl,e screa . . . 1 are swollen. Bedside prayer recited, they lie on their lumpy second-hand cuttc es . . . mattresses, pretending to be asleep while strammg their ears to hear the noises of tl, e playg round coming to life. A "Cou~ty ~lue," sworn to protect and to serve , strolls casually through the weed- and vme-mfested grounds, kicking up dust as he hi-fives his way through a rowdy mass of pimple-faced teenagers and joins their game of craps. His highly polished, silver badge gleams importantly. It reflects the rays from the headlights of battered Oldsmobiles and Lesabres parked strategically aro und the baseball diamond, illuminating the field and compensating for the burned-out street lamps.

The city drunks, notorious for their wavering, off-key, nightly renditions of "Chitlin' Circuit" favorites, like "Heard It Through The Grapevine" or "I'll Always Love My Momma," hover around an old steel trash can comparing stories of fortu ne s they'll never make; each story grander and more unrealistic than the last. An ol d, Bible-thumping matron yells for them to, "Hush up, ya'll, an' jus' let Godfea rin' Christians read dey's Bibles 'n' pray fo' redemption in peace!" Her worn co tto n nightgown blows in the wind as she tries to secure her large Velcro hair rolle rs Sh 1 . . h h kn · e strugg es, her mouth full of wooden clothespms, to tig ten t e ots rm the Ii h ' · · · th bl k ne t at s strung between her dirty kitchen wmdow and the tree at oc s the sunli h f . . h<i hi ft 6 g t ro m her derelict rosebushes. The dark, Just-worked-a-twelve - our

• · ags und er her eyes are visible beneath the cheap makeup she's forgott en to )/1P<: 0 ff · · · d hrl rn _ amid st preparing dinner and doing laundry and checking ha s t1l y scribble

<:wo rk pap - A · . d t d trots

<Jvt r t h e rs. · mangy dog leaps up from her tired, slippere eet an . o t c filthy si . . d h d sh oes and adds its lrm ngin.g quartet wraps itself aroun t etr tatter e ' ' g Woeful ho ·l '

Pr . w s to their equally wo eful tun es . 'l"'I acu l1 1 · I · 1e

1.vind is ca Y e ve ry window in the building is open to th e coo nig 'lt :1 11 • f a Welcorn b · , 1 n~111 g rorn the e r ea k from the stifling h eat that se nd s wave s 0 1 stca n · ,

'' t cracked ·d. hi , pr esse d b lu e0 ey hair O 51 ewalk s and blacktop . O ld w o m e n, not a tr es ) _ fa n. d. Ut of pl d • h · . la rge chur c h s 1spa 55 · ace, ecorate th e rickety balcorues and wav e t e u lo natel f s brok e n a ir co ny am o ng c o mplaints of in ad e qu a t e window a n '

,, that can fix the pro blems but refuse . d "system s to do d the despise ld beat-up patio umbrella, a heated gam f so. d"tioners, an 1 of an o , e o Bid t . , th the ske eton 6 ht breaks out. Profaruty and name-calling Un~ eu~eap\ayed and, briefly, a tg c: ht capture the attention of the teenag , as \\·eU

\Xfhtst 1s ' . teresting cat11g , ers and , _ he hope of an 10 th hi h-stakes craps game 1s forgotten. ,is t c second e g f mili. I cop and, ior a , tfully when the all too a ar sound of oi1n h t 1e ass uneven . . b-•s ots

Two hours P k t four different directions. Temporarily and 1 . ing drun s m o sca tters the otter d th disappear into damp alleyways and poorly lit door sto ..: 11 · ly sobere , ey al ' .th ops unwllling

6 uring that as usu , someones e1 er )USt sho, ffi merely yawns- ig ' . . ,.. u1g off Theo icer 'di H hecks his wristwatch and ad1usts his rughtstick. The . . lam stup1 . e c hi n, tn or 1u st ,, f hion he slowly saunters over to s patrol car, knowing th "Dirty Harry as , at true tld b necessary; no one saw anything, no one heard anything, and to rush wol e un . . . no . kn thing. All he stands to earn by mvestigating the n01se is a stead . one will ow any flow of paperwork and headaches. . . .

He drives off, purposely headed m the opposite direction from the shots. At the corner, he tips his head to two young women who are busy checking their hair, straightening their short skirts, and tugging their seemingly painted-on tops. They're attempting to catch the eyes of a group of middle-aged blue collars hud- dling close together by the broken merry-go-round. Destroyed years ago, the merry-go-round's paint-chipped remnants serve as a meeting place for the saints as well as the sinners. It is the spot where self-ordained storefront preachers in cheap suits, carrying barely creased Bibles, minister to their minions 'til they go hoarse- their whole-hearted attempt to convert the drunks and the thugs and the "loose" women. It's also the spot where entire paychecks are wagered, crooked deals are made, and lives are wasted in endless games of poker and dice.

The street begins to swarm as cars with paint jobs and wheels that cost a couple months' salary arrive and park on the sidewalks or in overgrown front yards, their hi-tech systems blaring militant tunes. The smell of cheap Kools and expen- sive gin floats out of black tinted windows and sunroofs, strong enough to burn th e back of your nose. It is after midnight and the rough and mind-weary people of this fallen ty · ' . d in the . ci are stepping out of doors dancing on the doorsteps an streets inviting t · d ' th k p ' emptat1on an trouble, and flirting with dangers at ee st ran gers o utside the city limits and keep the residents within them. . Hours go b d h ed spirtt. K 1 , " Y, an t e moon gives m to a new day and a renew .. in <>c h s night s 1 " h h _. on. 1t t~ Sund f ou s ave varushed and fresh faces brighten the onz ·r, , ay a ternoon and th h h . The Pentcco~ .. Meth d. · e c urc bells signal the end of service. · - <> ists, and South B d th scent ot Sunday n· , e rn apt1sts are glowing in the spirit, an e ·k inn er, 9u e and 11 d h . . . . the dat doorste ps A d co ar s, angs thick m the a.tr. Gone ate · d' ,. ch:1ir~ · n where sh d I . fo l 1t1 h \ and milk · a ow s ay previously people sit on worn ' clnnccl crates , fa nning th I , h av Pastt)t on th e pulpi . e azy mosc1uito es and lau g hin g at t e w, · . hes, \it 1li· bli t at mor nin g . n pure . )l ng over · h h se rvic e . Large turkey fryers are set up O d bnrc1°'.

. l . wit ot g rea se - fi h . . k :bbo ne , .-1r gir bfts the lid ' cat IS , and fned potatoes A pin - tl · 1 •1 ~'\ 1 of the p . " ded w1t1 '

Lot at the end of a long table and is rewar

the back of h e r h and s with the s p at ul a G ra d . . ck to · . n m a 1s using t flj srri a ke s o n th e eJec tnc g r1ddl e . 0 · P sweet ca ro ca l G po L ughing and b owing ra ndm a a kjs s t h e child a , run s o ff to · · nd sis ter s at the neg le cte d playg rou nd. Th e Jo in her thers a m e rr y-go- rou d bro f last rught tucked away in th e ir h o m es and recup . f n , Its o ccuants o . e rati ng ro m a late

P is decorated with h o m e made pap e r chain s a nd thi evenmg, f Th . . , s m o rrung, se r ves as base for a ga m e o tag. e childre n , s parkling in th e · S . d borne Jr un ay best and li -smeared faces, are scolded for scuffing up th eir bri h bl k . Vase ne g t ac and white

lea ther shoes, but a r e ill no dange r of spankjngs o n "Th L d ' patent , . e aw s Day" so . nore their mothers warrungs. Bnght helium -filled baU o ' the y 1g . o ns are strung to the h . fence that surrounds the bwlrung and park and a large ha d • d b c am . . . ' , n -pa1nte armer announces the sit~ for t~e Clark Family P1cruc. A group of graying old men is pulling more folrung chairs_ from the back o f the Church va n, their arthritis and old-age illnesses forgotten ill fear of a sharp tongue -lasrung from Grandma if she catches any able-borued person not doing rus or her share. No one goes without food in her famil y, but ever yo ne's got to work for it.

The smaller children cluster around square card tables with the legs removed and the tabletops placed onto four large cinder blocks so the toddlers can sit comfortably around them. The y each cradle a humongous slice of jwcy watermelon; most of them are wearing it rather than eating it. Uncle Eddie entertains them by spitting seeds into a large coffee can that's balanced on a dusty, cracked windowsill. Gales of high-pitched laughter erupt when he spits a seed into his sister's hair, and she chases him, barefoot, around the sunbathed parking lot.

The policeman erects a roadblock in the street and doles out hugs and kisses and lollipops to the excited children. He looks like royalty to them in his pressed blue suit with its shiny buttons, keeping order in the same spot where last night he'd indulged in a game of craps. The picnic tables are draped in Grandma 's best linen. Piles and piles of food, carefully and lovingly prepared, line the tables, and the mouth-watering smell of sweet potatoes, barbecue, collard greens, and various other rushes floats through the air and tickles our noses with fragrant fingers. th e neighborhood drunks, red-eyed and hoarse from last night's impromptu "concert" h b b ' are sober and clean-shaven and arguing over the best way to start t e ar ecue pit fire. Sure that once again they'll only succeed in burning the leave s on th e d ove_rhangi ng tree, someone sneaks in while their backs are turned and starts a smolenn g ft d . re eep in the pit. S k · th enter of th 6 ome o ne has pulled an old beat- up stereo and spea ers mto e c e aseball d' ·li f the o p en wi d iarnond, its fi ve connected extension cords trai n g rom n ow of h · · ti th ro ug h th h t · e near es t apartment. The "Electric Slid e" 1s blaring, cut ng e aze d h . · A large crowd an umid1ty Lk e a knife and yanking everyone fr o m th eir seats.. · . ga th er d · . d 'l l - and ktckm g up a ch k' s, ancing in sync to th e words g rowing stea 1 Y arg ei . • 0 1ng clo ud f d . ' d . d sto]J their ca rs to Joi n in h O u st as neighb o rs run out of their oo rs an d the da t e Party. The park is alive with w o nd e rful s m e ll s, sig hts , and so und s, a n nge r and . ' C h trun g fr o m th e uncertainty of the cit y after d a rk 1s th e 1 urt eS r ·

. d c lk passersby would know only love and happiness

d d f these ure io , . d h n mm s O d tl wandered into the city an watc ed the spectacl f family devo uon ha 1ey . li . e rom the o ulation sign at the city mlts. sun-lit P P 1 after the fire marshal has opened the hydrant and ev An hour ater, eryone ul h cooled off in its powerful spray, Grandma calls us to th ' kids and ad ts, ave . . e . di . There's no fighting over seats. No arguing. No pushing ,v-, tables for nner. we h lammy hand of the person next to us and bow our heads h t.ightly gras p t e c . . as s e . ·th Lord's Prayer and Grace. Her voice, deep and soothing float leads us 111 e . , , s through the air and wipes our mmds free of life s troubles and loosens the hand that fate has laid upon our heavy shoulders.

In time, the clinking of forks on plates and the buzzing chatter ceases. The tables are cleared and the music is turned down. Beneath the falling banner the children are laid out on their weary backs, exhausted and asleep on patched ' blankets. Quiet games of Spades are played on the porches, books are open on laps, and warm beers are balanced on aching knees. The roadblock has been removed and the officer is resting, close-eyed, his feet balancing on a milk crate while he lazily chews on a splintered toothpick. No loud noises would dare disturb the quiet of dusk on a Sunday. Cars drive slowly down the street and passengers wave to friends as they go by. In the background, the Boaz Housing Projects are still run -down, and curtains still blow through open windows to let in the breeze. Fra mes of cars still sit on blocks, the playground equipment is old and broken, yards are overgrown, and darkness is once again taking over. Yet, for our small but blessed neighborhood, all is right and as it should be in this forgotten little corner o f St. Louis.

WGNU Radio Host Charged with Murdering Woman

(K.SDK) _ A St. Louis radi o talk show host is charge d with murdering a yo ung woman.

Leonardo Drisdel, 46, is ac cused of be ating, cutting and bitin o- Cassandra Kovack, 28. b

Drisdel told his wife he was smoking crack with Kovack Saturday night when h e heard voices that told him to atta ck her.

Kovack's body was found Sunday. Police say she had been kicked, beaten, stabbed and bitten.

Drisdel is being held without bond He worked for \'(!G NU as the ho st of "The Human Factor."

Prelude

She dressed carefully for dinner. A simple white turtleneck and khaki slacks were what she ultimately chose because she didn't want to chance him thinking dinner was an invitation. As the noodles cooked, she pulled her hair into a bun and lit some incense, vanilla (Innocent it was called), then pulled out two wine glasses and se t the table with mismatched dinnerware from a garage sale.

She'd known him for several years, though not the kind of knowing rhat _ makes for close friends, spent many late nights at the diner laughing over th e anoc s of painted drunkards and listened quietly to his complaints on the fall of society. She wouldn 't have trusted him in a romantic wav for what kind of man would 1, b~ leave two young children and a wife at home while he gallivanted about wwn , all he wa h ] ki f · h us and a srn s a arm ess nd of gu y: principled, opinionated, sel -ng teo ' tow n celebrit y

Ca ss andra was the kind of woman who trusted, marginally, u f .o orher dee pl y. She W(Juld b e fri e nd a m an like Leonardo feel sorr y for his sto ry O c ; really lonel y birthd . . , ki. d f wornan . ay, cook him dinner a nd b e polite but n ot the n ° ti01 e to in vite him in Th . k very lo ng . · at sac re d ri g ht was an ea rn e d o n e and too ' a ac hi eve. · , J-I er A h dung wee k- A fe,,· b h s s e tossed the salad, sh e tho u g ht ab o ut the a ppro a bo ut it. rot er wa s c . . . . tl rvou s a

min

to v1s1t o n F rid ay, and sh e was a lit e n e

k h e'd been hospitalized for a psychiatric probl baC s . em and thou h h vears , - k it was hard to convmce her brother that h ' g s e knew ; n t sic ' s e was real] . she was .h Of course, it didn't help that she was curr tl Ygetting it get er. en y unempl d 6 back to _ he couldn't get a job if she really had to. He w d h oye , ut it , jjke s . ante er to 6 wasn t 1-th their dad, but she liked 1t 10 St. Louis this h m ove ack hicago w ' was w ere her Li£ to C 1 ed to stay for the foreseeable future; she even h d . . e was, d hep ann a an intervi ew£ a!l 5 [fee shop lined up for the next day. or a bat the co . 1o E ything for dinner was done and she sat on the sofa t h ver . . . . o pet er cat and d Voltmtary Szmpltct!J while she waited. Leonardo was due t 6 h . . d to rea o e t . ere 1n trie . and she wondered if he would be on time. She had tro bl di 111 wutes u e rea n g ten ous before a guest showed up, and pulled out her cat's favori·t ' va 5 nerv . e toy to ah Y h h r on the carpet for a few minutes before getting the food fini h d Ja y wit e . _ s .e . P When the knock finally came, the noodles were drairung. A thin red sa uc e mering on the stove, and the bottle of chardonnay was chilled. She opened was s1m d hi h d or with a smile and aske m to ave a seat while she moved everything to th e O d " h .d milin . h bl "Play with Go , s e sat , s g, as s e pointed at the cat. th e ta e.

"How's life on radio treating you, Leo?" she asked as they sat down to dinner and she thought it must be going pretty well if a conservative black man could make it on the radio in St. Louis.

"There's always some crazy bum to talk about. Just last week a little girl was shot riding down Newstead on her bike. They're crazy out there! 1 just wonder why people let drugs and evil take over their lives," Leo answered as he brought a bite of salad up to his lips.

"Hmm ... well maybe they just don't think about what they're doing. A lo t of people say they get trapped in a cycle of violence because it's so hard out there ... "

"That's bullshit, Cassandra; I grew up in that kind of neighborhood. I saw evil everyday but 1 got out," he said with disgust.

" But you had a good mother," she answered solemnly as she wondered if she'd have ended up like that if her father hadn't been so supportive of her when she was growing up.

"Ye ah my Momma was good; she would have beat me good for acting a fr1r1l like th h k.d k I ' d ' ose ot e r 1 s. But it's more than a Momma that ma es a man. ts a nvt to c 1 ·scape, to have a better life and give it to your kids. A real man wouldn ' t it <i1tt1n ' in th h d . . . . t· I gj rk" e 00 makmg new little thugs with a crackhead and kilLin g 1tt e

She air reed th h . h bt a , 1 ,.., · at t 1s wa s true. She would never consid er sue a pcr::-nn r<) rea rn an " B . , bur you had;) ut It ~ n ot all their fault, I don't think, J,eo. l m ea n ~•o u gor o ur had tht cha - pportunity. I nev e r live d in a ri c h n e ighborh oo d e ith e r, but we borh ne e to 're) to b h . . -,. '' l Jjk ,s ette r sc uols a nd learn to think 111 a dtl .krenr way. 'wa nt d e your Jnnoc C , · · I - h , h I e to th e nc e, as s, but you re too nt ce about 1t. t r C) ac ' ey would h b · Th ' ave u s t e d th e ir bl ac k asses and got an ed ucat10n . ere s

ll but m os t of t h e m w o n't eve n go to s h o to co ege c oa t th h odred ways to g b , able to ge t a goo d )Ob and m ake h app y ' en a u n about no t em . ,, on Welfar they cot~plai old ladi es. It's p athe~c e nd steabng fr om · h ay of their conversat10n s C ass andra was kn a . o ften t e w . own b Thi s was vative she believed in re sponsibili ty and ha d Y bit o f a conser ' . r Work many to be a . ht wing and unsympathetic man; h e alw ays b , d wa s a ver y ng t a ught but Leonar o . .d of Cassie. Out ass1onate s1 e rh e most comp . th retired to the living room and re sumed their co After dinner ey . nversatio C . suggested playing a game of cards and Leonardo .d n b th e world. as s1e sa1 a out fi ,, e for a minute 1rst. "Excu se m b h b . . , All of these things are what we can guess a out t e eginrung of that . n assume because we knew Cassandra so well and have li oi ht. Things we ca . . . stened g . d 1 th adio It was not uncharacteristic of Cassie to cook dinner L to Dn s e on e r • . . . 1or a . d d h too was an opinionated mdiv1dual. From here, though everythin fne n an s e, , . ' g becomes a bit murky, for we know the end and 1t makes no sense. The middle is where the que stions lie; choose your poison and I'll try to uncover the truth.

A.

Cassie cleared and washed the dishes while she waited for Leonardo to fin- ish. She played with God for a little while and glanced frequently at the hall as she bega n to wonder if he was OK. The chairs were all pushed under, the magazine fli pp ed through twice, before she stood and walked down the hall to knock on the door. ''A re you all right Leo?" she asked softly.

He opened the door and said, ''Yeah, you want some?" He was standing in fr ont of the mirror holding a glass pipe out as if it were a normal thing to be offer- mg.

"Leo! What the fuck? You can't do that here! After all the times you yell abo ut peo ple doing this shit, you come here in my house, and smoke crack?"

" Chill out Cass, it's my birthday, just a little something to cheer me up and make it memorable ... you know?"

"No ! I don't know and I don't want to know. You have to leave. Get uut 1" Sh ]j • cl 1 . · e rea zed she was screaming and it was probably not the best way to ea with so meone who 11 d d . d gling was a rugge up, but she was very pissed off an strug trJ kee p her te mp er in check.

· .1 S He too k the last puff of the rock and seemed to think about wh at she'd \ a1u he co uld te ll h h b . o cra ck i nfo l e was getting angry but she didn't care. How dare e nn° my nou se? How d h . d b I, om od- tin.2, hip,h( sh. h a~e eJU ~e all those other crackh eads when he was in my at. 710 0 ' ,; c: t ou ght in outrage. ·. N,i bah T' . , l like Jea, ing ye t " h . 1 Y,_ m n ot g o nn a leave n o w. It's my birthday I d o n t fee k . ' e sate w1th a f · d . bac' into his poc kc:t. n en ly smil e as h e put the crack pipe, n ow emp ty,

She refu sed I d :Hi s ha nd left an an ' 0 _ u ly and lo ng, until h e s macked h er acros s the fac eall . she gr y red mark h . . the w o n · er ivo ry skin and knocked h er into

do at first, no man had ever hit her before.

h at to ' th h d h · · 0 w VI i.;t so often e ar est, e gamed his stride h

as e slapp J

JjdO _Afrer e 1 sed his fists and began to hit her like she was a 5 · (;( d then c o . man . he ait1 ao k d tried to run at the same tune. She went backw d .

'r kJ1 th first 1u ,

i.et ag ht baC an d ki k d h al ar ' Intl) the

11 co fig nched her an c e er ong. Tears streamed d h bega!l as he pu own er

.. g roofl1, d her hair from her scalp, punched her and sliced her arm . h h

U\/J() e rippe WJt ·J': fa ce ash. . pockerk.rJlfe~o he grabbed ~er head and bit down on her nose, she was already Wh . s but still she wondered how anyone could bite som 1.,_ consc1ou eone IY.t; lose co un ed at the top of her lungs, fear giving her the strength t fj,.i. c he'd scream . o 18 ,t that. 5 ever came to stop him.

b too o oe ofl, u B.

Cassie cleared and washed the dishes while she waited for Leonardo to fin. h in the bathroom. She played with God ~or a ~bile and flipped through a m~~1~ Finally, he emerged and seemed ill brighter spirits. He sat down beside z111e rw1ce. d l oked at her in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable. her an o ''You know, I can think of a better game to play than cards," he said with lascivio us grm. ''You're married, Leonardo," Cassie replied as she wondered h ow to get him out without hurting his feelings. He leaned over and caressed her hair gently. ''You have such beautiful ha:r..

Cass. I can imagine what it will look like hanging down your back as I fuck you_" She looked at him incredulously, her skin crawling under his touch, as she firmly told him "It's not going to happen Leo. I wouldn't have asked you m·er ii 1 thought you'd think that ..."

"You know you want me baby, why else would you cook me dinner and have me over here alone?"

"I know you won't like this answer ... but I felt sorry for you, Leo, you said it was your birthday and your wife wouldn't be doing anything. You seemed lonely and y , r · d h I · · d all " ou re a 1nen T at's the only reason illVlte you at .

"Are you saying you don't want me? You? You should be happy that a manhilike me would even consider fucking your fat ass. Look at you! You ain' t not ngl y; li .

· b · FAT · ou ve ill one of the worst hoods in the city, you don't have a JO , : 0 '-' :c and yo u ' , think I" H iroang · . cant get a man. You're turning me down? I don t so. e · ner and a . . d afraid. Thi ngner with each word he said and Cassie became more an mor~ s~ h . ~~ issues w· h s not t e Leonardo she'd spent hours of early morrungs e -, . h

It Thi . . and u·n·,; s e'd kn s was some scary guy who she could barely even unagwe, --~

0wn sorn · · th h 'd eYe-reaJJy be . e real losers in her life it was not until this ame ar s e ·

en afraid f ' ,,1 ° one any 1-.: think y h · . Sh did 'r w anr co S-£~-

t,l.!11g to o u s ould leave now." she quietl y replied . e n · tnake hi . ' h d

''No 6. m angrier and was a little Jost about w at to 0 · k'.. • , Itch I hi . k my coc · . inc ' t nk I should stay rig ht h e re whJl e you sue

bb d h nk o f her long curly auburn hair an d pu shed her fa ce toward his he gra e a c u · crotch .

It was then that she started fighting. She realized he was ready to rape her if she wouldn't give in willingly, so she clawed at his hands and fell o ff the sofa in an attempt to escape him, but she couldn't break free of his gr~sp. He stood up, pulling the whole chunk of hair from her scalp and began to kick her as she tried to get back on her feet.

''You bitch!" he screamed over and over.

"Help! Someone help me!" she rang out in reply. Once she regained her footing, he began to punch her in the face and all over her body. She tried to fight back, her heart raced and the tears of surprise and pain covered her cheeks, she punched and kicked at him but couldn't get anywhere ... he was six inches taller than she was.

He used a butter knife on her arms, pulled out every last lock of her long beautiful hair, and she couldn't help but ask herself "Why?" as she tried to shield herself from his attacks. He bit off her nose and part of her cheek; by the time it was over there was little left of her to identify but she'd screamed until the end, pleading with God and her neighbors to save her. No one even called the police.

C.

Cassie cleared and washed the dishes while she waited for Leonardo to fin- ish. She played with God for a little and glanced frequently at the hall as she began to wonder if he was OK. The chairs were all pushed under, the magazine flipped through twice, and Cassie sat on the couch petting God and humming an aria from Madame Butterf!y until Leo finally sauntered down the hall.

"Sorry I was so long. Are you ready to get your ass kicked?" Leonardo asked with a smile as he pushed something deep into his pocket.

''You wish!" Cassie laughed as she pulled the coffee table closer to the sofa and began to deal the cards. "Is Rummy okay?"

"Sure."

Cassie grabbed a pad of paper from the cubbyhole inside of the table and q~ickly wrote their names to keep score. "I used to play this all night with my friends down at the Grind. It brings back memories."

"Y, h R ' d:>" ea , ummy s always good for some laughs. Are you any goo ·

"Passable. I have a friend who is pretty hard to beat ... I thought 1 was good until I played her." Cassie helped God resettle herself on her lap aDd asked, "H ave you ever heard a cat purr as loud as God does?" "I h ·

· d h·s h::1 n<l rn ave to adrrnt l never have." Leo smiled and then p1cke - up 1. • start the game.

The 1 · d

· inrt:' r- y Paye several hand s of Rummy with casual co nv ers ati on : , - spersed. Th . _. . 'div dctr tIL ey were evenly match ed at fir st, but Leo 's concentrauon iapi · rated and so C . . . ,, J--Je\' Leo, are . on assie began to wo nder what wa s go ing o n with him. ' you dmng okay over there?"

ked at her and then upward befo r

o~a)'- ,,of course. .

,vr. ll I ' m starting to think yo u're not okay C '' we . ass1e l ' c. ked up things about you lately." Le 1 · · · ve bee n h . all y1uc o ooked h earing 001 e re . yes and she wondered what he could h at er With an dd s . 111s e , ave po -6 o lea01 1!1 ctly run in the same circles. ssi ly heard abo h g •dfl't exa . ut er; u 1e}' di ,,okay, I give. What hav~ you been hearing?"

,,w ll ... that you are evil. That you've got th d . . . e " e evil Ins1de of be killed. yo u and yo u need to C sie laughed at his absurdity. "That's pretty e, as rnnny Leo I' d il? I've never heard that one before." ' · rn evil and full f the ev . 0

''You don't think I'm serious, do you?"

"Well ... no, how could you be? That's crazy."

Leo stood up then and Cassie began to worry that the odd 1 . . ..,.,ething to be afraid 0£ She stood and stepped backw d til~eharn 10 his eye was soo, ar un e had her ainst the wall. ag . L "C . ·

''You're scarmg me, eo. ass1e qwetly told him.

"Maybe you should be scared," he answered as he leaned his face close to hers and closed his. eyes momentarily. She could see he was battling something, but she didn't really believe he could actually have meant the things he had just said.

"Don't move," he told her as he took a step back. 'Just give me a minute here."

Then he leapt upon her without any warning, raining blows down upon her pale skin and tearing her hair out from the roots.

"Why, Leo, why are you doing this?" she screamed as he began to beat her 1n earnest.

"God has told me the truth about you. You have to die!" he screamed as he pulled his pocketknife from his pocket.

He used the knife to slice her arm but it was not big enough to do much damage. He would have to finish it with his hands. He punched her everywhere, as hatcl as he could and tried to block out her screams. He'd never used such violence but it came to him quickly once he'd begun. . 1 k hi C · · h She wed to b oc 5 b ass1e couldn't believe what was happerung to er. . d • d lows and hi k . Sh l d for her life an cne , a d t n of any way to reason with him. e P e . hopeless

n even d . b t he knew it was

11 h prayed to the God she'd never believe m, u s n J11ot1fd try

v en she . . h No sane perso to eat opened her eyes to watch him bite off er nose. h dred neighbors

someone Sh . here were a un around h · e screamed even louder, knowmg t . N e ever came er a d h h . wne o on n oping that they would get t ere m ·

Afterward: fi ts He'd slas hed h Leo d th 'th l,j s bare is . at least

erWith nar O had beaten Cassandra to dea wi uld have taken ' h a kni£ b . kill her It wo . off her

a]f an ho e, ut It was not deep enough to . d he 'd also bitten ur to do the damage he did with his hands, an

d •lft o f he r cheek. nn :-c AO P· . th th 1ight had begun inn o ce ntl y. T ha r sh t.' h.1d C<..)o k 'd l . He srud ar e 1 · t: 1 1n1 k d some crack together and G od had t1..)ld him th C . d. the n ther smo e • at :1ss1e inner. . ·h d must be killed . H e didn t seem to regret that he 'd 1. :u

had th e dev1J 111 er an h "-1 ed d t- ct see med to feel he had do ne th e n g t th111g .. . o n ord ers fr o""' her an ' 111 a ' "l God.

A I d ·e m)·self oYe r to th e memorial sen-ice fo r Cassie l wash,, s ro v . . . _ .,unted by an endles s collage of men:ories and my imagi.rungs o t wh at her hs r_moments h h been like I un agmed her face, full of ter ro r, as she stared into th m1g t ave · . e eyes f h rderer and tried to understand wh at was h app en111g and I 1m:1mned h 0 er mu _ '- · a O\\· awful it must have been when the life drained trom h er bea utiful eyes, eyes 1 remembered as being the perfect shade of summer aftern oo n middling blue. and disappeared forever.

I worried that there wouldn't be many peo ple, for all of th e friends we had once shared were no longer in touch with her, and that I wo uld have to fa ce her family, and my own guilt, alone on that beautiful June day. My wo rri es were unfounded, though, for as I pulled up to the pavilion where we would honor Cassie, I saw a crowd of faces, both familiar and not, fillin g the gro unds and helping to set up the long table of pictures and memories that we would fill in during the course of the afternoon.

Being a naturally introverted sort of person, I spent several moments in my car before I was able to step out and face Cassie's father. I felt so mewhat responsible for her death, you see, for I had once promised her father , on a day very much like the day of her memorial, that I would look out for Cassie and make sure she was okay. It wasn't only that I'd failed in my charge but that I'd completely given up on trying very shortly after the illness that caused Cassie's father to ask the favor of me. I couldn't help but think that if only I'd tried harder to keep up wirh her, if only we'd been friends still, then maybe she would have been with me that night and this terrible thing would have never happened. I wondered if he would_ r~member my promise to him and blame me, as I blamed myself, for the deatl1 ot his only daughter. He did not.

. H f h d gled half. er at er wandered about the pavilion with swollen eyes an tan d He look d tw d I' mbarrasse . e enty years older than he had only a year before, an m e a\ ·e to adrrut that in th f: f hi • d ore than ::1 . e ace o s gnef I was not brave enough to O m . bl • tum a passing "I' ,, d picruc ta c m so sorry before I wandered to a slightly remove to smoke alone. A '

d leOCl • Her moth d d th m con ° th h

· er an stepfather came to say hello. I offere e e ro en t anked th L d I uld escap th h e or that the service was about to begin and co

e ot er end of the circle

c)d w , · d stO we all held dl

• breeze, an · lk quietl . can es, our flames dancing in a stiff June 1 cl1ey ta Yas a pnest d d h ver e se · about I c rone on about the passing of life and w ate . should

iound it h h priest d officiate

~ery ard to listen to him as I wondered w Y a C ssie fo t111 a memorial ·

d th day a service for an atheist and remembere e

1 t a nd bro ug ht h e r home. ~rk1ng o b .

1in :i P . d , n eed e d an o ther cat ut neither of us c uld

GO< X:' ha .n r0 ever r f

\ e d had followed Cassie from her work to h e use to help a Go er car and · h or srra)'• 1, ; n)' bod y, Cass could not resist the urge to t k h ' wit her niudpo nd siun c . a e er in and di·ed fur a \"' discussed the name ior this hungry cat for give her . r fe . we . several days b £ berrer 1 ''G d" It was my contentlon that everyone should lk e ore we on ° · ta to God ca!J'le up th this way there would be no excuse for her to fo S some. es and at . d rget. he laughed tJJTI t was christene . and her Tcah priest was still talking and suddenly I wondered wh th db e a a ecome of . , "G d" The poor cat must have been there when it happ d d . Cassie s o . . ene an ... it before the police came. I began to cry anew at the thou ht f C . was hours . . g o assie's d et mewling beside her body, traumat1zed by the horrible thin th h d belove P g at a taken her mommy. . . The priest had firushed his sermon and Cassie's mother took the microphone. I came _out of my _terrible reverie ~o liste~ but_ soon wished I had not.

Colette was telling us that 1t had been her Job to identlfy Cassie at the morgue. She said when they pulled the cover down to show her the body, she couldn't, at first, tell if it was Cass. Her body had been so mutilated and brutalized, her hair even torn from the scalp, that she had to look very carefully for any clue that might reveal her identity. After some time she finally noticed a mole below the ear. She said it was Cassie's mole, "No one else has that mole and then I knew it was my baby."

She must have said something after that but I could not hear it. I was mesmerized and horrified by the mental image of my friend on a cold metal slab and that she was so battered as to be unrecognizable to her own mother. I wanted to run away but I could not, so I forced myself to keep it together for the rest of the service.

Cassie's brother spoke, quite eloquently, about growing up with Cassie. About how they'd had the normal sibling fights and all of the things he'd always admired about her. He cried as he revealed to us that he was supposed to have come to St L • . d h Ip her move back to . · oms on that very day to pack Cassie up an e Chicago with their father, then he bravely pulled himself together enough to thank us for com · th t the autopsy had sh mg to celebrate his sister's life and to reassure us a kn own she h d till b the Cassie we ew and l a done no drugs with Drisdel. She had s een oved.

Wh . d k to tell us everything h en Cassie's dad took the microphone, he trie to spea ' 6 t rh e h e needed d nly able to so a orror f . to say about his baby, but in the en was O ' d th e

o It all H· d support antnicroph · is family crowded about him with hugs an

1--I d n its way to a man that none of us ew d . fi rn, ed us rh ar h h el entifj d hi . ' . hbor an tn o e ad co le mself as Michael, Cassie s neig ' had lik ed

one fou d . kn

C . rne to . . 'd ti t eve ryon e ' a_ss1e, that h represent the neighborhood. He sat , a k ow th a t di e ne1 h s e wa d us aU to 11

g borhood s a good person, and that he wante ;,We alJ look o ut fo r

Was not such a bad neighborhood after all.

,. d .. 311 d if \\ e would ha, ·e kn o wn wh a t was happening to ch other he sat . h ,, ea uld hav e come and helped er. C 1ssa.ndra , we ,vo • th . d I - D . h d contain my anger a t ose \\ Or s. t nsdel would h It was a.r co · . ave C . co dea th in a nice suburb an neighb o rhood, the p olice ,, ul tried to bea t ass1e . -vo d cl. n five minutes o r le ss. Cassie died becau se n o one wanted have been 1ere 1. to get . 1 d b use no o ne called the p o lic e when th ey heard her screams but invo ve , eca ' n1ost of all she died because sh e was too p o~r to live so mewhe re \vhere p eople call the lice when thev hear a woman sc reaming po . - After the memo nal ,vas over, we all lett to return to o ur own lives and dramas. Perhaps m an y of us have been able to ove~come the horrible way she died and only remember her as she was when she was alive. I fear that I will never be able to get over her murder, though, and the nightmares that still haunt me. I cannot remember Cassandra without imagining her mother trying to identi~r her on a cold metal slab or, worse still, the look that must have been on her face as he attacked her. I have come to accept that I will never know what really happened on that night, and now I only wish I could escape the imagined middle.

No

B''erive would like to congratulate the .

ett i winners of the Pierre Laclede Honors Colle e

Excellence in Writing Contest g

FICTION: "The Imagined Middle" by Julie Creech

Submitted in Seema Mukhi's Fiction Class

1000-LEVEL: "A Perfect Hell" by Kevin Hoang

Submitted in Cultural Traditions taught by Dennis Bohnenkamp and Birgit Noll

2000-LEVEL: "Saving Hitchcock: The Feminist v. Master of Suspense" by Elizabeth Staudt

Submitted in Honors 2010: Alfred Hitchcock

Taught by Dan Gerth

3000-LEVEL: "Leyendas: An Andean Walkabout" by Patrick Bergin, Jr.

Submitted in Honors 3100 Writing the City

Taught by Dan Gerth

4000-LEVEL: "Why Nigh Sci-Fi? And Other Weird Questions of History" by Daron D ierkes

Submitted in Honors 4900 for Independent Study with Dr. Kang, History Department

. 6 th f'.-ll_time facul ty and a gradu ate sru de nt . Sh e h-,1, b

· Balogh 1s o uu "· ce 0 Man~ S anish at UM-St. Louis sinc e fall 2003, an d sh~ started in th e 1t F.A teaching . P th ring of 2004. She plans to kee p t eachi ng Sp anis h while · Program m e sp • • b . \\ Orki n , bli hin more of her work. Sh e wntes in oth Englis h and Sp . , g towards pu s g . . 1 . ¾tsh . . tl orking to launch a creative w riting c ass in Sparus h fo r S . She 1s curren Y w . . pan1sh

. M ria is origin·ally from Colombi a, South Am enca, so wh en sh e 00 1 ma1ors. a f . o es 10 111 c . . h 1·s inspired by the endless suppl y o sto n es, an ecdotes , and m\'th h to VlSlt, S e S t :u surround her family.

Angela Benoist is a student at UM-St. Louis who start~d as a p~ ysics maj or befo re switching to English. Her career plans are to bec?me e1th ~r a wnter or a genera l in the Centaurian army, whichever pays better. Her interests includ e Alph a Ce ntauri games, reading, writing, figuring out how to set the little blinking cl ock on th e VCR, and sorting the outright lies from the half-truths come electi on tim e. She says her writing inspirations come at the oddest moments. "Us uall y th ey co me b\' looking at something quite mundane, like the parking crunch on So uth Ca mpu s, · and adding a touch of the fantastic or skewing it slightl y "

Robert M. Bliss has been the Dean of the Pierre Laclede H o nor s Coll ege sin ce 1997. His interests include reading, cycling, walking, running, and fishin g. He might also be adding sailing to that list, as he and his wife recently purch ased a sailboat for their 40th wedding anniversary. "In Forest Park, July 2006" is a word picture of a sight seen at dawn in Forest Park, where he cycles about four tim es a week. "From this, you may gather that I tend to write about things see n," he said. "I write for pleasure, and when someone notices it, it is a bonus."

Jason Bollinger is a graduate student at UM-St. Louis in his second year of th e philosophy M.A. program. Jason loves listening to the music of th e Fi ery Furnaces, getting drunk and yelling about Gnosticism, and generally avoi ding manual labor. Jason would like to share with his readers: "If you can stop writi ng, do it. If you find that you cannot, read Annie Dillard's Th e Writing Life. Th at should help." He wrote "Sunday with Galaxia" for his wife with all ru s love aocl admiration. '

Traci Clark is a 1 · · · · 1 to b uruor, maionng in nursing. After graduating, sh e , opes ecome a nurse pra titi b · 1t of s h 1 £ c oner, as well as a nursing educator. A ft er emg ot c oo or 10 years T . 'cl h retu rn to sch 1 " , ' raci sai her 10-year-old daughter motiva ted er to · 00 · Its pretty h d . hen you didn't ar to convince your kid to go to college one day w . even go yourself s h I ,, . d ds some writing ins · . ' 0 ere am. When she 1s stumped an nee ,i nd p1rat1on Traci . b mes to n ' JUS t gra s a notebook and writes whatever co

in the midst of all the turmoil in h h because, er ead sh . d ''I want to thank Nanc y Gleason fo ' e usuall y find bur1e . ' think I 'd h r suggesun th s a goo d ,, rive I don t ave done it on g at I subr-n : sto ry to Bette m y own." «ut n1y Wri~i~ '-l.llgS

Creech is a senior and writing tutor at DM-S . Julie · · t. Louts · di with concentrat10ns m creative writing d , ma1oring in stu es an photo general Jude fashion photography and "building a sailb graphy. Her caree r l inc oat and sailin p ans . . g novels that would have made the world b g around the writin . " . a etter place if I ' wo rld all ·n the Bermuda Tnangle. Her mterests includ kni . hadn t lost th 1 . e ton and em d photography. She says her wntmg is inspired • th , of course, writin an . ltl e privac y f h g ious and 1s so top-secret that even she is not privy t h O er subconsc o er method · . or favorite places. s, 1nsp1tat:J.ons,

Rilee DeClue is a senior at UM-St. Louis majoring in E li h . . · · b · ng s with a wnu.ng certificate. Rilee enJoys emg an artist by drawing sino-in 1 . . . · Th • . ' b~.g, P aymg piano, wnu.ng acting and dancmg. rough his wntmg he is channeling th th ' ' . ' e poetry at happen s all around us, and he hopes, m return, to inspire someone else to see something that maybe they would not have seen before. Rilee wants people to know, "Llfe is too short for things that aren't important. If everyone focused on what is real and good in this world, then maybe we would be able to truly understand the me aning f " o peace.

Michael Fetters is a graduate student in the M.F.A. program at UM-St. Loui s, focusing on poetry. Michael is an assistant professor of literature and compo sition at Lindenwood University, as well as the sponsor for Lindenwood's Word Society. He plans to continue his career as a professor while developing more as a poet and a writer. His numerous interests and hobbies range from writing and reading, to camping and hiking, to video and board games. Michael's writin~ is influenced ~y reading and his Roman Catholic faith. The works of J.R.R. Tolkien have grea tly influenced his writing.

Ja S University. H e wo rk s as a son Hancock is a graduate student at Arkansas tate • Thi' writi · · · Arkansas magazme

,. . ng Instructor and an editor of the award-wmnmg . . h he is not 1-nbut H • · nd wntmg w en

ary e also spends his time playing music a v , unc ondi tional lo \' c teachin . • d by W.B. 1eats

g or studying. "From Yeats" was inspire £ . things th at arc or Ma ud G o nne. It shows that we all have a desire and love o r unreachable. ,_ ·nclu de mat ht Nath . . h . Hi s ho bbi es i . i • . . tl wtna an1el Hunton is a senior, majoring in p ys1cs 5't Lom:r Po.rt-D1.rpt1lt

cl ll f rh at o-e ts in the way when I'm trying to type so m ething up." rake, ere. . an :1

eru·o r m ai·o rin o- in E nglish. She plans to go to graduat

L idsay Johnson 1s a s o _ . . _ e yt _ ritin o- b ecome a protessor, and co ntmue wntmg. Much of , chool tor cre auve w . o'

· cl , • c·on co m es from myth o logy and cultural phenomena such as l ,rn says in spir a 1 _ · _ , _ · ·· th L h ·Ness m o n ster B1gtoo t, gh os ts , firebirds, and taenes.

Atl anti s, e oc '

Unfo rtun ately, she finds th at h er best ideas for a poem or a st~ ry co me to her in th e middl e of a class lecture. As a res ult, she ge ts some g r eat ideas o n paper at the cos t of lecture time.

Kate Drolet Kimble graduated from UM-St. Louis in 2006 before moving to Ci ncinn ati. A ft er spending the b etter part of June seeking a job and bemoaning her un employ ment, Kate scored a marketing coordinator position with the Invisible Fence Brand. Kate says that creative word combinations constantly pulse beneath her skin , so she just lets th em spill out of her mouth or hand in order to prevent a messy explosion. She says her photographic inspiration comes from interesting signs to which her camera is naturally drawn.

Ginger Klingel graduated cum laude in December 2006 with a bachelor's degree in psychology and plans to attend graduate school to earn a Ph.D. in experimental psychology. She also has certificates in photography and graphic design and enjoys doing both in her free time. Ginger's other hobbies include hunting, fishing, computers, her motorcycle, and the outdoors. "There is nothing better than taking a walk through the woods," she said.

Jamie Mabb is a senior, majoring in English, who loves writing more than any- thing. "There is nothing more fulfilling to me than completing a poem, essay, or short story," she said. "The best part about writing is finding out something I have created has touched someone else, so I hope that my work is capable of that." Jamie finds inspiration for her work from people and situations in her own life. Some of her favorite poets and inspirations are Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Sharon Olds, Phillip Levine, and Allen Ginsberg.

M~ke _McHugh is a student at UM-St. Louis pursuing graduate studies~ English. Mike is fairly new to writing. He likes to compare his writing to an athletic event bee h h h b hysically ause e as to s ow up whether he wants to or not, and he has to e P prepa red to co nc entrate.

Bobby M ·1 · · · · tl d dared a ei e is a Juni o r m the Honors College and has reluctan Y e . ma1·or in m th · H . • · hool antrne, a emat1.cs. ts interests include video games, comics, sc h and skepticism H h '. thi ntime so e . · · e says ts inspirations come from any ng at an ;~- ' ''And seizes th em qui kl b c . tl c his poern c Y eiore they go away. For example, the U e ior ·n.

By 'Deadly' I M ' D ·

· ea n elic1ous, was msp1red by the webcomic O 'Y

,,, . · p k e11 th e Pengut

~ raduated from UM- St . Louis with a ma jor in E . Meyer g d . nglish alo . Jeatl d Honors College an wntmg certificates. Publi h .' ng with the Lade e · · s ed 1n B iii · · pierre , ries never disappoint our readers. e enve in past Jeans sto years,

,.,1iller is a sophomore majoring in philosophy with a min . C-teb i,.. . . . . . or 1n Germ ;lJ. C tificate. His roam interest 1s m medical ethics h an and \X/nt1ng er , so e may end u . a 1 He says that he has no hobbies because he spend 11 hi . . Pin I scho 0 · s a s time in 1 aw h I'm feeling particularly festive, I like to ... um k 1 . c ass, but "w en . . o ... snor e -with s uid ,, b .d that insomrua 1s responsible for 9 5 1/o of what he writ "A 9 · Cale sal es. s a guy wh 't reallv submitted work to many Journals, I'm honored to be in B 11 ,, 0 J ~m~c~ said.

Justi Monta~ue is curr~~tly pur~~ing a double major in English and education. Ideally, she will make millions wntmg trashy romance novels, but in reality she will probably be_ t~aching_ c?llege-level E~glish. Justi enjoys scrapbooking, swimming, running, knitting, quilting, volunteering for the homeless, and dancing in the dark. She tries to live by the quote: "Today is the tomorrow we worried about ye sterday" from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Justi's writing is inspired by nature, music, books, and conversations.

John Perez graduated from UM-St. Louis in 1997 with a B.A. in English and has been an administrative aide in the Honors College since August 2005. He recently applied to the Master in Public Policy Administration Program at UM-St. Louis, where he hopes to pursue an emphasis in nonprofit management. His career plans are to help support his family with a career that allows him relatively guilt-free nights of sleep.

Kristi Rhoades is a student at UM-St. Louis pursuing a liberal arts education wi th an emphasis in French political science and anthropology. She has traveled to E l d ' ' f Kr. ·, · t rests include ng an , Wales, Scotland France and Spain. Some o 1sti s m e ph ' ' . . l · about other cul- otography, scrapbooking modern art, writing poetry, earning ld tures d · . ' . f m the natural wor ' an interior design. A lot of her inspiration comes ro . f th an d fro m places she has traveled. Kristi likes to illustrate her cunos1tyb orptu:iog a Worl d i h · scene or Yca n er photos b y putting a different perspective on a un1 9u e moment. S . S ann e has uz

d hys1cs. ... u z'- anne Ro · ·

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seni o r m ajoring in p sy ch o logy w hil e wo rkin c.t t . S ington 1s a , 1::, owa rd Caitelin app d itin a certific a tes. Sh e r e c e ntl y sp e nt an exciu· s College an wr o ng and her Honors 6 din Gh an a, Afric a . Caitelin plans to a tte nd g rad . nester a roa uate s l emotive set d d the altar until she is proudly a nnounced D r. Sa M. c 10()] . N York an avo1 . . . n , tng to n m ew . lin Her biggest aspiration 1s to save the world from di With Ph D m counse g. . Vo rce 1 a . . . h eni·oys being excited about heads-up pennies, good hair d . n her free time, s e . . .th P ul A ays d . ki fi•ne wine with friends, and smgmg Wl a a bdul as she clean s ,h rm ng ui 11 . 1 up e

If she could personally te ever y sing e person something it r apartment. , . . ' Wo uld be "Defme love. Smile at a stranger. Don t tiptoe through life. And drink milk." ,

Missy Yearian is graduating in May 2007 as an English major with certifi . . . cates 10 writing, gender studies, and honors. She 1s currently applying to graduate schools so she will not have to work at Barnes & Noble for the rest of her life Sh ' · e spends a lot of time with her chihuahua, Coco Chanel. She reads voraciously, and she warns others to avoid the evils of John Grisham. Her inspiration for "Randall Hugg is Dead" came from her parents' house, where they frequentl y receive mail for the former owner, Randall Hugg.

1ana Ba/o,,h ~...,

./lngela B enoist

Robert ivl. Bliss

Jason Bollinger

Traci Clark

Julie Creech

Rzlee DeClue

Michael Fetters

Jason Hancock

N athaniel Hunton

L3mdsqy Johnson

Kate Drolet Kimble

Ginger Klingel

Jamie Mabb

MikeMcHugh

Boblry Meile

Jean Mryer

Caleb Miller

Justi Montague

John Perez

Kristi Rhoades

5 uzanne &ussin

Caitelin 5 appington

Mis.ry Yearian

Pierre _J

. I aclede Honors College

• • University of Missouri,...., St. Louis