SLICE
ISSUE 10
Reese ached for the home from which he’d been banished. He longed for hand-sewn quilts as he tossed beneath military blankets. He ate with his eyes closed, pretending the gray mashed potatoes and dull meatloaf were a soufflé. He yearned for his mother’s endearments, whispered them to himself in the shower, plugged his ears against the housemother’s rough orders.
the beginning of each semester to the barbed-wire fence thrown up by a neighbor and marked private property. In the heart of the New Hampshire winter, when the lake froze, Collins wasn’t deterred. A single shot from his Colt ended the animal’s life. While the other boys rose and dressed, Reese sat in the garden, Tennyson open on his knees. He recited the poem “All Things Will Die,” which they were to have memorized for the day: Yet all things must die. The stream will cease to flow; The wind will cease to blow; The clouds will cease to fleet; The heart will cease to beat; For all things must die. Reese didn’t want his parents to die, or his older sister Sarah, or Lila, but at times he wanted to cut short his own life at fourteen years. His problems hadn’t begun at school. At home he had often sneaked into Sarah’s room, going through her dresser, caressing the fabrics, the panties and half slips, trying them on before the mirror, his private parts tucked
week until he would board the train home, ten strokes in
between his legs. The touch of silk brought goose bumps
all. He had no one but himself to blame for the way the
to his skin, and speeded up his heart, though he couldn’t
boys treated him.
say why. One Sunday afternoon his father caught him.
In the morning, Lila woke Reese, stamping her nose
“Depravity!” his father shouted, his face turning as
into the side of his arm. Soon Mrs. Cossgrove would wake
gray as the switch he ripped from the maple and beat
the other boys. “I’ll rip those cobwebs right out of your
Reese with.
heads if you don’t get up,” she would shout from the
A few days later his father announced he was send-
door.
ing Reese to Havermaster Academy. “He needs the com-
Reese stumbled to the bathroom. If he hurried, he
pany of boys. You girls,” he said, sweeping his arm in an
could wash without having his face pushed in the toilet.
arc that took in Reese’s sister and his mother, “coddle
He cringed at his image in the mirror. The morning of
him. He’s surrounded by needlepoint and sweet rolls. He
his departure for school, his father had taken a razor to
should be playing baseball or hockey, but you keep him
his hair, which had been as curly as a pug’s tail and the
hidden in your skirts. No wonder he thinks he’s a girl!”
color of yams. It grew back in angry spikes no amount of
Reese ached for the home from which he’d been
combing could soften.
banished. He longed for hand-sewn quilts as he tossed
Lila was gone when he returned to his bed. She hid
beneath military blankets. He ate with his eyes closed,
during the day. The groundskeeper, Mr. Collins, had his
pretending the gray mashed potatoes and dull meat-
own way of keeping down the population of cats. When
loaf were a soufflé. He yearned for his mother’s en-
he caught one, he dragged it in a sack to the lake beyond
dearments, whispered them to himself in the shower,
the hockey field. The wail of the unlucky animal split the
plugged his ears against the housemother’s rough
air, traveling to the far ends of the school property—from
orders. His homesickness put the other boys off, and he
the gravel parking lot where the boys were dropped at
made no friends.
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