He spoke as soon as she reached the kitchen. “You go through the boxes on the table. Kimmie left those for you to get rid of.” “Okay, Papa.” The clean-out had begun. Her mother’s things were being sorted and awarded… Continue Reading
The sound of his chewing made her palms sweat. It echoed in her brain. It filled every empty chair around the table, every empty room in their house. He wanted to make her wait, to intimidate her, to show her… Continue Reading
Marya stared at the whitish-yellow coffee beans in front of her, shoulders hunched. “Try again,” Dad snapped. Marya bit the inside of her lip. She was trying, but her coffee beans stayed stubbornly un-fermented. She’d never be a proper coffee… Continue Reading
Hikaru squats on his ankles in the mouth of the furnace. Moisture steams from his body. Sweat distills into salt stains on his shirt. A square of fabric is tied around his head and tucked into a roll in lieu… Continue Reading
On my forty-first birthday, I paddled my way back into my father’s life. It was the last place I wanted to be. I maneuvered my kayak around the peeling fishing boats and patched up houseboats that made up the floating… Continue Reading
Her father had slapped her twice already. Her face is still red from the blows. Tears run down her cheeks. She is obstinately silent. They sit in the beige Formica kitchen on the first floor of their new, still bare… Continue Reading
Her father was still there. She watched as the wrinkled white sheets slowly rose with each breath — a movement so slight it seemed not to justify the word. Sometimes, she would place her head on his chest just to… Continue Reading
The first knife my dad throws at me lands within a couple inches of my right ear. It comes as quite a shock. Not the ‘my dad’s trying to kill me’ part. That’s what he paid fifty dollars to do… Continue Reading
When I was a boy, my father showed me a hunting knife that once belonged to my grandfather. The knife was serrated, hefty, meant to saw through muscle and bones. My father told me my grandfather had killed himself with… Continue Reading
On my drive home last night, the flakes danced in and out of my car’s headlights, and a dusting of snow moved in low eddies over the pavement. The sounds of Pachelbel’s Canon in D echoed the snow’s dance. The… Continue Reading