When the phone rings, I reach for the Advil in the bathroom. I know it’s my mother. Sucking in my breath, I close my eyes before I answer it. “Have you written your novel yet?” she asks, with the enthusiasm… Continue Reading
I’m getting married tomorrow. My mother calls, at ten minutes to midnight, to ask whether or not I am going to wear a dress. She’s drunk and the slur of her words pelts me through the phone line like wine-soaked… Continue Reading
Knocking. It’s him. I’m behind the sofa quicker than blinking. Harder now. Go away, piss off. Wearing his knuckles out and bothering my doorbell too. I try to avoid his phonecalls, but can’t keep that up for ever, so once… Continue Reading