The Mother marched her son past the kettles and toasters. “I’m returning him,” she told the sales assistant. “This child is not suitable.” The boy fidgeted with the buttons on his school blazer, lip trembling. “Stop fiddling, Jeremy!” The Mother… Continue Reading
Sunday, 9/9 The date had been circled on my calendar for months. The night before my flight from Nashville to NYC I used a red ballpoint to circle the word Tuesday and the number eleven. And then again and again… Continue Reading
They were right, it all passes too quickly. Demetria both regretted and cherished every extra minute it took to get little Anton into the bath. She wanted to get him into bed early, but he was so happy playing with… Continue Reading
When Gray didn’t work the night shift, he took over bedtime duty from his wife, tucking in Dylan and telling him a story. Gray sometimes got carried away, veering into realms not wholly age appropriate. Tales of changelings and tricksters,… Continue Reading
My first thought was to lie, and spent a few moments dreaming up common household emergencies like an overflowing washing machine or a broken refrigerator. But Marla was one of those sympathetic-but-also-kind-of-nosy bosses and usually would look the other way… Continue Reading
Worthy’s mother has agreed to listen to her book report and give her feedback. They sit down to begin — the phone rings. Her mother picks it up. No one answers. She smiles at Worthy and shrugs her shoulders. Worthy… Continue Reading
I’m lying on the floor of the playroom. The ugly carpet is scratchy against my face, my nose is running and my sinuses are playing a drum solo. I rub my cheek back and forth: It keeps me awake. I… Continue Reading
For years Teresa ate pasta twice a week, on Tuesdays and Sundays, and it had become, she believed, a necessary part of life. She found refuge in a warm bowl of bucatini or farfalle, even after the most hectic days… Continue Reading
Painting the wall seemed like a good idea in early spring. We didn’t exactly have time on our hands, but some had been freed up by not having to commute. As it had become necessary to spend so much time… Continue Reading
My older sister Kolt storms into the kitchen like an angry ostrich, all neck and ruffled feathers and big round eyes. Her fists are balled, her face splotchy red, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She’s barefoot. I bite… Continue Reading