Our running joke: anniversary cards that said, Congrats on being halfway through our marriage! Does it mean something good or bad that neither of us pointed out by how many years, with that last card, we’d overshot?
I am not a bad person. I told my mom and sister I needed some air. Mom was ironing the folds on the full skirt of my wedding gown. The smell of bacon wafted through the cramped house as I walked downstairs into the kitchen, where Gwen and my brother-in-law were arguing. I sighed and pulled my coat off the back of the kitchen chair. When Gwen noticed me she stopped talking and set the spatula down. Snow fluttered to the ground outside the kitchen window. The trees and telephone wires were coated in white. Everyone said a winter wedding would be cheaper...
There's a section of New York State, on the eastern border of Lake Ontario, where the town names make you feel like you've gone around the world.
I read the names out loud to my two-year-old daughter—Mexico, Syracuse, Rome, Poland—as I watch the snow swirl around the dark streets outside the bus windows. We are traveling from Gouverneur, New York to Everett, Massachusetts. It is my daughter's first Greyhound bus ride, and it is my first time returning home after running away from my abusive ex-husband.
Gerald used a razor to sever the cellophane wrapping around Megan’s body. He rolled her out of the box, then plucked the instructional manual from between her rubber lips. He stuffed the papers into his pocket, dragged her by the ankles to the living room, and deposited her on the floor.