the nothing

If anyone asked me now what there was between us, I would swear it was nothing. The last time we fought was years ago, three in the morning, his eyes red from drink, mine from crying. The others are wickedly hilarious at the other end of the table, laughing off the alcohol. I trace the … More the nothing

broken febuary

  I remember that broken February when I read Augustine for the first time, and I knew that I would never believe in his pear tree, his mother or his faith. His agonies of ecstasy, his fear and trembling joy, his surrender to whatever it was that called him. How impossible his healing. … I … More broken febuary

the first death

I am so young that I can’t remember the world being anything other than enormous. The road from our apartment to the park winds too close to being a journey I can’t make on six-year-old feet. My father holds my hand as I balance on the curb. I must have walked so many miles that … More the first death

protect the goalie

We left the school at five in the morning, hauling hockey gear. It was hours to Pennsylvania, and we wanted to get there early. A full Greyhound bus with only eight high school boys, a tired coach and me. I tried to read. The boys played video games and gossiped about people I didn’t know. … More protect the goalie