“Fran’s friend has cancer,” Sheila says. “Who?” “Fran’s friend. Has cancer.” “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” “I’m telling you. Fran’s friend.” Max looks up from his menu. “I’m hearing the words, Sheila. I’m asking who the hell is Fran?” “You don’t know who Fran is?” “I don’t know who Fran is.” “You don’t…
Somehow, Benzy hadn’t become a rabbi. He wished it were more complex than that, but it was not. He lived in his parents’ windowless basement in a Crown Heights brownstone that, if it did have windows, would have faced one of the biggest yeshivas in the neighborhood, which was basically a rabbi factory. Benzy had…
At the front desk, Mamoru tells the receptionist that they are married. “Yes, my wife prefers darker colors. She would like one that’s dark blue or indigo,” he says, selecting the yukata that they will wear to dinner. Sachiko can hear him from where she sits in the lobby. The inn, Oyako Koto no Yume,…
translated from the Danish by Misha Hoekstra Nina Hansen’s on her way home and it’s been a long day. While she was researching and writing, she almost didn’t notice that buzzing in her ear. Her left ear. When she’s idle and alone, it feels as if a bumblebee’s sitting in there, the kind you find…
This is the latching on. You are shelter and source, and this is the smell of only you. The hands that hold and lift and swaddle, the mouth that smiles and sings me, the eyes that look me into being: yours. This is the skin to skin. I cry to make the hungry stop and…
It was a job Gary stumbled into while he was already gainfully employed as a CPA in Spoonington, Indiana. He and Dinah were at a dinner party at the home of one of her colleagues. Dinah was a lawyer who’d kept her own name. “Even if I did believe in taking another person’s name,” she’d…
Trevor’s father said to go on and get in the Suburban with Jean and her kids. Trevor balked and his sister Lesley-Ann acted like she wouldn’t even be able to cross the yard unless he came with her. Trevor’s father told him again to go on, and Trevor did. Halfway across the yard he could…
Gray skies. A silver tray of individually wrapped cheeses. Bad coffee in boardrooms. That was Prague to me, that “city of a hundred spires.” And I might have boarded the plane knowing nothing more had Antonin not turned to me during that final dinner and said, “If you are free tomorrow, perhaps we go on…
No one was having a good day. It was December in Minnesota and we were all at a stage in our lives where our therapist thought we might be less loserlike if we met late Monday morning. Late morning because early morning wasn’t an option for some of us—because some of us couldn’t keep ourselves…
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