After the wedding, I rode to the reception in a shiny black car. I sat in the back seat between two other bridesmaids. I was sixteen and lightheaded with excitement. I had come up to Chicago on the train to be in my aunt's wedding. I wore a long satin dress, with an overskirt of…
"I don't believe it, not a bit of it," Esco Mize said. "I've heard about them kind of preachers all my life and I ain't seen one yet that wasn't holding a snake with one hand and reaching in your pocket with the other. Lord, he must think wer're just a bunch of hicks here."…
This is a chapter of a novel: TESTIMONIAL. Earl Loden, 52, gets cancer and he proceeds in a black humour type of way to try to redeem a messed up life. This particular section deals with his first night home from the university hospital after undergoing three weeks of chemotherapy. Lynda is his wife. Hal…
My family had moved to Hong Kong because Tak-nam, my older brother, was very sick. He had bad heart and lung problems, and we thought that Hong Kong, with its warm climate and ocean air, would help him. We lived in a cottage on top of a small hill overlooking a bay. The water was…
Her journal was stolen. More correctly, her car was stolen and the journal was in the trunk in a tote bag. It happened three weeks ago, the day after she made the long drive from Portsmouth to Pennsylvania to spend Thanksgiving with her mother. She had just broken off a lingering love affair by changing…
Beal comes in the night. "Auntie!" he says softly with his lips against the glass. The door is latched. Just a thin latch, not meant to keep out something big. Beal taps the glass with his knuckles. "Auntie! It's me!" Among the hairs of a young boy's beard, pimple scars have been carved, concave as…
She had kept the bottle stuck down inside a basket of clothes that needed ironing, and throughout the course of the day whenever she had a chance to walk through the back room where the basket was kept, she would stop for the odd sip or two. By the middle of the afternoon, she had…
Gordon He pressed the side of his face to the pillow and waited for the sound of birds. The room was black, the window open; when a breeze came the curtains billowed out against a lighter sky. He heard the clock. He heard the dry sound of Helen breathing; there was a sigh and a…
He wanted, above all, to crack The New Yorker. He could not deal in the right things, a lorgnette, an Italian garden, a grandmother, Mexico. Mexico is perfect because it is a proximate paradise. Situations come undone without the vexation that Europe can sometimes bring. The New Yorker watches for mise en scene. You feel…
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