Rebecca Markovits

The sign in my window says “Card Reader.” It is small, fuzzy, and lit up in a shade of 1960s pawnshop neon that implies my lack of card-reading expertise as well as a dwindling interest in the so-called future of my business. Still, people knock on my door and come inside. And come back. And ask me for the kind of giveaway they receive at espresso drive-throughs: one free session for every ten. Nothing, it seems, is more trustworthy than irrelevance. Except to a landlord. Today, mine is … [Read more...] about Our Family Fortune-Teller

One summer night in 2030, in the garden of a nursing home, two old men began remembering. As a little boy I thought that dried apricots were ears, and I’d wonder who the unlucky soul was who’d had them chopped off. When I was forced to try one, picking it out from a Christmas arrangement of dates and candied fruit, I said to myself: “So this is what ears taste like.” I, on the other hand, believed in a magic powder that, if dissolved in water and drunk, would protect me from bad dreams—and … [Read more...] about Down There

I met Maria back in the fifth grade. She was this skinny girl whose mom would always pack her salami sandwiches for lunch. When I think of Maria today, I think of those slices of salami stuffed inside a hardened Kaiser roll. No lettuce, tomatoes, or cheese. Just belch-inducing salami. This was back when Mom would slap my stomach to remind me to suck it in. Back when she was buying me outfits two sizes too small and pinching the fat rolls spilling over my tight jeans. That year I was hungry … [Read more...] about I’ll Give You a Reason