It is decided at a summer staff meeting that The End of the Century will be the schoolwide theme for the year. Since it would be a mathematical fallacy to celebrate the year 2000 as the start of the new millennium, they all have to agree that it is not the turn or dawn of anything yet, just the end. Ellora and Jane, both first-grade teachers, have been passing notes back and forth with their own suggested titles for the schoolwide theme: The Beginning of the End; A New Beginning Begins; The End … [Read more...] about A Century Ends
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The Chiropractor
A giant mirror sat in front of the massage table. On the floor were bath towels that smelled of mold and alcohol. I watched the chiropractor place his thick, hairy hands on Ma’s ribs—watched him, watched him—pushing against her breasts as he hugged and pulled and lifted her from behind. The chiropractor urged Ma to relax and imagine herself floating on the sea. “You’re on holiday now,” he said, and Ma closed her eyes and leaned into him. “Yes,” he said. “Oh yes, that’s it.” The sky was … [Read more...] about The Chiropractor
The Only Time I See My Sister
Is during the next family tragedy. She picks me up from the airport. Brings me a bottle of cold water, cucumber-infused facial wipes, an orange, and a jumbo box of Cheez-Its, which she knows I won’t eat. I’m always trying—for once and finally—to be skinny. I slide, sweaty and exhausted and chubby, into her passenger seat. “Where to this time?” she asks. “Bali?” She opens the water bottle because she knows I’m no good at that. “I was thinking Cambodia,” I say. “I hear the noodles are … [Read more...] about The Only Time I See My Sister
Damien, 32.
When I first started dating Damien, he told me that everything I knew about cancer was wrong. I had just survived a bout and it had been wrong. I was young, not very young, but healthy. I did yoga regularly and tended to my core with fitness videos I found on the internet. I drank fresh juice. Not knowing what came next was the wrongest part of all. So many holes opened up inside of me while I waited for the illness to go away, and when I got no answers the holes just filled with cancer. The … [Read more...] about Damien, 32.
Issue 75
Featuring new stories by Lydia Conklin, Darby Jardeleza, Matthew Neill Null, Roger Reeves, Eric Schlich, Caroline Schmidt, Jackie Thomas-Kennedy, and Emma Törzs. Lydia Conklin, "Belong to the Night" A hangover was already running her down, her lungs full of fiberglass. En route to the subway, a rat skittered from under a bulkhead door down the sticky, empty street and into the neon light of a taco sign. The rat carried a mouse in its teeth. The mouse’s eyes were points of light straining … [Read more...] about Issue 75
Playing the Ghost
I quit Texas after Lorelei troubled my waters. Ten, fifteen years ago. I drove to New Orleans, then Biloxi and Kansas City, wherever there was nine-ball action. If I found a motor court laid out like a horseshoe, I’d rent a room for a week. A month if the pool hall had Gold Crown tables, longer yet if I met a friendly waitress. I’d been hustling in Knoxville for a year before Jesse Vodinh kicked in my door at the Sunset Motel and accused me of throwing games. Jesse was a stake horse with a … [Read more...] about Playing the Ghost