“Stormy night tonight,” my father said.
We were seated at the card table—the one flat surface in his new one-bedroom apartment. He was the one who asked for the divorce, but with good reason: my mom was gay. And though …
Fiction
Nine Goodbyes
1
My partner is scrambling eggs. He says, “Have you thought about it yet at all?” almost too softly for me to hear, and it becomes one of those times when the gayness of a gay relationship must not be …
Thirsty
This woman that I barely know is asking how I feel about kids. Kids, I say, sure.
We’re in bed, after the fact, her head on my shoulder, eyes burning up at me. Do I tell her now that …
Pinch Hitter
A guy called me up and said he was responding to the ad I put on Craigslist, that I’d do any odd job so long as it was legal. He wanted someone to sit with him while he came out …
Hard Swallow (Winner of the Tennessee Williams Very Short Fiction Contest)
She doesn’t even bother with a tease. Her bra simply falls off to reveal scars jagged like hand-drawn lightning bolts.
“Gentleman, let’s hear it for Cherry.”
I clap politely like a proud parent at a Spelling Bee while the others
Everyone
The moon starts to stalk Jonah and Sola when they meet under the gaze of the slasher club. The club is Sola’s thing because she only knits and dyes while watching cheesy horror films. She no longer apologizes for her …
Rabbit Ears
When we lived in the attic we were make-believe. We lived off Big Fizz Cola, cans of Spaghetti-O’s, and apples. We used the payphone at the deli and washed our underwear in the sink with dish soap. Sometimes I worked …
The Odds
When I could no longer take the pain, I went to my father the experimental scientist and begged him to undo my miscarriage.
“Do not be a fool, you fool,” he told me. “You must simply return to the bedroom …
Welcome, Jess
Anna was driving us to Wisconsin, and I was in the passenger seat, fussing with the white seam on my—on Anna’s—navy blue swing dress. I’d started borrowing her dresses and skirts after her eyes lit up at me the first …
Saint Rita
I’m no Catholic, but I’m thinking of Saint Rita. My friend Cathy says Rita is the Saint of the Impossible, and since we work the night shift in transcription for HealthWest, me and Cathy get the impossible from 11p to …
