Mr. Brown

My poem "Mr. Brown" now up at HIGH HORSE JOURNAL!

 

Summer at Five Minute Lit

My flash fiction "Summer" now up at Five Minute Lit!

Photo:
Lightning on Lake Michigan at Night by Mary Lee Dereske

Three Flash Fiction at Bear Creek Gazette!

I have three flash fiction pieces up now at the new Bear Creek Gazette! Thanks to editor Stuart Buck for taking all three! Honored!

https://www.welcometobearcreek.com/m60-metalheads-just-hours

They Are Few

My short story "They Are Few" now up at A Thin Slice of Anxiety online journal. I'd like to do more stories like this, and it reflects my current political mood. Other editors didn't want to touch this. Thank you Cody! 

 

Cement City (flash fiction)

My flash fiction, "Cement City," (different from my short story of the same name) in the new MINISON PROJECT literary journal, on page 24:

Fall In Empire

My short story "Fall In Empire" now up at EX PAT LIT! So happy this story found a home. Many years and many rejections. And revisions.

(Pic supplied by Ex Pat Lit on their twitter post)

Three Saint Poems

Three of my Saint Poems, Saint Lot, Saint Wife of Lot and Saint Daughter of Lot, now up at THE BIG WINDOW REVIEW!

The Hunter Down The Road

Appeared in the Summer 2017 print issue of MIDWESTERN GOTHIC, which you can buy here.

The hunter down the road

I don't like him

the way he wears camouflage all year round

how he and his buddies target practice

on what was a quiet saturday afternoon

I don't like the gun rack in the back of his truck cab

as if violence were always an option

and I don't like the spotlight on the door

for hunting deer at night

he's certainly too overweight to actually go out in the the woods

and I don't think would ever go alone

and I don't like the way he hangs their bodies

in the front yard from a tree

gutted and red for everyone to see

tho who am I to want to hide death

and providing meat to one's family is a noble ritual

and deer better than processed hormone cow

and who else am I to turn to out here in the country

finding my dog hit by some car

bloodier than the deer hung in the yard almost

tho still alive if you can call it that

who else has the gun and willingness to use it

and who else will surprise me

as I've surprised him at his front door

by walking quietly with me holding his pistol

firing three shots just to make sure it's quick

with a steady hand and a nod to me

but no enjoyment I can see

who else can I say thank you to tonight

with the echoes in the trees

The Jacket

Originally published at FAT CITY REVIEW, now defunkt. Also part of my novel BASS SOLO (first 16 pages here).

I never knew my dad growing up. Ray Brown. He and Momma never married, that’s why I have her last name, Young.

Momma usually had some kind of dude hanging around the house, so at first I didn’t know any better. But when I did figure out that the guy at the dinner table wasn’t my real father, and I asked her about it, the first time, she just looked away and said, —He gone.

—Gone where?

—Just gone.

Later when I asked again, she said he was dead. No hint of emotion when she said it either. That hurt.

—How’d he die, Momma?

—Stop asking so many questions!

But then, not much later, one of my aunts, my momma’s sister Donnette, told me while she was babysitting us. —Your daddy’s in prison. He got busted right before you was born. Him and your momma were already broken up by then, he wasn’t around. A dead beat dad and all that.

—What was he arrested for?

—What else? Drugs.

I processed that for a while. Then, —What was he like?

—Anthony, I barely knew him. Your momma never brought him around much. Or else he was keeping her from us. Either way. he was a charmer though. Ladies man. All that. He had a smile. I liked him.

She laughed. —That’s probably why she kept him away!

I asked my mom about him as soon as she got back from work. I waited up for her, way past my bed time. —Momma, Aunt Donnette says Daddy’s in prison.

—Oh Lord, Anthony, you go to sleep and don’t talk about that silliness.

—What was my daddy like? Where he at now?

She sat next to me on my bed and stroked my head. —I don’t know, child. I don’t know. He didn’t treat me right, was always getting in trouble, and I just didn’t want him messing up your life. He didn’t want to be there neither.

—How you know?

She sighed. —Anthony. If he’d loved you, he would have made an effort to clean up his act and show he wanted to stick around. He didn’t.

—And then he went to prison?

She nodded. —And then he went to prison.

—When he getting out?

She shrugged. —I don’t know. I only found out what happened through friends. I don’t see those friends no more.

I started to cry. Only a little. Just sad, not sobbing all over the place. —I want to see my daddy.

She leaned over and hugged me. —I know. I understand. I just don’t know if that will happen. It’s up to him.

—When he gets out, can I see him?

She nodded. —Maybe. If he gets out. If he wants to see you, he’ll come find you.

After she said goodnight I heard her yelling at Aunt Donnette downstairs. —Donnette! What you doing telling my boy about that low life excuse for a man?

—He gonna find out sometime, Lorraine. You should’ve told him already, instead of making up tall tales about him being dead. You messing with his head!

—Well, won’t be the first time, and now you doing it too! I just want him to grow up in peace and not have all that history dragging him down. That’s why I got out of Detroit in the first place!

Many many years later, back in Michigan visiting over the Christmas holidays, after being on tour in Europe, I was in Ann Arbor, shopping and hanging out, getting a dose of civilization before going back to Momma’s place in Jackson. I got a call on my cellphone. The number on the screen wasn’t familiar, but had a Detroit 313 area code. I answered. —Hello?

—Anthony.

A low male voice. Older. —Who is this?

—This is your father.

I went kind of numb. I didn’t know what to say.

—You there?

I breathed. —Yeah.

—Where you at?

—Ann Arbor.

—Well I’m in Plymouth. Why don’t we meet up somewhere.

—I thought you was in prison.

—I was. Now I ain’t.

—For twenty years?

—Aw, you know. I been in and out. The War on Drugs and Black People and all that.

—How’d you get my number?

—Tracked down your aunt Donnette. She gave it to me. What, you don’t want to see me? Your own father?

I wasn’t sure, but I also wasn’t sure whether I wanted to tell him that or not. So I said nothing.

—I hear you quite the musician now. You a bass player, huh?

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. —Yeah.

—What you play? Jazz? Rock?

—Jazz.

—I used to play a bit of guitar. Your momma ever tell you that?

—No, she never told me that.

My mind was screaming, Why not? Why wouldn’t she had told me something basic like that?

—Well, maybe we could play some time. Your old man could probably show you a thing or two.

It was Thursday. There used to be a blues open mic on Thursdays at a place out in Ypsilanti, east of Ann Arbor a little ways, that I used to go to. I told him about it. —We could meet there.

He laughed. —God damn! Alright son, that sounds fine to me. I’ll see you there!

That was late afternoon, so I had a few hours to think and be scared to death. I cancelled the plans I had, wandered around town some more, then drove over to Ypsi. The bar was still there, the open mic still going on, hosted by the owner, a guitar player himself. I don’t think he made money hosting a blues open mic, most guys that show up for those things are either poor, alcoholics, or middle class white guys who don’t really drink. He just liked the chance to play. Still, there were enough people to fill up most of the tables in room with the stage, off from the main bar.

I came early, but as soon as I walked in the front door I heard, —Anthony!

And there he was, sitting at the bar, smiling at me. I walked over.

He was thin. Skinny. My height, but I probably weighed thirty pounds more than him. His hair was cut real short, he was wearing old jeans with holes ripped in the knees, and a faded black sweatshirt with the arms cut out, and some dirty white Converse High-Tops. Just like I used to wear. His face was skeletal though. I mean, just gaunt, with high cheekbones and his teeth, he was missing a few, were yellow and tobacco-stained.

He stood up off the bar stool when I came over, grinning. —Goddamn, I knew it was you when walked in. Look at them dreadlocks, boy, you look like Bob Marley or something. You doing good, boy, you look strong and healthy. Your momma must of raised you right!

We hovered across from each other, about two feet apart, looking at each other. He turned and introduced the woman sitting next to him. —Tika, this here’s my son, Anthony. Long lost but now found.

She was about half his age. My age. Short black hair parted on the side. Slender. Little black dress. Long brown legs. High heels. Eye-liner and dark red lipstick and hoop earrings. I wondered what the hell she was doing with my father, but she put out her hand and smiled, and I shook it and said hello.

—Let me buy my son a drink. What you having Anthony?

We got our drinks and went into the next room to get a table, a booth against the far wall with a good view of the stage. The house band was just setting up. My father walked over and talked to the owner, putting on the charm. When he came back he pointed at me and then himself. —You and me, boy. We gonna jam and show these people how to play some real music! How’s that sound?

I smiled. Genuinely. —Yeah, that sounds good.

When it was our turn, the owner introduced us. —Coming up, we got Anthony and Ray, a father and son team to entertain you!

We got up on the stage with the house drummer and this guy on keys. I used the house bass player’s bass, a Fender P like mine. My father played the owner’s Strat. He took a while figuring out the pedals and tweaking the amplifier knobs, and we were all waiting on him. We hadn’t even talked about what we were going to play. He turned to face us, counting the beat with his left foot and head, and played the intro to “Red House.” When I played the bump bump bump bass part along with the drums, he smiled, turned, and as we came into the main section, he turned and played Hendrix’s solo, note for note, and when we came around to the start of the 12 Bar, he sang. —There’s a red house over yonder / that’s where my baby stays....

We played two more Hendrix songs, “Fire” and “Hey Joe” and had people dancing out on the floor. One of those magic moments at an open mic when the musicians are good and the audience is ready and appreciative. The whole time my father looking over at me and smiling and winking. I’ve played halls in Tokyo and London and Radio City Music Hall but that night at that little Ypsi club was one of my favorites ever.

After our three songs we returned the guitars and climbed down off the stage. My father was glowing, sweating a bit like me. He put out his hands for me to shake. —Sounded good, son. You played right in the pocket. Solid.

Then he hugged me.

We sat back in the booth and Tika was beaming. She smiled at me, all proud. —Y’all were great!

We hung out a while longer. My father got up and danced with Tika and every dude in there was watching her. My father had some moves too. All kinds of things I was learning about him.

We eventually left the bar and said goodbye out on the street. The number he’d called me from was Tika’s home number. He said to give him a call soon, so we could get together for a ‘man to man’ talk sometime over the holidays. I left him walking down Michigan Avenue, his right arm around Tika’s shoulders, singing softly.

I didn’t say anything to Momma. I waited two days then called the number. Tika answered.

—Hello Tika.

—Who this?

—Anthony. Ray’s son.

She hesitated.

—Is my father there?

Her voice sad. —No. He gone.

—Gone where?

She sighed. —Back to jail. Back to prison probably. He got arrested yesterday. I wasn’t with him. Broke parole though.

—For what?

—What else? Drugs.

—What kind of drugs?

She hesitated again. —Don’t matter.

—Rock? Ice?

—Ice.

That spear in the gut feeling. I’d thought only a woman could make me feel that way. —Alright, thanks.

—How bout you? Can you get some?

—No. I don’t do that.

She paused. —Well, you want to come get his stuff? It ain’t much, but I don’t want it. Just some clothes and shit.

I got her address and told her I’d think about it. Later that day I decided fuck it, and gave her a call, telling her I was coming over.

She had an apartment right off of I-69, at the east part of Plymouth, which was like an hour drive from Jackson. She was just back from work as some kind of secretary at Washtenaw Community College. My father’s things were in a couple drawers in the bedroom, a cardboard box and some shirts hanging in her closest. I’m not sure what I was expecting, or looking for, maybe long lost baby pictures of me, that he’d kept with him all this time. Bullshit like that. But it was mostly just clothes. Shirts and jeans. Tika took a leather jacket out of the closet. —Here, this might fit you.

I tried it on. Smelled a little like smoke and perfume mixed in with the leather. She smiled. —You look good in that.

I grabbed her and kissed her, pulling her head back and forcing my tongue in her mouth. She made a surprised grunt and tensed, but then relaxed. I turned her around and pushed her face-down on the bed.

—What you doing?

I didn’t say anything, just pulled up her skirt, yanked down her pantyhose and panties, undid my jeans, and shoved it home. She moaned, clawing the covers. —Oh lord, what you doing?

I shoved it in, laying down on top of her, pinning her, pulling her head back and kissing her neck and ears. —You like that, bitch?

While I fucked her she just kept saying, Oh shit oh shit, over and over and then I came in that tight pussy.

I lay on top of her, both of us breathing heavy. When I pulled out and rolled off of her, she stood up, pulling up her panties and torn pantyhose and pulling down her skirt. Not even looking at me, just going in the bathroom and closing the door. The shower came on.

I left. Didn’t take nothing but the jacket, which I still have.

 

Interview with me at Midwest Gothic

Another interview with me at the MIDWEST GOTHIC website for the inclusion of my poem "The hunter down the road" in their new print issue:

Order the issue here.

4 poems at Zombie Logic

Four of my poems are now up at Zombie Logic Review.

Three Poems at Zombie Logic Review

Three Michigan-related poems up now at Zombie Logic Review, out of Michigan:

Interview with me at Midwestern Gothic

Here's an interview with me at MIDWESTERN GOTHIC, a literary journal/website out of Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Zombies!

Originally appeared in NEW ERA #2 in Fall 2011:

Zombies!

Saturday Night I hate you

I don’t have a date and everyone else does except some of the other losers sitting in this cafe like me

We are all incapable of meeting and/or talking to each other

Saturday Night Bob Dylan is playing on the cafe stereo and I would love to be able to talk to someone about how he seems to be doing some of his best work now even though the radio stations will only play his stuff from the 60s and 70s

Oh Saturday Night I don’t think I can stay up for the midnight movie at the State Theatre even though I think it’s Evil Dead II and I’ve been obsessed with zombies all summer and the idea of zombie as metaphor for things such as AIDS or Iraq or otherness or even as a critique of consumer culture

Saturday Night what if zombies attacked right now?

We would all have to band together, barricade the windows and doors without getting pulled out and having our brains eaten, or worse, becoming infected and turning into zombies ourselves

Though I’m not sure we could barricade the windows successfully here they are huge

But at least we would be interacting

At least the cute barista with the nice ass would talk to me Saturday Night

Or the studious Asian woman in the corner

Or even the guy downloading internet porn onto his laptop

I download internet porn too sometimes, maybe we could be friends!

Oh Saturday Night I’ve refilled my green tea three times already

The teabag looks pretty ragged and I think I’m basically just sipping hot water now

Which is good Saturday Night because it’s cold in here

I’m cold Saturday Night and it’s not even winter yet

Saturday Night I’m scared to go home

The neighbors were already playing beer pong at two in the afternoon and blasting music so loud it was vibrating in my chest

Saturday Night I’m scared they’ll still be at it and I’ll have to call the cops but the cops won’t come or won’t do anything so I’ll lie there not being able to sleep while stupid drunk zombies have fun on a Saturday Night and I do not

Saturday Night I don’t want to be a stupid drunk zombie but sometimes that seems the easiest way

Saturday Night Saturday Night it just seems like if I were a stupid drunk zombie maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely and I might even get laid

Cement City—short story

"Cement City" appeared on CONNU.CO, which has since ceased to exist. Enjoy here:

Where are the ruins? asks Andrea.

She and Sarah sit in back. Josh drives, face lit by the dash, with Karl in the passenger seat. Heading down 127 after getting Burger King in Vandercook Lake.

Andrea holds her veggie burger in her right hand and checks her phone. 12:37. No messages. One bar. Billboards and occasional houses, roads, off the freeway.

Josh points left, east. You can see the factory over there.

Sarah blocking her view out the window. I don’t see it.

It’s the dark building, before the lights.

The lights are Cement City, adds Karl.

Andrea finally sees them. It’s not really a city is it?

Karl looks back at her. No. Not at all. I think it used to be bigger when the cement factory was actually running.

Sarah keeps looking. I still can’t see the factory.

You can’t now.

The lights of Cement City vanish in dark trees. Briefly, a lit billboard proclaims in big black letters JESUS DIED FOR YOUR SINS!!!

Sarah looks back at it. Holy shit, are we like in the south or something?

Josh chews on a fry. Actually, the Klan was big here. Like, a hundred years ago or something. I think maybe they were founded here.

In Michigan?

He nods. Yeah. I think I read it on Wikipedia.

Karl points across the northbound lane again. That’s the road.

Josh pulls his car left into the turnout and drives straight across without stopping onto a dirt road. More dark trees, most still with their leaves.

Sarah leans over to Andrea. Andrea, is anything due in Spanish tomorrow?

Andrea nods, taking her last bite. Sí. Los ejercicios de por y para.

Sarah slumps back in her seat. Shit. I hate por y para. Can I copy yours?

She wipes her mouth. Sarah!

Sarah leans back over, holding Andrea’s arm, looking up at her and smiling. Please please please?

Alright. Yeah.

Sarah lets go of her arm and sirs back. You’re so awesome.

Andrea smiles. I know.

Josh looks at her in the rear view mirror. Andrea, will you do my algebra homework for me?

Karl turns around to look are her too. Yeah Andrea, can you write my argument paper for me?

Andrea looks out the window. No. Fuck off.

Are you guys like secret lesbian lovers or something?

Sarah’s jaw drops. She leans forward and punches him in the arm. Karl! Fuck off! We are not!

Ok, jeez. I’m just saying.

Andrea hits the back of his seat. Saying what?

He raises his hands up near his face, palms out. Ok! Sorry!

When he turns back around, Andrea checks her phone again. No service.

Josh turns left again on another dirt road, heading back north. The house lights from Cement City visible a couple miles away. Does anyone want the rest of my fries?

Karl looks at them. Are they still warm?

No.

Then no.

Alright.

He rolls down his window and tosses them out.

Karl yells, Dude, what the fuck? Don’t do that!

Josh looks at him. What? I didn’t throw out the packaging. I’m just feeding the crows.

You’re affecting the environment unnaturally!

Andrea and Sarah look at each other, laughing.

Josh slows down the car, pointing left to a two track going off diagonally into the dark, with two metal posts with a chain between them. Here’s where we used to go in. It was better this way cause we didn’t have to go through town, or village, or whatever it is.

Andrea cranes her neck to look. Why’d they chain it off?

Josh looks at her in the rearview mirror. So people wouldn’t sneak in and hurt themselves.

Like we’re doing?

Exactly.

Karl gestured forward. Come on!

Josh speeds up. Sarah looks out the window. There’s like chunks of cement all over. Like, old buildings or something.

Karl nods. The whole area’s like that.

Josh points again. There. See it?

Andrea looks: A tall block of black rising out of the tree line, framed by the stars and the distant lights of downtown Jackson to the north. Wow. We’re going to climb up that?

Karl grins back at her. Yeah. Isn’t it cool looking?

Um.

Sarah stares as they pass the building to the west. Aren’t there stairs?

The two boys snicker. Josh looks back at her. It’s not full of rooms. It’s like a big storage tank or something.

Sarah looks quickly at Andrea, rolling her eyes. Oh.

They pass houses. Small, old, one-story squares. Overgrown lawns. Dirt driveways. Old cars and trucks. The road widens at the only stoplight, all four directions flashing red. Josh turns left. Most of the houses dark, some with porch or garage lights. Sometimes a soft light inside, or the blue light of television.

Karl turns sideways, facing into the car. Wouldn’t it suck if there was a cop sitting right there?

Josh checks his rearview. Dude, shut the fuck up.

A half mile, maybe less, Josh turns left yet again, on a smaller dirt road with only three or four houses on each side. He drives slowly. The last house on the left with all its lights on. Shit, I hope they don’t hear us.

Karl looks at it. How can they not hear us?

Sarah reaches over and takes Andrea’s hand, looking at her, eyes wide. Andrea squeezes her hand once and holds it with both of hers.

The road leading into tall weeds, mounds of dirt, and chunks of concrete. Broken walls. Rusty metal poles. The old factory rising above them, not a shadow anymore but a huge grey block. Next to it, on the east side, a thinner tower of the same color with some kind of girders connecting them. They pass it on the right, and Josh slows and turns around when the road forks, parking the car so it faces back out the way they came, turning the engine and lights off and they sit there a minute, looking up at the buildings.

Karl smiles at the girls. Isn’t it cool?

Andrea looks at Sarah. Sarah looks at Andrea. Um, yeah.

Scared?

Sarah nods. Kinda.

Karl reaches down between his legs and lifts up the huge black cop Maglight he brought, his father’s, a foot long and metal. Let’s go.

They get out. Josh freezes. Listen.

A dog barking nearby.

Goddammit, it’s from that fucking house. Close the doors quick!

They do and the overhead lights inside go out. The dog keeps barking. Josh puts a finger to his lips. Shh! Maybe it’ll shut up.

Sarah hugs herself, her hands deep in her black denim jacket, whispering. I have to pee!

Andrea grabs her arm, smiling and whispering too. Come on! Let’s go!

They walk down the road, holding each other up as they stumbled over rocks, giggling. When far enough away, they stop, facing back toward the boys to make sure Karl can’t hit them with the flashlight. They unzip their jeans, pulling them down and squatting, letting go.

Sarah sighs. Fuck I thought I was going to pee my pants!

Andrea laughs. Yeah, dirt roads are hard on the kidneys!

She looks up at the stars. Wow, it’s gorgeous out.

Sarah looks up. Yeah. So do you think they’re going to rape us or something?

Andrea laughs again, harder, almost falling over, reaching out to Sarah to steady herself.

Andrea! Careful! You almost made me fall in your pee!

This makes them laugh even more, neither able to talk, leaning awkwardly on their hands.

When they recover and finish, they stand and pull up their jeans. Karl waves his flashlight in the distance. Sarah leans over and whispers again. Seriously though, do you think they want to?

Sarah, they’re too nerdy to rape us. Josh would never do that.

What about Karl?

He’s just weird. I think they like us though.

Really? Which one do you want?

Sarah! I don’t know! Which one to you want?

I don’t know either.

Josh whisper-yells. Ladies! Come on!

They both cover their mouths, their laughter, and walk back.

The boys waiting in front of the car. The dog has stopped barking. Karl waves them forward with the Maglight. Come on!

The boys go first, walking fast. The girls falling behind, Andrea walking a little ahead of Sarah, helping her along.

An old decaying cement slab runs around the buildings. Karl turns on the flashlight and points at the wall. That’s the ladder.

Steel, bolted to the wall, the lowest rung about five feet above the ground. Old chunks of concrete piled under it for better access. Over the ladder, running up with it, a metal grated cover-tube.

Karl turns off the light and faces them. You guys want to go up now, or check out the rest of the place?

Sarah hugging herself again. Um, the rest of the place? Please?

Josh nods. Yeah, I haven’t seen that part.

Ok, come on.

They follow Karl around to the west corner. He turns the light back on and points to a hole in the ground, leading down to a hole in the wall. That’s how you get in the basement.

Andrea crouches down, trying to look, but can only see the jagged hole in the uncovered wall. What’s in the basement?

Just cool stuff. You’ll see.

He crouches, guiding himself down the concrete debris and through the hole, vanishing for a second, just his light filtering up, until he leans back out, smiling. Come on. I’ll keep the light on.

Josh holds out his hand to Sarah. Come on, it’s ok.

Sarah leans on him at first, then crab-legs down on all fours into the hole, squealing at the end.

Josh looks at Andrea. She nods. Ok ok....

She skitters down like Sarah, her hands scraping on rocks, ducking in and letting Karl guide her through.

Except for Karl’s Maglight, everything almost completely dark. The two girls reach out and hold each other. Sarah whispers, I’m a little scared now.

Of what?

I’m not sure.

Josh comes in with a clutter of rocks and Karl aims the light inside: A long tunnel, the ceiling just above their heads. The floor dirt, with rocks and cement chunks. Square openings spaced down the left wall, no doors, maybe four foot tall. Sarah points at the right wall. What’s that?

Karl points the light, revealing red spray-painted graffiti: SATAN!!!

Oh fuck. Sarah hugs Andrea again.

Karl shines the light on the opposite wall, on a huge upside down pentagram. I heard there used to be devil worshippers that would perform rites out here.

Sarah whispers, Shit.

Andrea squeezes her hand. Karl, shut up.

No, it’s true.

Karl.

He points the light down the tunnel. Come on.

Josh follows right behind him. Andrea holds her left arm around Sarah and grabs the back of Josh’s jacket. They stop once to look in another of the side openings, opening into a small room, or storage area, still with a dirt floor, though free of any rocks. More graffiti, but they don’t go in to read it.

Karl talking quietly. When convicts escaped from the prison they used to hide out in here.

Karl!

The hall opens into a room. He makes a slow sweep, revealing sections,. The ceiling higher, and chunks of it have fallen down. Karl points to the floor. Watch out for that shit.

A larger section of the ceiling has fallen, leaving a large hole letting in a column of dark light from outside. Underneath, a pile of huge concrete slabs. Ten feet away, a five by five square hole leading down. Josh walks closer to it. How deep is that?

Not sure. Karl walks right over to the edge, leading the rest of them, and looks down. I don’t see bottom.

Andrea pulls herself and Sarah closer to Josh. Karl, don’t! Don’t get so close!

Don’t worry Andrea.

He comes back and points the light over to one wall and a ladder bolted onto it, leading down into another hole, with water up to the edge. I guess there’s a whole bunch of tunnels underneath here and the town finally just filled them all with water to stop people from going down.

Andrea whispers in Sarah’s ear. Are you ok?

Sarah nods, but in the faint light her eyes are watery.

Karl, let’s go back, ok?

Sure, come on.

He walks them over to the hole in the ceiling and stands on one of the slabs. We can get out this way. I’ll pull you up.

He hands Josh the Maglight and jumps, catching the ledge, pulling himself up and out. Leaning back down, holding out his hand. Come on Sarah.

Andrea helps her up on the slab, holding her by the waist and lifting as Karl pulls. Sarah squeaks, legs swinging. Ow! Fuck!

Andrea calls up, Sarah, are you ok?

Yeah. Shit!

She swings first one, then the other leg up and out. Karl reachs down again. Your turn Andrea.

She gets up on the slab and reaches for his hand. Josh comes up behind and boosts her by the waist. Karl pulls until she can hook her elbows and waist over the edge, the jagged concrete digging into her stomach. Ow!

She rolls sideways and pulls her legs out, rolling over again, away from edge. Breathing heavy, standing up. They stand between the big building and long tower next to it, right under the girders running far above.

Josh tosses up the Maglight and pulls himself up and out, swearing. Andrea helps Sarah stand up. We made it.

Sarah undoes her hair tie, brushes back her hair, and tied it back up. Yeah. Almost without injury.

They all stare up at the girders: Four, in square formation, with smaller lengths running perpendicularly across, connecting them. Karl shines the light up, but it doesn’t reveal any more than what they could already see.

I heard one time they found a dog hanging from there. Someone had cut its throat and the blood splattered all over here.

Sarah sucks in her breath and looked at Andrea. Andrea shakes her head. Karl, that’s not true.

Yeah it is.

He turns off his light. Whatever. Want to go up?

Andrea looks at Sarah. Sarah, do you want to go home?

Sarah shakes her head. No, I’m ok, really.

Cool. Come on. Karl walks away, swinging his Maglight.

They follow around the corner back to the ladder. Karl turns around to face them. I think I should go first, then Sarah and Andrea, like we did over at the hole. Don’t worry. It’s scary, but it’s safe. The ladder isn’t loose or anything. It’s bolted into the cement.

He tries putting the Maglight in one of his jacket pockets but it didn’t even come close to fitting. Shit. Does anyone have like deep pockets?

They check. Andrea swings open her leather jacket. I’ve got an inner one that’s deep.

Here. He hands it to her and it goes in two-thirds of the way. When she zips her jacket up, the Maglight stayed upright, without moving too much. I guess it’ll work

Be careful with it Andrea. My dad’ll kill me if it breaks.

Josh laughs. Yeah, and don’t drop it on my head!

She smiles. I promise.

Karl reaches up to the bottom rung of the ladder and pulls himself up, grabbing the second, then the third, until he can hook his right foot onto the bottom one. He grins down briefly, then starts to climb.

Josh looks at Sarah. Ready?

She stares up after Karl. I guess so.

She stands on the pile of rocks, reaching up, and Josh steps next to her, putting his hands together for her to step into, raising her up while she walks her hands up the wall.

Grab the rung!

She does and he raises her up more until she gets her other foot on the bottom rung. When he pulls his hands away, she hangs there a second, her free leg swinging. I can’t!

Andrea moves under, holding her arms out. Sarah, it’s ok! Just stand up!

Sarah took a deep breath, straightens her leg, quickly putting the other foot on the rung. She laughs. Oh. Duh. That was easy.

Are you ok?

Yeah. She looks up. Shit. Wow. Ok.

She starts climbing slowly.

Josh looks at Andrea. Ready?

She nods and he lifts her up. She grabs the first rung, the second, pulling  herself up to the third, banging her knee on the bottom rung. Ow! Shit!

You ok?

Yeah. She pulls herself up to the next rung, swinging her other leg up to the bottom one. Ok.

She rests a second, the cold metal ladder vibrating from Karl and Sarah above her. She looks up at the small white dots of Sarah’s Converse High-Tops moving.

Climbing, slowly, making sure at last three of her appendages touch the ladder at all times. She hears and feels Josh jump up onto the ladder below her, feet scrambling on the wall. She looks down: he looks small. She looked up: Sarah looks small too. Shit. She keeps climbing and hears Karl yell down something to them muffles by a breeze. Out to her left, freeway carlights.

Hey Andrea, are you alright?

Josh already just below her.

Yeah. Just slow. Sorry.

No worries.

She climbs faster, making a rhythm, one arm with the opposite leg. The flashlight banging softly against her left breast. She catches up to Sarah, with Josh still right behind her. Sarah breathing heavy, moving slowly. She stops and looks down at them. Sorry!

Sarah, it’s ok. I’m not rushing you.

I know, but it’s a little scary.

I know.

When they get to the top, Andrea pauses while Sarah disappears over the edge. Karl leans over smiling. Come on Andrea. Almost there.

I know.

The last rung of the ladder actually above the ledge. She grips it with both hands and swings her right leg up and over, sitting briefly on her building edge, then hopping up and over, where Sarah and Karl catch and steady her. Sarah hugs her. We did it! Yay!

Andrea smiles. You’re awesome Sarah.

So are you!

Josh comes up and over, grinning. Woo hoo! He lifts his arms up and turns around, looking out. Fuck yeah!

The top of the building flat, with the three foot ledge running around the circumference. And not actually the top: thick square columns support a tin roof. On the floor, powdery dirt. The breeze stronger, but not too cold.

Karl already walking around. He points to some one by one foot square holes in the floor. Careful of these. There’s more of them. I don’t know if it’s actually possible to fall into them, but you could fuck yourself up.

How far down do they go?

Basically all the way down I think. I think this whole place is empty inside. Come on!

He runs off to the other side of the building. Josh smiles at the girls and follows. Sarah turns at Andrea. Are we going?

Hold on.

She unzips her jacket and takes out the Maglight, turning it on and off real quick. I think I’m going to have a bruise on my boob from this thing.

Sarah laughs. But now you have the rod of power!

The cock?

The penis!

Are you envious?

Yes! I want one too!

The boys laughing over on the other side. Andrea turns and looks out. The highway off to the right. Houses and lights sprinkled in the darkness. Some city lights way off to the south. Maybe Hudson. Wow.

Sarah stands next to her. Yeah. It’s cool up here. I’m glad we did this.

Andrea looks at her and Sarah looks up smiling. Andrea leans down and kisses her.

Sarah’s eyes go wide and she pulls away. Andrea, no. I don’t—

Andrea takes a step back. I’m sorry. I thought you would like it. I’m sorry.

No, it’s ok, it’s just....I don’t....

Shit.

I mean, thank you, but....

No, I understand. It’s ok.

Sarah smiles. Ok. Let’s go see what they’re doing.

I’ll come over in a sec.

Sarah hesitates. Are you sure?

Andrea nods. Yeah.

Ok.

Sarah walks away and Andrea looks after her. Shit. Shit shit shit.

She holds the Maglight horizontal, waist high, and flips it, catching the handle as it rotates.

Sarah’s voice: Karl don’t!

Andrea walks quickly over, on the east side of the building, where the girders go out to the smaller tower.

He has climbed out onto them, weaving through the crossbeams. Sarah and Josh standing at the ledge, Sarah with her hands half-covering her face. Karl, please don’t!

Andrea leans out on the ledge. Karl, don’t be an asshole. Come back.

He grins back at them. I’m ok. Really.

Karl, don’t. It’s fucking dangerous and you’re scaring us.

Alright!

He swings around. A chunk of cement breaks off and he slips, left leg shooting out horizontal. He twists, reaching for the ledge, his body hitting the girder. Sarah screams. Andrea lunges halfway over the ledge, dropping the Maglight. Karl grips the girder but slides off sideways, hanging by one arm, reaching for Andrea, and falls, following the spinning light down.

Dogs barking again in the distance.

Question!

Originally appeared in the Huron River Review in 2011.

Question!

What are you doing here?

Do you want some coffee?

Are you alone?

Are you from Michigan originally?

How many cats do you own?

Are you worthy?

What time does the bus come?

Do you like vanilla scones?

Do you like pictures of naked women?

Is it ok if I call you dude?

How long have you had those jeans?

Why don’t you meditate?

Can you see the moon from where you’re standing?

Do you know where my keys were?

Why did you kiss that person?

Is it something you regret?

Terribly?

Have you ever touched a dolphin?

What does Hong Kong smell like?

How old are you really?

In dog years?

Do you speak dog?

What kind of tattoo do you secretly want?

If vampires were real, would you?

What’s the ancient Greek word for girlfriend?

Hot or mold?

On a scale of one to ten, ten being extremely curious, how annoying are blimps to you?

Which of the three Fates accurately describes you?

Who would win, a shark, or Plato?

What is your CB handle?

What is your secret email name, the one you use for answering online singles ads?

How often will we run into each other at glory holes?

¿Dónde está el baño?

Can I have a glass of water with no ice please?

Can I avoid talking to the homeless guy?

Can I afford not to?

Can you find any salmon in this river?

Can you find the shark?

Can you still bet on Plato?

Why would you say a dog has no Buddha nature?

Do you have something against dogs?

Why do you distinguish between light and dork?

Do you not have something against distinguishing?

Do you think pantyhose are sexy?

How can I stop?

Would you like some ice-cream?

Would you like some salmon?

Would you like a shark?

Would your vampire like a shark?

Would your dog like a CB handle?

Are the vanilla scones terribly alone?

Is it ok if your cats see the moon?

In dog years?

What time does your tattoo annoy your ancient Greek girlfriend?

¿Dónde están los online singles ads with no ice?

How often will the Fates be mild?

How often hot?

Why did you kiss that person?

That person?

That person?

Why don’t you meditate?

Haven’t you ever touched a dolphin in Hong Kong?

What are you still doing here?

Song For Girl In Window

Originally published in the Huron River Review back in 2010:

Song for girl in window

One night young and poor

barely in college

walking by a sorority house

on the main busy street

happening to look up

at a window on the second floor

with the shade raised

just enough for a space

just enough to see the girl inside

dressing

her underwear black and shiny

long curly brown hair

and warm-looking skin

stopping and staring

though shamed

by the people in cars driving by

wondering if

she ever would have talked to me

what she was like

where she was going

what kind of dress she was going to put on

and for who

thinking about that girl

many times in the last fifteen years

when I have forgotten the names

of women I have kissed 

RUST—novel excerpt

First 20 pages or so of my (unpublished) novel RUST, including the intro in italics. Enjoy.

Glaciers shaped the lower peninsula of Michigan like a mitten by during the Ice Age, gouging out the five Great Lakes around it. People out in the country still find weird geologist nerds stopping in front of their lawns in order to look at big rocks that were carried hundreds, maybe thousands (!) of miles in ice. Jackson, Michigan, if the mitten is the right hand facing up, is where the Life Line curves down and ends almost at the wrist, between the two meaty sections at the bottom. Though Native Americans had been around for thousands of years, Jackson was ‘founded’ in 1829 by Horace Blackman, who named it after President Andrew Jackson, a Democrat, but if you go to the corner of Second and Franklin, just south of downtown, there’s a small park with a plaque titled “Under The Oaks” describing the founding the Republican Party on July 6, 1854. The population hub of Detroit and the communist city-state of Ann Arbor represent the liberal parts of Michigan. The rest of the state, including Jackson, is the generally conservative part, though Michiganders are a weird mix: They can overwhelmingly elect a democratic governor, but will at the same time overwhelming vote to ban gay marriage. Most of the people belonging to the Democratic Party do so in order to protect their union jobs. And look how well that’s worked.

Jackson became known as a small parts city, with smaller factories supplying the bigger ones in Detroit, though as more and more jobs go south, to other states, and other countries, the less small parts are needed. And there’s never been anything to replace those jobs, except rich people from Ann Arbor and Detroit who became willing to make the commute in order to get cheaper houses. When the feds eased restrictions on drilling on government land out in places like Utah and Wyoming, job recruiters came all the way to Jackson to find people who wouldn’t mind the harsh winters in places like Casper. And they got takers.

Economically and geographically, Jackson is right in the middle of the Rust Belt, which stretches from Minnesota to Pennsylvania, and was coined for the decline in iron and steel production in the 70s, but grew to include the decline in all the manufacturing industries, like cars. Starting with the Industrial Revolution, and Henry Ford’s new factory system, and especially after the first World War, many African-Americans moved up for all the new jobs assembling cars on the assembly lines of Detroit and surrounding cities. This was not without some conflict. With too many people for too few jobs, as is usually the case, the poor whites blame the poor blacks, instead of the rich white guys running the car companies, or the rich white politicians ‘running’ the system. White people abandoned city centers for the suburbs (“white flight”) and, starting in the 60s, Detroit and other cities in the state have had their share of race riots. Yes, even into the 21^st century, though you won’t hear about it on the news anymore.

Jackson is about two thirds white, one third black, and only a sprinkling of latinos filtering up in search of well-paying dishwashing jobs. There are a few Asians, from Asian countries proper, plus the Indian sub continent and the Middle East, all safely belonging to the upper middle class. For the most part, these different groups get along, now, though of course they all stay in our respective cultures: At school: black kids at one table, white kids at another. On the bus: black kids in their seats (yes, usually in the back) and white kids in theirs. In restaurants, white folks at their tables, black folks at theirs. Only at Jackson Community College is it different: white kids in all the college-prep transfer classes, poor whites in developmental and trade classes, and blacks hardly anywhere.

Michigan was logged completely back in the day, when everyone thought the trees of North America would last forever. Most of the trees you see there now are 2^nd or 3^rd generation. Along with, and after, logging, came farming, and you can still see fields and fields of corn around Jackson, though less and less than even a few decades ago. Summers in Jackson are hot and humid, with flies and mosquitoes. When you’ve been gone for awhile, you forget how lush the area is: cornstalks tall and green, trees bending out over the roads, forming green tunnels. Thunderstorms lasting days, the thunder soothing though, you can fall asleep to it.

Fall is the best time in Jackson. Leaves turning, sometimes amazingly, red, yellow, orange. Nights cool, all the bugs gone, and it feels good to put on a jacket and go for a walk, looking at the stars, brighter with the drier air. We know what’s coming, so we enjoy the sun and the outdoors as much as we can, unless we’re inside watching college football. The first snow nice, pleasant, beautiful, especially since the sun still comes out afterwards and keeps everything brighter than it’s been in a while. If we’re lucky, the big snow doesn’t come until December, though sometimes it can come as early as October.

But then January comes and there’s no excuse, nor escaping: it’s full on Winter, the feet of snow, eyeball-freezing wind, and the vanishing of the sun until April. You get up in the dark, work inside somewhere all day, and come back in the dark. Not that there’s sky to see: just grey clouds all the time, something to do with being surrounded by Great Lakes. Winter in Colorado, for example, is nice because there is sun in the daytime, and with the high altitude, the temperature can get up in the 40s. In Michigan, when it gets in the 40s, teenagers wears shorts. There’s also no social life in Jackson in Winter. Many would argue there’s no social life in Jackson period, but in Winter it’s hard to feel attractive when bundled up in five layers, head tucked down. Better just to just stay in, rent movies and eat Doritos, with a partner if you’re lucky. If not, that’s what internet porn was invented for.

Then Spring. The sun comes out. The snow melts. The lake ice melts. The sandhill cranes come back. The tulips in Ella Sharp Park bloom. Little buds appear on trees, then actual leaves. And grass, the Great American lawn becomes visible and men can finally mow their lawns.

I found her in the woods behind the subdivision by my house, between the dirt road and the lake, lying on her back in the weeds. Black dress. One of her black leather shoes missing. Short brown hair like my sister Jenna. Her eyes still open. Her lower lip cut with dried blood.

I knew her. My old babysitter’s sister. I couldn’t remember her name. I knelt down and touched her. Her blouse wet from the dew. The ribs underneath. I touched her bare leg. Cold. Smooth. I pressed down on the skin. Her eyes staring out away from me. I picked a piece of leaf from her hair and traced my finger down her cheek. Cold.

I stood up and looked around. Nothing, no one. Just trees. The road, the lake. I bent down and lifted her skirt and looked.

I dropped her skirt and stood up, looking. Then I ran away.

My mom was back from Ann Arbor, sitting on a couch grading papers, listening to cuban jazz and drinking tea. She looked at me as I came in and tilted her head. —Danny, what’s wrong?

—She’s dead.

—Dead? What do you mean? Who?

—Jennifer’s sister. In the woods out back by the lake. She’s dead. I saw her.

She put down her tea and got up. —Jennifer? Jennifer Streeter? Her sister? Danny are you sure? This isn’t playing?

I shook my head. —No. She’s there.

—Can you show me?

She called to Jenna that we would be right back and took me in our car out on the dirt road. I told her when to stop and we got out. She held my hand and I led her through the trees to the girl. When she saw the body she said, —Oh my god.

She ran over to it. covered her mouth with one hand, and started to cry. Then she turned around and took me back to the car.

We drove home and she called the police. She put more water on the stove for tea and stood there holding her hands over the teapot. By the time the tea was ready a police car drove into the driveway with its lights flashing.

My mom talked to them, then went with them to show the body. She was gone a while. I turned on the tv. Jenna came out and sat next to him. —What’s going on?

—I found Jennifer’s sister in the woods. She’s dead.

Her eyes got wide. —Dead? Where?

—By the lake.

—You saw her?

—Yeah.

—What was she like?

—Like...she was sleeping, except her eyes were open and she didn’t move.

—What did she look like?

The police car pulled back into the driveway and my mom got out with an officer. They came inside and my mom took Jenna back to her room. The officer came and sat next to me. —Hello Danny, my name’s Kyle. I’m with the Jackson County Sheriff’s Department. Can I talk to you for a minute?

I kept staring at the tv. —Ok.

—Do you mind if I turn off the tv?

—No.

The officer got up and turned it off and sat back down. He took out a notebook. —Danny, first we want to thank you for what you did. It was very brave.

I didn’t say anything.

—Did you see anything else there? Any people?

—No. Just her.

—I thought so. I had to ask. Did you touch the body at all?

I shook my head. —No.

—And she’s your babysitter’s sister?

I nodded. —Yeah.

—Did you know her? Did she every babysit you?

I shook his head again. —No. I’ve just seen her.

The officer nodded slowly. —How exactly did you find her?

—I was walking in the woods. I was going out to the lake and I saw her color. It was different. So I went over and it was her.

—How close did you get?

—Just...so I saw her eyes and then I knew she was dead.

—How do you feel right now?

—Sad.

—Me too.

—Did somebody kill her?

—Well...yes.

—Who?

—We don’t know. But we will.

He put his hand on my head. —Listen, Danny. If you like, you can talk to somebody about this. A therapist. It’s ok to be sad. Sometimes people like to talk about being sad and it helps.

I stared at the floor. —I’m ok.

—Are you sure? I talked with our mom and she said it would be up to you.

—I’m ok.

—How old are you and your sister?

—I’m eleven, she’s ten. We’re in the same grade though.

Danny nodded.

—Ok, well...I just need to take some notes real quick and then I’ll leave you alone. Ok?

—Ok.

After he wrote something, he stood up. —Thank you Danny. Do you want the tv back on?

—Ok.

My mom came back out and offered the officer some tea but he said no. They went outside to the car. I went over to the window and listened.

—Will he be ok?

—I think so. I just wanted to be sure he didn’t look too closely. Then I would be worried. Just...be around him. If he looks bad give that therapist a call. She’s good. But, I think it’ll be ok.

—Ok, thank you. Is there....

—Any danger? Shouldn’t be, for your family. This was...sexually related.

—Sexually related. The poor girl....

When she came back in I was watching tv again. She sat down and asked how I was, stroking my forehead.

—I’m ok Mom.

—Are you sure baby?

—I’m ok. I’m sad is all.

—I know.

—She seemed nice.

She kissed him. —You’re very sweet. How about we go out to eat tonight? Do you want pizza?

—Ok. Can we go to Sir Pizza?

—Wherever you want baby.

That night I was still awake when Jenna opened my bedroom door and whispered my name. She came in and got under the covers with me. I stared at the ceiling while she looked at me in the dark.

—Will you tell me about her now?

—Like what?

—Like what she was wearing.

I was quiet for a second. —A dress. She only had one shoe.

—Did you touch her?

—Yeah. She was cold.

I touched Jenna. —And harder. Not like you.

—Was she still pretty?

—Yes....

—Did somebody kill her?

—Yes.

She rubbed her eyes. —That’s sad.

I kept staring at the ceiling. —I looked up her skirt.

She stopped crying. —You did? What was it like?

I didn’t say anything.

—What was it like?

—There was blood. I think he killed her there.

—There? How?

—I don’t know.

—Did you tell?

—Not about that.

She snuggled up to me and rested her head on my shoulder. —I wish they could have left her alone. Are you sad?

I touched her arm. —Yes.

—Why don’t you cry?

I closed his eyes. —I don’t know.

I stayed up in bed looking at my clock until eleven o’clock, then went out to the living room to watch the news on television. They talked about her.

Our top story tonight, police recovered the body of eighteen year old Wendy Streeter, reported missing yesterday. The police say they have detained an acquaintance of hers. Relatives report that the two people were intimate, and police have said it is a quote crime of passion unquote. Funeral services will be held on Wednesday at St. John’s Church. In other news, another Michigan soldier has been killed in a car bomb explosion in Baghdad....

I turned the television off and went back to my room, but stopped when I saw there was still a light on in my mom’s room. I hesitated, then knocked softly. —Mom?

—Danny? Come in...

I opened the door. She was reading in bed, one large candle lit on the bedstand next to her futon. She put her book down and looked at me. —What is it baby?

—Mom, what’s passion?

—Passion?

She sat up and motioned me to sit on the bed. —What do you mean?

I sat down. —What does it mean?

—Well...it’s love. It’s strong love. Extreme love.

I stared at the floor.

—So when someone is passionate about something that’s all they think about. Like, someone can have a passion for playing music. They’re passionate.

I nodded. —Oh. But...can you be passionate about a person?

—Um, yes. Usually it’s about doing something, but yes.

—But if you’re passionate about someone, why would you kill them?

—What? Baby, is this about that girl?

—Yes. They said it was a crime of passion.

—Oh. Oh. Jeezus. The poor girl.

—Was it her boyfriend?

—I guess so. If they said that, then probably. I guess...maybe he...I guess he was jealous. That’s usually what it means.

—Jealous of what?

—Of...another man. Maybe she was with another man and her boyfriend found out and...killed her.

—Why?

—Baby I don’t know. People are...fucked up. Just fucked up. It’s not right to do that.

—But...he loved her?

—Well...maybe. In a way. But not in a good way

—How do you know when you love someone in a good way?

—When you don’t want to hurt them.

—But....ok. But...why was she with another man?

She sighed. —Baby...sometimes that happens. I’m not saying it’s right but...sometimes you get attracted to another man. Or woman. Then...it’s a big mess.

—Did she love the other man?

She shook her head. —I don’t know. Only she knows.

—But did she love her boyfriend?

—Maybe. Maybe she used to and then didn’t. Maybe she never did.

—Why would she be with both of them if she didn’t love either of them?

—Well...people can be attracted to people. You can like someone without loving them. Love comes later?

—And one person can love someone even if the other person doesn’t love them?

She sighed again. —Yes.

—Why do people fall in love?

She smiled. —Nobody knows. But it feels good when both people do.

—It feels passionate?

—Um...yes. You can’t think of anyone else.

—So why is it a crime?

—Oh. Well, when someone loves someone else, passionately, but the other person doesn’t feel the same way...that can hurt. So...I guess he wanted to hurt back.

She touched my shoulder. —But promise you’ll never do that to someone. Never hurt anyone.

—Even if they hurt me?

—No. It doesn’t make things better. With this girl, now her family is hurt.

—But you said that if someone feels passionate they don’t think about anything else.

—Yes....

—So...I don’t want to feel passionate about anyone. Ever.

—Baby, why?

—Because if they didn’t feel the same way it would hurt.

—Oh baby, come here.

She hugged him. —It’s ok to feel that. If you find a girl and feel that way, it’s ok.

—What if...she doesn’t?

—Then...her loss. And there will be others.

I yawned. —But...

—Baby go to sleep. You’re too young to be worrying about this stuff. Too heavy.

I stood up. —Mom?

—What?

—Can I go to the funeral?

—Oh. Sure baby. We’ll go. That’s very... nice of you.

My mom picked me up after lunch from school and we drove to the funeral at St. John’s Church. There were lots of people. It was an open casket, but we sat in back so I couldn’t see her very well. The minister talked and I looked around at the other people. Her family sat in front. Jennifer was between her parents, wearing a black dress. The mother was slouched over, crying the whole time. The father just say there straight with red eyes. The other sister sat next to them in a wheelchair in the aisle, wearing a military uniform.

After the minister finished speaking, everyone stood in line to view the body. I waited in line with my mom’s hands on my shoulders. Jennifer’s mom bent over the coffin and cried until the father and Jennifer helped her away.

When I finally stood next to her, she looked like she had in the grass. Sleeping. Hair brushed, shiny. Hands crossed on her chest. Eyes closed this time. I touched her arm.

My mom grabbed my hand and drew it back, whispering, —Danny no, it’s disrespectful.

I looked up at her as they walked away. —I just wanted to touch her.

—Well....don’t. Come on.

I looked back at her face one more time.

The family stood at the doors to greet people. Jennifer was first. She held out her arms and hugged me. —Oh Danny. I’m so sorry. Thank you.

Her body was warm. Her hair in my face. Apples. —I’m sorry Jennifer.

She looked at me and started to cry, then leaned over to her mother and whispered in her ear. The mother’s eyes got wide and she started to cry again. She leaned down and hugged me. —Oh my boy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Thank you.

The father held out his hand. —Son, thank you for finding her.

He shook his hand and looked up at him. —I’m...I’m sorry. She seemed like...I could have liked her.

The father closed his eyes hard. Looked at him again. —Thank you son.

When we got to the car I asked my mom if I could skip the rest of the school day. She said yes and dropped me off at home.

I went for a walk back into the woods and took the path over to the lake, back to the spot. The grass was matted down everywhere. Tire tracks. I found where her body had been. Still the outline in the grass. I touched the matted grass where her legs had been and traced up. I traced up to her head and stroked the grass like her hair. Then I cried.

Wednesday night was our night out with our dad. He picked me up from the house and Jenna from her dance class. We went to Pizza Hut, like always. The manager smiled at my dad when we came in. —Hey, got a booth for you in the corner like you like.

My dad smiled. He liked to feel important. We sat in the booth and Anne, our usual, and Dad’s favorite, waitress, came over and smiled. —Hi, the usual? Let’s see, two Pepsis and one water for the thirsty dancer, and a large pan pizza with pepperoni.

She winked at Jenna. —How are you? How’s the dancing?

Jenna smiled, shy. —Fine.

—Ok, I’ll be right back with your drinks.

She turned and walked away with the menus. I watched my dad watch her, then I looked at her. Her pants were black and tight and I could see the lines of her underwear. I looked at my dad who was still watching. Jenna played with her fork. —I like Anne.

My dad played a video game on his phone. I looked around at the other people. Jenna played with her fork and knife. Anne came back with their drinks. —Here we go, two Pepsis for the boys, and a water for the ballerina. And here’s your straws.

Jenna smiled. —Thank you Anne.

—You’re welcome, ballerina. Your pizza will be right out.

Dad went back to playing his phone. Jenna tore off the tip of the straw cover, turned the straw around, and blew the cover at me. My dad looked at her. —Jenna, stop that.

She looked down at her lap. —Sorry....

I looked around at the people again. The restaurant was busy. I drank some Pepsi.

Eventually the pizza came. Anne cut out the first pieces for us, Jenna first, then me, then my dad. Jenna smiled. —Thank you Anne!

Anne winked and walked away.

We ate. Jenna had two pieces and my dad and I ate the rest. My dad paid with a credit card and we left. My dad gave me the keys and told me to take Jenna out to the car.

—Why?

—I’ll be there in a second.

I took Jenna’s hand and led her outside to the car.

From the front seat I could see through the restaurant door. My dad was talking to Anne. She nodded at something and looked out the door and saw me. She wrote something on a piece of paper and gave it to him. Then he came out to the car.

Jenna touched his shoulder from the back seat. —Daddy, what were you doing?

He looked at her in the rear-view mirror. —Nothing.

—Are we going to the arcade now?

—Yes.

He drove us to the mall and parked. We got out and went inside to Aladdin’s Castle, dark and red and loud with bleeps and buzzes and explosions and bells. My dad got five dollars worth of tokens and gave us each four to start out. I played games and sometimes watched Jenna play and sometimes my dad when I had to ask for more tokens. When the tokens were done, we left and went back to my dad’s apartment. He turned on the tv and we sat down and watched a MASH rerun. Later, he made popcorn with oil and lots of salt. At nine o’clock my dad and Jenna wanted to watch a show that I didn’t like, so I asked my dad if I could watch the tv in his bedroom. I went in and lay on the bed, using the remote to turn the tv on, propping myself up with pillows and watching his show.

During a commercial, I noticed the top drawer to the night stand slightly open. I opened it all the way and inside was a stack of magazines called Penthouse, with beautiful women on the covers. He took the top one out and opened it to the center to a two-page picture of a naked woman lying on a bed smiling. Showing herself and smiling. She had hair between her legs and fancy jewelry and shiny hair, and she smiled like she liked me looking at her. I turned the pages with more pictures of her. I kept turning pages. There were stories and articles, but then more pictures of another naked woman. Then pictures of two women together. In their underwear and then naked. Kissing and touching each other.

I kept looking. Once I heard my dad get up and I put the magazine away quickly, shutting the drawer. When he sat back down, I opened the drawer again and looked at the magazine until I heard my mom knock at the front door. I put the magazine away and turned off the tv and went out. My mom knocked again. I went to the door and opened it. My mom smiled. —Hey baby, ready to go?

—Yeah.

She looked at my dad. —Hello Sean. Jenna, ready to go?

Jenna was sitting next to my dad half-asleep. She shook her head. —I don’t want to go.

—Baby, it’s late. You need to get home and go to sleep.

—Noooo...

Jenna snuggled up to my dad.

My mom sighed. —Sean, come on.

My dad sighed too. —Alright. Jenna, come on. Time to go.

—Daddy, no....

—Come on. I’ll see you this weekend.

Jenna got up and slouched out. My dad got up and walked over and patted him on the head. —See ya, kiddo.

—Bye.

I turned around and walked to the end of the hall after Jenna. The door was still open enough to heard my parents’ voices. My mom’s got louder. My dad said something and my mom came out slamming the door behind her. She walked past him. —Come on baby....

Driving home, Jenna slept in the back seat. I sat up front and put my face against the window, the glass cool on my cheek.

My mom kept switching radio channels. —Did you have a good time tonight?

I nodded. —Yeah....

That night, in bed, in the dark, I thought about the woman. I held my pillow and imagined it was her, that I was holding her. I rubbed against the fabric like I was rubbing against her and my penis got hard. I turned over on top of the pillow and rubbed, breathing heavy and thinking about her smile and between her legs and then stuff squirted out of my penis. I thought I’d peed myself. I sat up and turned on the light. It wasn’t pee. It was thicker and white. I turned off the light, turned over the pillow, and lay on my back, touching the white stuff still on my stomach, and fell asleep.

I was the last one the school bus dropped off, forty-five minutes after leaving school. I never got a key to the house because I’d figured out how to break in, which was to climb up on the shelf of empty flower beds below the front windows, pull off a screen and set it to the side, then push open one of the windows and slid inside. I’d shut the window, going around to the front door, outside, and put the screen back on. Then I’d go back inside and maybe make popcorn and watch cartoons. If I got tired, which was most of the time, I would go in my room and take a nap.

That night, after picking Jenna up from dance class, my mom got a pizza at Little Caesar’s and came home. I was sleeping but heard them come home and came out. We ate and afterwards my mom sat both of us down on the couch and kneeled down in one of her yoga poses, smiling. —I have really important news to tell you guys. But first of all I want you both to know I love you. And, I just found out today that I’m going to Mexico for a year!

We both stared at her.

—I just found out I got a fellowship to study Spanish for a year there. I...wasn’t sure I’d get it. I leave in three weeks, after you guys get out of school. But, I wanted to say, to ask you both, if that’s ok with you? That I go?

Jenna’s eyes started to water. —You’re leaving?

My mom put her hands on Jenna’s knees. —Not for good baby. I’ll be back before you know it. And this way your father can come live here and you can be with him.

—I hate you!

Jenna got up and ran to her room, slamming the door.

My mom closed her eyes and sighed. —Shit.

She looked at me. —Baby, I’m going to go talk to your sister, ok?

—Ok.

—Are you mad?

—No.

—Ok, I’ll be right back.

She went to Jenna’s room and knocked. I could hear everything.

—Go away!

—Jenna baby, I’m going to come in.

—No!

My mom opened the door and went in, leaving the door open. Jenna was crying.

—Jenna baby, don’t be mad at me. It hurts.

—I hate you! You don’t love me....

—That’s not true baby. Come here, let me hug you.

—I don’t want you to hug me. I don’t like you. You’re always doing things. Why can’t you be a normal mom?

—Baby, what’s a normal mom?

—Someone who stays. I don’t like having you for a mom. All my friends make fun of me.

—Oh baby, why? What kind of friends are those?

—Why are you leaving?

—I’m not leaving forever. It’s only a year. Baby, this is really important to me.

—Can’t you stay here and do it?

—No, not really. Baby, this is exciting for me. I want you to be happy for me.

Jenna sniffling. —Why can’t you stay?

—Honey...there’s nothing here for me in Jackson. I want to learn things from the world. I want to show you that it’s possible to do that. I don’t want you to stay here all your life.

—I like it here....

—Well...this way you’ll get to be with your dad. I know how much you like him. You can see him all the time.

Jenna’s voice got louder. —Why can’t you be normal? You don’t like me. You like Danny but you don’t like me.

—That’s not true. I like you both.

—You don’t like me! You laugh at me!

—No I don’t baby. When did I do that?

—When...when I asked you about boys, you laughed and made fun of me!

—Baby, I don’t remember that, but I’m sorry if I did.

—Don’t leave!

My mom started to cry. —Please baby, don’t say that. I really really really need to go. I don’t like it here. I need to leave. Please, please say it’s ok.

She sniffled again. —Fine. Ok....

My mom came back out to the living room, still crying a little. —Danny baby, are you ok?

—Yeah.

She sat and put her arm around me. She always smelled like tea tree oil. —Baby, you know I love you, don’t you?

—Yeah.

—Is it ok if I go?

—Yeah. I want you to. I want you to be happy.

She started to cry again. —Thank you baby, that’s sweet. You know, I’m not sure what it will be like, but I thought, maybe, you could come live with me and go to school there. I don’t know yet and I didn’t want to say anything to your sister. I’m not even sure you would want to, but maybe. I’ll see. Would you like that?

—I don’t know.

—I know, it’s scary. I’m scared too. But, that’s why I want to go, a little. I’ve never done something scary. Do you understand?

—I think so.

She hugged me. —I’m going to miss you. Will you miss me?

My eyes started tearing up. I wiped them. —Yes.

—Will you write me letters? I’ll be lonely down there.

I stood up, still rubbing his eyes. —Ok.

—Oh baby, are you ok?

—Yeah mom. I’m just going to bed.

She touched my arm. —Do you want to snuggle?

—No....

—Ok my big boy.

I went into my room and closed the door and got in bed in the dark. I hugged his pillow and listened to Jenna and mother cry.

I got to science class before anyone else and sat in my assigned seat at one of the back tables. Outside, students were still changing classes laughing and yelling. Raquel Vasquez walked in. Dark skin, long black hair, tight white t-shirt and jeans. She looked at me and smiled and went to her seat in front, one row over. I could see her bra under the tight shirt across her back. She got out our science book and started to read.

More kids came in and sat down. Chris, the boy that sat next to me, came in smelling like cigarettes. He started drawing on the table. I got out the science book to read, but he nudged me and leaned over, half-whispering. —Damn, Raquel’s got some big ole titties, don’t she?

I automatically looked up at her. She turned around. I knew she’d heard him, but she looked at me, her face getting red and her eyes watering. She turned back around and slouched over her book. I looked at Chris, who shrugged and kept drawing on the table.

Mr. Messer, our science teacher, came in and slammed the door. He was tall, and big. And ex-marine. —Open your books!

If we hadn’t before, we did then. He told us to read chapter nine and do the questions at the end, then talked about the National Geographic special he saw the night before. I looked at Raquel, but she never looked back, just kept slouching and looking down at her book. Chris nudged him and pointed to what he had drawn on the table: A girl with big breasts and black hair licking her lips.

I glared at him. —Don’t.

—Don’t what?

—Just stop.

Mr. Messer had still been talking. —...and what scientists are now learning is that sharks actually prefer fresh water. Hey, is there a problem back there?

He pointed at me. —Out. Out the door.

Now Raquel was looking at me. Everyone was looking at me. —But—

—Out.

I stood up. Chris looked down at his book, which was covering the drawing. I closed the door behind me and stood in the hall, looking out the hall window at the bike rack. The door opened and Mr. Messer came out, slamming it behind. —What’s your problem, punk?!

He pushed me on the chest. —You got a problem?!

I barely kept my balance. —No.

—Gabbing with your friend?!

—No.

He stepped forward and pushed me again. —No?!

—I didn’t do anything!

—You gonna blame your buddy? Snitch?

I didn’t say anything.

—You’re not tough. I could take you. Think I couldn’t? I was in the marines. I’ve seen punks like you.

He pushed me again. —Are you sorry? Say you’re sorry and you won’t go to the principal’s office.

—I didn’t do anything!

Mr. Messer pointed down the hall. —That’s it. Go.

—But—

He slapped me on the face lightly. —Come on, punk.

I backed up. —Ok, I’ll go!

Mr. Messer went back inside and slammed the door again. I stood there and heard him say something and the class laugh. I turned and walked down the hall, looking in open classroom doors.

I passed one of the janitors, an older black man, who winked and smiled. —Busted huh?

I nodded. —Yeah....

—Don’t let him get you down son.

—Who?

—The Man, son, the Man.

—Who’s the Man?

He exaggerated looking around. —He’s everywhere!

—But, you’re a man.

He nodded slowly, pointing at me. —That’s right son. And you will be too.

I stared at him, unsure what to do, or say. He laughed and patted my shoulder. —Alright son, I’ll be seeing you around.

I walked into the office. The secretary looked at me over her thick glasses, frowning. —Yes?

—I got sent down here.

—By who?

—Mr. Messer.

She sighed. —Oh jeezuz. Alright, have a seat.

I sat in a plastic chair by the door and waited. A girl came in crying. The secretary looked at her. —Yes?

—I have to call my mom. I want to go home.

—What’s wrong honey?

The girl looked around at Danny, then whispered something.

—What?

—I’m bleeding!

—Oh honey, sorry. Come here in the other room.

The secretary looked at me. Angry.

I sat and waited to long the girl’s mother came and took her away. Finally the principal, Mrs. Singleton, came out, smiling. —Ok, what’s your name?

—Danny Singer.

—Ok Danny, come in.

I followed her in and sat in a chair. She sighed. —Mr. Messer sent you?

I nodded. —Yes.

—What did you do?

I looked down at his feet. —Nothing.

—What did he say you did?

—Talking I guess.

—Did he do anything?

—....

—Danny?

—He sent me out in the hall.

—Anything else?

—...No....

She sighed again. —Ok, well, just wait outside until the bell rings, ok?

I nodded. —Ok.

I got up. —Mrs. Singelton?

—Yes Danny?

—How do you tell a girl she’s beautiful in spanish?

She smiled. —Hermosa. Eres hermosa.

—Eres hermosa. Thank you.

—De nada. Buena suerte con la muchacha.

I went out and sat until the bell, then went to gym class.