After a while, I started to think she might fall for me. I thought she might leave her husband and come live with me in my small one-bedroom along the river. We’d find our own space eventually, maybe get a dog. It would be hard at first—I’d have to adjust to her working all the time, but we’d make it through.
(fiction)
Nobody likes it when you scream in the street, when you turn over trash bins but can barely remember your own name.
(fiction)
The bid-whist-playing, gin-drinking, chit’lin-cooking, barbecuing, party-loving Pattersons. That was Mama’s family–loud, boisterous and slightly disreputable. Miss Jonita declared them “country,” though the Pattersons had been established in Chicago a good half-century before Miss Jonita’s people came Up North, or as Black folks ironically deemed it, “Up South” from Arkansas.
I glare at the construction crews. I search for where they’ve hidden the dynamite. They don’t know that I’m in the warehouse. I keep myself hidden. I’d like to sneak in and light it off, watch the fireworks. I imagine Rowan watching, too, knowing that it’s me.
(fiction)
“Pynchon is like the lost minutes on the Nixon tapes,” Steele says. “The not being there just adds to the mystery. The fact he even came today ruins it. Like if the Red Sox won the World Series. The myth is dead. The real Pynchon would’ve never showed. I think it was a dumb move, actually.”
(fiction)
“I help my clients open their chakras, channel their sensual energy, and find their heart space.”
“Heart space?” I ask.
“Yeah…like, you know,” she says, placing her hand just above my left breast. “Many of my clients have trouble with love.”
I stare at her.
(fiction)
The day before the world was supposed to end, Kasumi woke up in the morning and slipped into her school uniform as usual.
(fiction)
Ruth couldn’t quite forget that her husband, David, had slept with Diana before he slept…
“Free Solo Climbing”
“A Beautiful Fiasco”
(fiction)
In 2010 life changed in Bear’s Corner. Outsiders know the place as Komi. That was the year the bears came to eat us.
(fiction)
Religious, you say? What’s religious? And when there are so many shades, so many tones and semi-tones of religious, who really qualifies as merely religious and who, as a nut job?
(fiction)
I made no friends in Granada, which seemed natural enough to me. I read though. Oddly enough it was then I became fascinated by the American Civil War.
(fiction)
it was not a big room, i don’t think i mentioned that, though it had a great view. my hashish angel sat on the rug near the sliding glass door, smile beatific.
(fiction)
There’s never anyone there to scold me, to watch over me, no one to demand, hands on hips, “Where were you, young lady?”
(fiction)
I realized I’d made a big mistake. I hadn’t advanced with her as much as I thought I had.
(fiction)
Hell, he probably looked like Michael, himself, who had taken plenty of girls home from plenty of parties, too – horny, hopeful; no shame for him in that – but had backed off if they said no, and just said goodnight.
(fiction)
These days they want to text, mostly. It is more discreet. They text me from their couches, their kids’ soccer games, their beds next to their sleeping wives. I will fuck you so hard.
(fiction)
I would tell Renee all of it, the details held in my stomach, fluttering up my throat as my mother and I got in the car and started the familiar drive to Skateland Roller Rink.
(fiction)
Sitting behind the crescent page desk facing the reading room, Clara slipped her hand between…
We don’t get along because we’re always fighting for a spot near the air pump.
The first time Isabel saw Camila’s ghost, she was standing at her beside next to the IV drip. Her face was still eighteen and fresh.
“The Frog and the Bird” and “The Woman, the Letter, the Mirror, and the Door”
I had cut my hand off on the bandsaw. It was sitting there on the…
Uday’s Palace Had its own discotheque with a mirror ball, a flashing dance floor whose…
My dad, Zeus, is away fucking farm animals. Again. He thinks they are princesses. He…
I woke up and didn’t love my husband. Or at least felt like I didn’t…
Sometimes it pays to miss a flight. Watching the plane take off from his seat…
Another Chicago Magazine 