I often looked forward to being sick as a little girl. There was a delicacy to be had only when I was sick. It was a hardboiled egg. My mom would put her palm on my forehead and announce, “Sweet Daughter, you have a fever. I’ll boil an egg for you.” I touched my forehead, … Read more
The basket weave butter cream frosting was exactly what Amanda had asked for, as were the piles of roses and butterflies that made the cake look more like a floral arrangement than something edible. But the color was all wrong. “Excuse me, are you sure this my cake? This cake is pink. Mine is supposed … Read more
1. Our mother calls me to come and look at her. That is how we begin. “Say something,” she says. She tries to sound petulant, but her image in the full-length mirror makes her smile. “A sheath,” I offer, cross-legged on the floor. I hold a pillow on my lap despite the heat. Our mother … Read more
We were seventeen when I paid for my best friend’s abortion, helped answer the doctor’s questions, drove her to my house, lay by her side while she slept. A coworker had her tubes tied after her second C-section, said her husband always wanted girls. The janitor no longer says my name, only: So, are … Read more
