Enough for a Girl

I have 79.1 years promised to me, that’s the life expectancy they gave to girls born in 1996 like I was, which is longer than a mayfly gets, and a lot shorter than the life span of an Arctic whale, but enough for a girl, don’t you think. So many of those 79.1 years areContinue reading “Enough for a Girl”

Where the water wants to take you

She thinks of something she learned when she was very young, growing up on the edge of a wild, open ocean. When you get caught in a rip, you have no choice but to acquiesce, to go where the water wants to take you. The force of the rip will eventually dissipate, but only ifContinue reading “Where the water wants to take you”

The quiet rage of women

Someone organizes a candlelight vigil at the park. News of the intended gathering is shared on social media, and on the night, more than 3,000 people make their way south, down to the fields near the pier. Mostly New Yorkers, but some women come from other cities, from their own dark places, called forth toContinue reading “The quiet rage of women”

Spinning closer every second

Later, at the beach house she and her friends have rented for the weekend, Elliott takes a pillow and blanket and quietly pads out to the balcony. It is 3am and everyone else has passed out, couples curled into each other, or positioned back to back. She is, as usual the only single person here.Continue reading “Spinning closer every second”

When they know who you are

Here’s what happens when they know who you are. It changes. Everything changes. They begin to dig into your life. Because ‘Dead Girl’ needs a bigger story to keep it interesting. The fact of her loss could never be enough. So they pick through my past, sift through my bones, the reporters and editors whoContinue reading “When they know who you are”

The space before

Knees slanting, coming closer. Bodies knowing first. That there is no real distance between them now, only the memory of it, a last holding on to the space they used to occupy. The space before each other. Thinking, one last time, that it might be safer not to touch, not to fall. Foolishly mistaking suspensionContinue reading “The space before”

I am not allowed to forget

Is he dead? I can see now that it’s a boy. He is lying on his back and his shirt is open, exposing a smooth, impassive chest that I see in glimpses between arms, legs, shopping bags, coats. I push through the crowd of people, going sideways against the throng, and then I’m standing rightContinue reading “I am not allowed to forget”