On the fifth. my landlord started calling On the seventh, my cell phone stopped receiving mils because the phone company cut me off. I stopped on the freeway, put the expensive Sanuung in front of my tires, and smashed it to bits by driving over it. Destroying the phone let me spend more time... Show moreOn the fifth. my landlord started calling On the seventh, my cell phone stopped receiving mils because the phone company cut me off. I stopped on the freeway, put the expensive Sanuung in front of my tires, and smashed it to bits by driving over it. Destroying the phone let me spend more time listening. It was just me and Ben's spirit now. He sat on the hood at sixty-five miles an hour, looking like a dashboard Buddha, only transparent and skinny. “Hey. Ben." “Yuh. Sam.” "Wouldn't it be a neat trick, if I started a church around this. Self-Discovery by Dropping Out." There was some skinny white chick on the radio singing “Dude. you really need to see someone about this. You can’t run from everybody forever." Ben took a celestial bong hit. I drove the 1-80 rolling joints from a bag of grass I bought from a farmer in Illinois, and it was a different experience. Flat, smooth and endless became meditative, rather than boring. low: was far behind, and Nebraska was a memory. “Yeah?” I said, “watch me." Ben shrugged. “Your funeral. Sam. Do you really want Mom to have to bury two sons in eight weeks?" I laughed, ran my fingers through now—shaggy red hair. “Nor really. But I can't go back yet, y'knnw? l’ve been in hock to the man for too long. Let me get to Cali before I stop to call people.” Ben laughed. "ln hock to the man? Sam, really. Obligations don't go away. You're 30 and you still think that ifyou find the magic money fairy, you'll be out ofanything you agreed to." I looked at Ben funny, but I didn't say anything. Reno was 200 miles ahead and my fuel gauge was waning, mile over mile. I didn‘t want to admit it but he was right. l'd spent most of my life running away. From school. from work. even from places I wanted to be. I could have been half—decent at soccer ifl'd just tried. But instead I was too busy being funny. Even this road trip. in a sense. was an attempt to get out of being there for the test of the Family. I didn't really have a choice in the matter now. my phone was a shattered wreck of silicon and glass two states ago. I doubted there was a pay phone left in California or Nevada. Besides, 6 there was a certain appml to just seeing this thing through. I'd never done that before. Not for anything. “I want to get through this, Ben. I’ll go back later and face the music, I promise. But just see this through with me." He was my lifeline to a world ofsanity, my brother who was this thing that I‘d have laughed at on TV a month ago. Ghosts to me had been the legacy of too many bad movies and scary stories when l was a kid. I didn’t really believe in them, but I liked to say I did, just to get a rise out of my cousins‘ little kidlets. “l don't know ifi can, dude,” said Ben. “Light taking you, that kind ofshit?" I asked. Ben raised an eyebrow. “l don‘t know, I just know that every day my connections get thinner. I said good-bye to Jenna a week ago, and whatever's left of me... Sam, promise me we'll see the Pacific before I cross over to... whatever." lt surprised me to see Ben in the first place. but even more so to see him talking about the afterlife. That was the strangest thing. It was like my brother, but a weird side version ofhim that made like an old Journey song and didn't stop believing. “Where's whatever, Ben?" “I dunno. l just know l'm going somewhere else, soon. and I won't see you guys anymore..." I put the pedal to the floor. lfmy brother was going to disappear, I didn’t want it to be in the middle of Nevada. Hundreds ofmilcs of empty highway blurred by, and Ben started to look like he was fading. “Hey. man.” said Ben. "There's a cop about twenty miles ahead. Slow down, drive natural.“ “How'd you know that?“ Ben shrugged his translucent shoulders. He didn't know and I couldn't get him to tell me. I decided to stop bugging him, it wasn't worth the stress. It was like that for the test ofthe trip. Every so often my brother—who shouldn't have even been in II): mr next to rmL would space out, then tell me that he saw something ahead that I should know about. Sometimes it was like having a celestial fuzzbuster in my passenger seat. There was that time he stopped me in time to not run over a at — the cat had no owner's tags Show less
HUGH JACKMAN’S BEARD Lesley Becker I checked my bag before I lth: Shocs. yoga pants. sports bra, razor, Everything I nccdcd for thc gym. 'lhc gym was warm: Ycllows and golds and sweaty bodics and Multiple TVs playing multiple channcls. 'lhc lockcr room is the oppositc: Cold, stcrilc, white. and... Show moreHUGH JACKMAN’S BEARD Lesley Becker I checked my bag before I lth: Shocs. yoga pants. sports bra, razor, Everything I nccdcd for thc gym. 'lhc gym was warm: Ycllows and golds and sweaty bodics and Multiple TVs playing multiple channcls. 'lhc lockcr room is the oppositc: Cold, stcrilc, white. and gray Simply a placc to gct dressed and changcd. I brought my bag out with mt: Asl picked a trcadmill to work on llccausc pcoplc haw: hccn watching me l’coplc who want to stcal my bag: 'lhat is what Illl.\ gym is filled with. Liars. stcalcrs. and evil pcoplc work out here. But than I saw him. With a bright white light surrounding him: Hugh Jackman. My heart Icapt into my chcst And my lungs fell into my stomach Until I saw his ugly heard. Normally brought only for protcction From thmc liars and thicvcs. I took my razor and went to Hugh Jackman. l was going to get rid ofthat heard. l lbllnwul him slowly. 8 Show less
FISHING: A CALENDAR Lia Jacobson IT was June when you hit me and July when l forgave you. In the nights. i slept before you came home, and in the mornings. i woke before you. slipping away to anonymous public benches with wrought iron annresrs. My hands shook. l bit down on my cigarettes. and I... Show moreFISHING: A CALENDAR Lia Jacobson IT was June when you hit me and July when l forgave you. In the nights. i slept before you came home, and in the mornings. i woke before you. slipping away to anonymous public benches with wrought iron annresrs. My hands shook. l bit down on my cigarettes. and I felt your hook in my liver. in August we visited the sea. its unacquainted. pleasant relatives in awe ofits hospitality. We housed our feet in the sand until they touched at the sides through crumbling masks. By the limbs you pulled me up. gently, through the space between us. in September we shyly held hands in front ofstrangers. We walked past markets in the streets and through parks and neighborhoods occupied by white-haired couples and gardens of marigolds; brown leaves like bats' wings were plastered to the wet sidewalk beneath our feet. and i made silent apologies for each of my steps. In October we fought. we screamed. seethed and withered in different rooms. Our resentment bathed. saturated in silence and soiled dishwater with wincglasses. bourbon—kissed coffee mugs. and wet morsels ofsesame cold noodle. I cried quietly and ran the faucet in the bathroom sink; you broke things outside. you came home late and said no words to me. in November you poured your beer on me when i told your friends to leave. and they laughed with their chopped-up hair and boy voices. their stinking shirts and jeans. From upstairs I heard the wind blow past the door before you slammed it behind you. I closed my eyes as the birds began to call for the sun. and the sound ofdripping echoed from the shower. in December you came home. laughing or sobbing. yelling the name l wished wasn't tnine. l pounded the stairs with bare heels and tore at the edges of my hathrohe. and you turned to me. red-eyed. incredulous. My shoulders bent and gave as you shook them like a broken vending machine: you spat 2 splinters of smoke and alcohol and choked on incogniuble impret'ations. Your hands felt for my throat: skating. fleshy water spiders. and constricted around my trachea. i looked into you as l looked up at you. through the water in my eyes. l would die. and i would drown like a fish drowns. sputtering with the air around me. Vessels in my eyes exploded and i saw galaxies tilt and combust into fantastic oceans ofmagma. Yet. l know our gazes held each other. and when you pulled your hook. you saw my eyes empty: and you threw me back in. Show less
a damned shame and 4 Acre for the amt/er, I ‘01 sure. One luau/d thin? z‘haz‘ I‘m/WC moa/dn‘t 5e So éad on Diana/i, Sines most emf/oyees have the day off. 771ey 5hoa/c/ (5: with their from/5, Jr/nhinj Kr'njh‘sher (/2 and Singing a/onj with 5/Grin5 Y/I'nd/ macs/C. 8412‘, with Money to 62 made and... Show morea damned shame and 4 Acre for the amt/er, I ‘01 sure. One luau/d thin? z‘haz‘ I‘m/WC moa/dn‘t 5e So éad on Diana/i, Sines most emf/oyees have the day off. 771ey 5hoa/c/ (5: with their from/5, Jr/nhinj Kr'njh‘sher (/2 and Singing a/onj with 5/Grin5 Y/I'nd/ macs/C. 8412‘, with Money to 62 made and a war/d to inherit, Incl/ans see/r1 (Susy no maz‘z‘er z‘he occasion. 45 the taxi screeches i0 a ha/Z‘ az‘ a 510;; fight, the ctr/Var ye/h'nj ouz‘ Z‘he (window In rgp/d sahhdastanl as if his [nag/2‘5 w/// magicafly mahe the forty cars in front of hr'm a/i'sgpyear, the grungy French hippie I am Sharing the taxi with says in /7£(2Vl/y {(CCcnz‘ed fish‘s/7, .2115 1'5 crazy, 15 [2‘ 1702‘.? I /oVe Incl/a!“ >‘//5 wore/5 Coma out fife has discovered a care for cander. 777s soar—sme/hnj french/vans oVereXC/{ement‘ can on/y Mean he 1'5 getting the awz‘hent/C, z‘hv'rd (oar/cl adventure he hoped for hath In Par/5 ennayeax Laugh/r75 with the h/fple in the éachseaz‘, I Sml/e at him and 500’ my head from 5tde z‘o Side in ajreemenf the way India/:5 do as the fight turns green and we a/mo5t ran clown three or four More Motoréihets. On the modest (to use a rather weak adjectiyei balcony outside my cheap room. I light an- other Sui , hoping that the acrid smoke and nicotine will stimulate my brain and vanquish my misgivings and my writers block. "\Yish they had hash in them like the driyers cigarettes. maybe then I could write a de- cent narrative," I y to myself. \‘exed. "Should haye asked Francesca for some others." Licking my lips, I hold the cigarette butt on my mouth and examine the meager notes in my journal. grasping it with both hands. Is it fair to make assumptions about a f1\'e thousand year old civilization from a half hour cab ride? \\'ill I be like Conrad describing dark limbs flailing in the jungle? Am I somehow a colonial force, an agent ol'cold \\'estern rationaliza- tion and capitalism? Am I a fucking int/)m'a/n/ with Iny thoughts scrawled in black ink? A firecracker burstsjust feet from my balcony and I drop my notebook in alarm. Some ofthc screaming children from the alley somehow made their way onto an adjacent balcony and fired the colorful flares in my direction. obyiously taking no heed to my presence. Laughing. they disappear into the foggy night. Dissatisfied with the words appearing on paper. I take a moment to think. I‘m missing something. It‘s not fantastic enough, not romantic enough. \\'ith India. readers will expect something out 0fthis world. somcthing Inehl/1/ptnml. Somewhere there must be a scene that could proyide me my masterpiece. Finding no epiphany inducing metaphors in the works on the balcony, in dismay, I decide to go out into the world outside my room to try and lind some dinner. I need some inspiration. and food will make me think. How could I capture any sort ofauthenticity alone in a dingy hotel room. anyway,J I have to experiencc the real India out that door. Though the cab ride proved enough for my I’rench hippie friend an hour ago to proclaim his love for this place. I decide in that moment that I need more substance than a dozen or so near fatal car accidents. Maybe I‘ll haye an epiphany over a plate of roti, rice and dahl. Maybe I‘ll even get to eat with my hands! \Vith a few mouthfuls of food. I‘ll know what this place is all about. I‘ll be able to catch Delhi with a few pages of deft prose. Really, ile impossible to write good prose on an empty stomach. So, in control of my destiny, I grab my key, my journal. a ballpoint pen and a couple ofhundred Rupee notes. which I stuffin my front pocket. slick another Surya in my lips and head out the door. I fight my way through the crowd in the narrow alleyway. Though I normally would have been mobbed by vendors selling eycrything from beetle nut to bootlegjed Stephen Spielberg films, Diwalis celebrations block my potential pocket book from \’I(‘\\. I go mostly unnoticed through the alley. After halfan hour oflooking for a restaurant that will have me. since 67 Murphy Square Show less
A SUNSET FROM THE DOCK William Trembly The red sun Sparkles at the crest ol‘eat‘h wrinkle in the lake A cedar (loek Faded gray and coarse against the $011 skin under my knees Cool water Licks at the bark ol‘my ankles and danres helm-en my toes Tender air “'hispers through my hair. (aresses my... Show moreA SUNSET FROM THE DOCK William Trembly The red sun Sparkles at the crest ol‘eat‘h wrinkle in the lake A cedar (loek Faded gray and coarse against the $011 skin under my knees Cool water Licks at the bark ol‘my ankles and danres helm-en my toes Tender air “'hispers through my hair. (aresses my fate An aluminum canoe ApproaeheS. gliding through the water Slender wooden paddles Rhythmieally slipping into darkness and pulling out Splash Splash Splash Ageless trees Afl't ,s the water. silhouettes against the reddening skyline A silyer fish Surfaces. a splash and ripples olealei‘ extend in inlinile rings ’l‘he buried sun Hidden. linally gone to rest beyond the horizon A motorboat Rumbles in the night sky. an unseen (listurhant‘e The aluminum canoe Departed. nearly out olisight. a Mark speek on the blue “atei‘ Those slender wooden paddles Unheard in the distanuz Seen. Still they push through the mater and pull out again Splash Splash Splash 61 Murphy Square Show less
HERE’S HOW IT HAPPENED: Eric Moen Honk hm“ it liappcnt‘d: “'0 got so tir(‘(li \\'(- gut so tin-(l that WP (nultln‘t krt'p Ulll’ eyes npvn, (Inuldnt k(‘('[) our vym npc’n to M‘L‘ at'nm [lll‘ kitrhvn laban '11: wt" acrxm thv kitrhr-n Illl)l(‘. the nnv \u‘ lm'r w much, 'l‘ht' UIH‘ \u- l()\'l‘ m muth... Show moreHERE’S HOW IT HAPPENED: Eric Moen Honk hm“ it liappcnt‘d: “'0 got so tir(‘(li \\'(- gut so tin-(l that WP (nultln‘t krt'p Ulll’ eyes npvn, (Inuldnt k(‘('[) our vym npc’n to M‘L‘ at'nm [lll‘ kitrhvn laban '11: wt" acrxm thv kitrhr-n Illl)l(‘. the nnv \u‘ lm'r w much, 'l‘ht' UIH‘ \u- l()\'l‘ m muth and Inai‘rinl wwn )(‘QII‘S ago. Marriml wn‘n yrars ago. lill(‘(l \\ ith hupt‘s and (lrramx: l“ill<'(l will) l1()])(‘S and dreams. not imagininglr lht- possibility nl‘l‘ailurc. Imaginngr tht' possibility nlilailurc m‘ li-ll silvnt. “1‘ lb“ silt‘nt to avoid the L’un\'ui’.~aliun. To avnitl tln- rum'rrxation \w‘w had \‘u many times. \\'L-‘\‘t- liad .xn many times tngcther. sm-pt llu‘ bad timrs umlt'r the rug, Swept the bad times unle the rug until a mountain sat bent-ml] our home. A mountain sat lu-ncath our home and each morning “'0 would (‘liIIllJ ill Each morning.r we would climb it, but thrn m- got [no tirctl, 'l‘ht'n \vv got too tin‘d, That‘s hms’ i1 happcned. 58 Murphy Square Show less
A WORO FROM ANOTHER WORLD Coline Irvine A “lord Already A word floated Like a haunted \heet From her \\ ide room Big enough for hunk-beds Aeross the dark. hard-wood hall And deep into our dreamst Or did it fly Bat-like Blind but deliberate An arrow ripping into ripe melon.J \Ye stopped breathing... Show moreA WORO FROM ANOTHER WORLD Coline Irvine A “lord Already A word floated Like a haunted \heet From her \\ ide room Big enough for hunk-beds Aeross the dark. hard-wood hall And deep into our dreamst Or did it fly Bat-like Blind but deliberate An arrow ripping into ripe melon.J \Ye stopped breathing And surlaeed from sleep To listen Remember,J \\'hen she was {our And we were young But done. already Old. Remember.J The word. her word Pushed its way into your Mind and mine But not ours Not then In your business boardroom. maybe. Or your luncheon olisuits and boots And heels and handshakes Our girl Bare legs. pink shirt. soft hands Appears At the edge ol‘my return Into the woods I lean into my shoulder straps Plant the first slt‘l) and Before I heeolne youngr again Our girl lx there. \‘leepy >mil» in};r up at me .\ mirage l Show less
I chuckle with him, but the wound has been opened. My pride reels in that plastic chair. After I finish my momos. I get up to pay. thinking I‘d try and find my authentic India somewhere else. As I walk to the register, a diflereiit Tibetan gets tip from the card game to meet me. “Sixty Rupees,“ he... Show moreI chuckle with him, but the wound has been opened. My pride reels in that plastic chair. After I finish my momos. I get up to pay. thinking I‘d try and find my authentic India somewhere else. As I walk to the register, a diflereiit Tibetan gets tip from the card game to meet me. “Sixty Rupees,“ he says. leaning on the counter beside the register. I give him a hundred note. praying that he won't have exact change and he‘ll have to break up the poker game to get forty rupees. or at least give me two crumpled. torn. unusable twenty Rupee notes, "You American?" he asks. swiftly handing me two crisp twenties. “Yeah.” I had tried to look as un-Anierican as I could, taking an unnecessarily longtime to eat my momos (though I had to wait live more minutes for them to cooli. not ordering a Coke. and not asking the Tibetans ifthey could serenely meditate for me while I snapped pictures on a disposable camera. “How could you tell?" “Your accent." said the Tibetan. "and the fact that Americans have to eat their food cold. You know. my brother is American. He lives in \Iirginia. Can‘t stand that Barack Obama. Taxes and all. He voted for Mccain and Palin. That Paliii chick is actualh kind of hot. don‘t you think?" I stand stunned. blindsided by American politics in my dashed dreamland. “I‘m more ofa Michelle Obama guy. Shes got a great body." I say in numbed words. much less enthusiastic than I would have been had I said it to a frat-boy blame it on being out of my element. \Valking through narrow alleyways and the chaotic Diwali celebratit'iiis back to my hotel isn’t nearly as surreal and incredible as it was when I first got out olithe taxi. starry —eye(l and full of muse. I even let one my crisp twenties peak out of my back pocket in hopes of getting pick-pocketed. A fast pursuit ofa thiefthrough dark doorways and seedy staircases could make for a memorable anecdote. But alas. I have all my rupees as I stroll into the hotel lobby. In my bleak room, I stare at my composition notebook again. hoping something evoca- tive and profound will appear. Thouin before dinner I was despoiident. at lt‘iht I had been romantic. Now. throwing my notes to the Hour. I‘m simply cynical. Here I am in Delhi on Diwali and it‘s been a perfectly normal evening except for the constant explosions and the fact that I smoked too many cigarettes. 'India is yer/Iqu the most human cf a// p/aca5 on (his cart/1.“ As a last resort. a final gasp for inspiration. my veritable ninth life of \\ riling my Mystical Indian Story. I root around in my backpack and find my unread copy UliRllClythl Kipling‘s him. which I‘d bought at the Delhi airport in hopes of seeking an India-writer to mentor me with story. There. on the very first page ofthe introduction. my eyes fall on a passage as if the words had reached out and grabbed my power ofsiglit: “\Vhich one ofall the thousand conflicting tongues. races. nationalities and peoples between Kliaibar Pass and Ceylon do you mean? There is no such thing as the Iii‘tliH's of India..." Overcome with my unmet expectations a place bereft ofwliining sitai‘s. popping tdl)lii\ and laughing, bearded gurus the loss ofl\Iy India *I decide not to write the Great liidian Account after all. \Yliat kind of reader could possibly enjoy something so completely Int/{Hair} 69 Murphy Square Show less
INTRODUCTION For all ()l‘our sellfin‘eseribed visions of what an education at .‘tug‘sburgr really means for students. there has been nothingr more apparent to me than the hut that we are storytellers, And why not? Especially as fledgling artists and thinkers. we become products ol‘our environments... Show moreINTRODUCTION For all ()l‘our sellfin‘eseribed visions of what an education at .‘tug‘sburgr really means for students. there has been nothingr more apparent to me than the hut that we are storytellers, And why not? Especially as fledgling artists and thinkers. we become products ol‘our environments and what better environment to inhabit. to observe and soak in with eager minds than the color- ful array that is Cedar-Riverside? This neighborhood in which Augsburg has been so neatly plopped is an opportunity to make art. I know that for me. Minneapolis has been what Paris was for Hemmingway: a physical space to be amazed at. to become inlatuated with to the point where you have to (in something about it. Call me a hopeless sentimental il‘ you wish. but this itch to make art. this virttte ol‘representing our space with pen, paintbrush. chisel or creative suite. this is what we live for. This year‘s rump/gr Square is a tribute to our education and the spaces we inhabit as we learn. to our community to Augsburg and the world around it. \\'hate\'er that means to you personally. whether it‘s relishing a kraut-laden l)rat\vur.st from the greasy kitchen olthe \Vienery on Cedar. biking along the crowded lanes olithe Greenuay I‘ull olismiling. helmet- donned riders. or lying in the cool grass ol‘Murphy Park with a paperback novel and a cigarette. ll‘your education means walking down the sunny streets oli\\'indhoek Vtiliiil)ia. practicing your Spanish in a noisy. colorful market in Nicaragua. or snappng pictures of street performers in Prague. 1 hope you can find eyocation in this little book yoti hold in your hands. Ourjournal is for everyone to enjoy. The artists and \\ riters who contributed to this year‘s Murphy Square are incredibly diverse. There are fiction write poets. spoken word poets. sketchers. photographers. digital artists and painters. \\'e are a wild and different hunch hut III)III’ ol‘us. I'm sure. is capable ol‘ ever stopping. \Ve are zealous and unrelenting in our lust for representng whatever lalls into our gaze or into our hands, So we will never stop. and this book is the product oliour endless toiling. 'l‘ake it in your hands. Feel the texture ol‘its paper and flip through the pages as you wish. Read the poems. the stories; trace each sentence. (Immune it. Like our community. it inhabits physical space. lts lines and images wait for anyone who decides to pick up a copy and experience the \\ rit- ing and art within the leaves. patient. but eager and \\ illing, \Velcome. all. to .lIurp/p‘ Square 2011. Ted (lonover Editor in Chief 5 Murphy Square Show less
SWITCH Jayne Carlson no teeth [0 new teeth 10 old teeth to false teeth. On. siroller l0 strolling to walker Io \\'ht‘(’l(‘hilll‘. On. hairless to hairy to no hair just about anywhere. On. empty mind to spongy mind in Wise mind to leaking mind. On. vulnerable to capable to powerful to feeble. On.... Show moreSWITCH Jayne Carlson no teeth [0 new teeth 10 old teeth to false teeth. On. siroller l0 strolling to walker Io \\'ht‘(’l(‘hilll‘. On. hairless to hairy to no hair just about anywhere. On. empty mind to spongy mind in Wise mind to leaking mind. On. vulnerable to capable to powerful to feeble. On. child 10 adult [0 parent [0 dependent. On. breathing lo breathing to breathing. .. to silence. 011‘. 63 Murphy Square Show less
EINTOU: 1968 SUMMER OLYMPICS Myclml Batson lists up proud warriors on [up (){lhc \mrld [In-y \‘Izmd lu'mk angled Inward lhr ground as il‘m lunk (hm n on all \\h().\11id ncwr Lunk up 22 Murphy Square
heard Frank swatting at them behind her. “I’m sorry," Annabelle finally said. turning around to throw him a quick. strained smile. “what time is the memorial?" "‘Eiglit,“ he answered as their trailer came into view ahead ofthem. “Your mother said she’d come ifwe did and Sarah offered to give the... Show moreheard Frank swatting at them behind her. “I’m sorry," Annabelle finally said. turning around to throw him a quick. strained smile. “what time is the memorial?" "‘Eiglit,“ he answered as their trailer came into view ahead ofthem. “Your mother said she’d come ifwe did and Sarah offered to give the three ofus a ride.“ She nodded as she climbed the steps into their mobile. opening the door and letting it slam shut before Frank eould slip in behind her. He sighed. “How long are you going to punish me for eoming home whenJake didn‘t?" Pulling her T—shirt up over her head. she moved to the other end ofthe trailer and dropped it into the small laundry hamper that she and Frank shared. Rifling through their shared Closet. she pulled ottt a black. shapeless dress and slipped into it before kicking off her kakis. She gathered her hair into a loose ponytail. leaving two strands to frame the sides of her face. “I don‘t want to talk about this. Do yott want hamburgers or hot dogs for dinner)" “I think they‘ll have food at the memorial." ~‘l‘ll make hot dogs. they don‘t take as long to cook. \Yhat do you think about corn?" “Belle. you don‘t need to make anything. They‘ll have food at the memorial." "They never have good food at those kinds ofthing. Somebody always brings easserole and I don't like casserole. Plus. it‘s at eight. \Ylto *ats at eight?" “Fm sure somebody will bring something other than casserole," “Better safe than sorry." she sing— songed. “I‘m going to make two hot dogs and ifyou don‘t want one I’ll eat both." Shaking his head. he moved to zip up her dress. planting a chaste ss on the nape of her neck when he was done. Annabelle ignored the gesture. instead feigning a deep concentra- tion as she opened the refrigerator. He sat on the edge ofthe bed. watching her get ottt a bag of hotdogs and take it outside to their grill» ignoring him as she had nearly every day since she’d agreed to marry him. As the screen door slammed shttt. she let out a breath that she didn‘t realize she‘d been holding and held the bag of hot dogs perhaps a little bit too tight as she gritted her teeth. First came the ehareoal. then the lighter fluid. then the match. She hated lighting fires ever since she‘d found out howJake died. bttt the thought ofspend- ing another minute in the trailer with Frank made her queasy. so here she was. lightiu fire. As the flames lieked the metal grate she felt another small kiek from the baby. a. hated the fire. too, She wondered ifit would be able to tell that Frank wasn‘t its real father. Jake‘s term in Iraq would have been over by now. If his Humvee hadn't driven over that land mine. he‘d be standing in front ofthis grill. heating it up for her. Frank had been home on leave when it happened. and after two months he‘d asked Annabelle to marry him. She said yes. knowing that the baby needed a father. As the grill heated up she tore at the hot dog paekaging‘ with her teeth and grabbed a pair of tongs that hung on the side ofthe grill. She stole a glance at the trailer. where she heard Frank talking quietly to someone on the phone, She winced at the soft hiss that the meat made as she placed it over the coals. She saw the rest of her life strett‘hing ottt before her. all the thinly-veiled disgust and sup- pressed repulsion: saw how it would slowly eat away at their makeshift famin ttntil there was nothing good left between them. She saw all the small fights and annoyames build up into something ugly. something that would eventually tear them apart. She saw it. and she wondered whether the alternative would be worse srrounging for cash on her own. trying to be both a mother and a father: sleep walking through life with exhaustion hovering over her. threatening to destroy everything she‘d worked so hard to create. 15 Murphy Square Show less
I AIN’T YRRR JEMIMA Drew DeGenmzro Bzu‘k in [how (hm “hm Tymnt- 8: Memphis \mukl jump the tracks ridin‘ truim longI the river \\ him tm-(l hind“ [hr hth‘t prttt'tit’c' lhl‘\t’ timm ht‘ u changin' Iht‘ laundry hungitf in IIN‘ wind with t‘ulurs \x'm'ilf (ltm n tht' grout Mivivippi likt' Ihvm lrut‘k... Show moreI AIN’T YRRR JEMIMA Drew DeGenmzro Bzu‘k in [how (hm “hm Tymnt- 8: Memphis \mukl jump the tracks ridin‘ truim longI the river \\ him tm-(l hind“ [hr hth‘t prttt'tit’c' lhl‘\t’ timm ht‘ u changin' Iht‘ laundry hungitf in IIN‘ wind with t‘ulurs \x'm'ilf (ltm n tht' grout Mivivippi likt' Ihvm lrut‘k «top [)(‘ddlt‘l‘H‘ that he \tt‘tthn~ fruit from lht- hztt‘kyzn‘th nf'ht'ngtrx \w htn‘v truwlt-(l thi< road In In‘ I‘I‘t’t‘ tunk it lungr in the night lit by lil'(’ uhtngr (Iltsty [HM ks \x't' huilt uur mutt & blond into [with that \tund lull uhm't‘ Ihl‘ \\Ll”\ ()l‘l'ztm- [imwa 56 Murphy Square Show less
