Difficult Women

by Roxane Gay

Every night, I went online and checked my account balances and thought, This is what my life was worth.

There is this life and that life. We pretend that life never happened. It is a mercy.

Such clarity is uncomfortable.

We live in a large home that is beautiful and empty. We never talk about the emptiness or our failed attempts to fill the void. It is a sorrow we share but do not share.

Instead of speaking, I remained silent. Words cannot fill the faithless with faith.

My mother holds on to grudges. To this day she can recount every wrong. She once told me to never forget anything. She said there’s no such thing as forgiveness.

My mother rushed me to the hospital and stood guard over me. I started to understand how much she loved me and I was terrified to know I mattered that much.