Catherine House

by Elisabeth Thomas

09041996.

The only girl from Lubbock admitted in years.”

Far above Molina’s walls, the Ashley tower loomed, battlemented and black as a rook. Six black birds flew past it toward the sun.

my lips swollen and bitten-up raw. My hair slunk over my shoulders in slutty waves

Wut

teacher, probably, with skinny arms, a braying laugh, sandy graying hair tied under a kerchief. The kind of woman who did jigsaw puzzles and watched Jeopardy! and took their chocolate Lab for twilight walks on the beach, and, every morning, sat down with a cup of coffee and wrote M. Owens a letter.

Heyyyyyyyy

Photographs would flatten it all into real, dull detail, and Catherine didn’t want detail. Catherine wanted glamour.

But in my family, Yale was so hated. The institution had treated my dad and grandfather so poorly they tried to get me not to go. But teenagers do whatever they want, so I did end up going there.