The School for Good Mothers

by Jessamine Chan

Built like a teenage girl, Gust used to say.

Ew wtf

She told him she should have tried harder. She waited for him to say no, to call her brave.

Gust and Susanna’s apartment is lit for romance and warmed by the oven and smells of cinnamon. They have a wreath of twigs and dried berries on their door, a bowl of gourds on the dining table.

Honestly goals srry

Ten minutes are lost to sipping and eating and chitchat.

I actually want to punch everybody

The social worker said Frida talked back. Frida couldn’t follow directions. Frida kept asking for special treatment. She couldn’t set boundaries.

SEETHING

Their eyes turn moist, the longing of these women enough to power a small town.