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In the night a certain kind of whisper sounds louder than yelling.
But he’s a sea cowboy, which is even cooler.
People around here don’t seem to talk much but they like to do small kindnesses.
It’s the kind of laughter that only comes to kids, I think. Grownups are too used to the absurdity of the world.
yards of net festoon the pontoons.
‘I told them the truth,’ Betty says. ‘Where to look – behind the skirting board in the living room. Now let me go or I’ll hook your eyes out of your skull.’ Harper breathes fast, her face mottled red. She releases Betty’s finger. ‘Nat told me you were a snoop,’ she says. ‘He told me you saw his dad hiding that stuff. Don’t lie about it. You know it wasn’t Nat’s.’ Betty looks at her. ‘Yeah,’ she says slowly. ‘That’s why he chose you. You still believe his lies. I can’t anymore. You take care now.’ Betty goes, holding her sore finger gently. ‘She’s the liar,’ Harper says. Her eyes follow Betty
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‘We agreed we wouldn’t tell him,’ my father says. ‘Not right now. He’s been through so much.’ My mother has made herself as small as possible in the big armchair by the window. ‘I won’t lie for you anymore,’ she says.
Two people speaking but within the same paragraph…?
The hallways are so loud, full of yelling and people dragging suitcases and carrying pot plants.
I’m supposed to have them with food, but I take my anti-anxiety pill anyway.
I find my pill case in my jeans pocket and take my afternoon medication early. After a moment’s thought I take another one.
That’s a thing I miss – textures. There’s not too many here – metal and cement, plastic – oh, and slop. That’s the food. Nothing from the natural world. Wood, water, sand. I took it all for granted, all that time, touching those things. I never knew how much I’d miss it.
The sunlight pours over us, it seems to come from everywhere and I think, so here it is at last and I – but I don’t finish the thought. Love.
I’ve never been in the principal’s office before.
The dean??
‘You’re an odd fellow,’ Mr Montague says, thoughtful. ‘Are you odd on the inside, too? Did you lead my son astray, I wonder?’
He sends back a brief note. Come next weak. I moov end of Jun. It brings back memories almost painful in their intensity. Not great letter writers, either of the Pelletiers.
‘Nice to see you again,’ the cab driver says, which adds to the unreality of it all. He’s no more than twenty, must be mistaking me for someone else. I see a soap playing on a little screen set into the dash. Was he talking to the TV? This must be a lonely job.
Being who you are can be lonely. This evening is cool. The little
Dinner is macaroni and cheese, very delicious, though there is a little purple fire burning in the middle of the plate.
As I get older I see more and more how fluid a thing time is. There are so many ways to slip in and out of it. The wonder is that we ever stick in the now.
Anyway that’s often what writing is, isn’t it? What you leave out.
It was just my mind, making pictures on the dark.
Did I really expect that there would be no consequences, when I decided to open the coffin of the past and poke at its corpse? Ooh. Good line.
I can go without food and sleep, I can live without love if I must, but I cannot carry on without coffee.
