After work, she picks up her daughter from the daycare. There’s never a dinner plan. If one comes together, it’s usually closer to nine. It’s never a good idea to grocery shop when hungry; too expensive. So the mother and daughter always beeline for the deli counter upon entering. The order rarely varies: thinly shaved roasted turkey and some slices of muenster cheese. They snack through the store on these provisions. This always elicits double-takes from other shoppers, as if the two are solely there to graze for free. When they make it to the checkout counter with almost empty baggies, clerks always smile, knowing the cost marked on the deli baggies is more than the weightless ones handed over. The … Read More
The Russians
The four of them are in a dark room. The only light streams in through a large window from the streetlights outside. One of the four, a seventeen-year-old girl, stands on a chair placed in the middle of the room wearing only a large sarong wrapped around her body with her hair in a bun. She sings a cappella to her tiny audience of three, two Russian guys from Moscow and a Russian girl by way of Vancouver, Canada. They have all found themselves in this dorm hall, in Prague, during the summer school session. The singing American girl and the Canadian met in the train station in Munich, and decided to travel to Prague together. When they stepped out … Read More
Sleepovers II
Paris, 1998 By the time they left the club, the metros had shut down for the evening and a soft rain had begun to fall. The decided to hop into a taxi passing down Rue de Rivoli. He had been watching her dance inside La Scala with a group of her friends for quite some time. It wasn’t until she elevated herself onto a tall stage block to dance that she noticed him seated in a booth along the perimeter, though. They maintained eye contact until she finally came down. They went straight for one another. There were coy introductions and the false modesty. The minor language barrier didn’t deter them. They alternated between being on the dance floor and kissing in … Read More
Starched and Proper
There is the hiss of the steam and the smell of fresh laundry; the mist of the starch before it stiffens. Her movements are methodical. She lifts and turns the shirt just so, pressing the point of the iron into any nooks and crannies. She smokes a cigarette while she irons. The glass ashtray sits on the edge of the board. Her cigarette spends more time dangling from one corner of her mouth than being smoked. She only waves it over the ashtray seconds before the accumulated weight of ashes fall. Her husband sits in his black slacks and white wife beater at the Formica kitchen table. He is waiting, reading the newspaper too close to his face. ~When I am given this … Read More
California Cool
The airport is small and local. She exits into a sunny side of life, inhaling smells of lilac and lemon trees. The clean pavement reflects gold rays back to her as she makes her way to one of the few waiting taxis. There would only be a few. It’s about a twenty-minute drive to the house, and after exiting the freeway, the neighborhoods lining the coast all seem private, secluded. The houses are individually wrapped by bundles of trees and beds of flowers. Something ideal. The driver turns off one of the winding roads onto a small gravel patch. The crunch under the tires announcing her arrival. A gathering of trees line either side of an iron gate. She gets out … Read More