Shattered. The acrylic paint is still drying on my fingertips, smeared on my t-shirt and all I can think of is it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. One hour with Jordan is not enough. They’d peeled my crying brother off of me from where we’d been working on our painting in my bedroom. The last th...
Leah shouts, doing her best to sound threatening. We are in my bedroom. Tapestries hang on the walls beside oil paintings framed with ornate gold-leaf. And among them hang my posters and torn off magazine covers. When I was younger it was all boy bands, but now they have been replaced by covers o...
And, his Corolla smells like mildew and stale burritos. He tried to start on me as soon as I got in the car. After five minutes of his questions and my silent answers, he’s gripping the steering wheel, his fingers turned white, but he’s finally shut up. “How did you know I was there? Or, where he...
She’s looking at me and I may be deceiving myself, but I think I see hope in her eyes. Just a flicker between the shock, doubt and fear. But it’s there and as long as there is hope, I’ve still got a chance. We drove back to the farm in silence. She let my hand rest on her knee because I needed ...
I know he’s here to help me, but sometimes I feel like he’s overdoing it. Almost bullying me into how he thinks I should live my life. “What took you so long? I was getting worried.” The annoyance I hear is not translating his words of concern. “What’s going on? Why couldn’t you just tell me over...
“Angela or Anita or something.” Cindy’s off-hand manner irritates me this morning. It’s not even seven a.m. but we’re both the first ones here every day. This may not be my life’s work, but I’m happy to be helping my sister achieve her dream. She has a passion for wine, and since her second hu...