Relationships
My mother parked the truck on my foot three hours after my father told me that he loved me. It was March 1965, I was 20 years old, and that was the first time my …
Like many newly married couples, Cristen and Jeffry Hays wanted to get pregnant soon after their wedding in 1992 but felt it best to wait. They used birth control until Jeffry finished three years of …
I froze, shut my eyes, while the steam rose. How many times had she pecked at me to drive off the beaten path, search for a restaurant, an antique shop, a flea market. “Stop!” she’d say.
They were being murdered by the light. I watched and said nothing. When we began our lunch, the sun was just burnishing the windowsill. It was a hot day and Linda had left the window …
Derek had become quite upset when Frieda drew me aside. ButFrieda had no intention of keeping this information from Derek; she later told him precisely what she had told me. Still, some game was afoot.
Nearly an hour went by before I made an astonishing discovery. Derek’s forehead and hairlines were an exact replica of Irving’s. I felt as though I were again sitting at a table with my father.
The medical team in Tijuana had told André that blood transfusions would give him strength. Back at Kaiser, he had two and found they did. I was there when he came home after his third transfusion.
It was somewhere around then that I started to cry. I don’t mean a few tears now and then (I’d been crying all along, of course). I don’t mean that I cried when I was sad or upset. I mean that I began to weep almost every day.
Let's start off on a nice bleak note. The standard line these days is that one out of every two marriages ends in divorce. Given those odds and the trauma of pulling the threads of …
Now, anybody don’t trust me, he ought to say so. He ought to come clean.”“What happens do he say so?” Pill queried. Donald leaned closer to me, “Boy come clean, he go back to the hall. That’s what.”
There were two Mr. Wrongs in quick succession. I had given up. I knew he was the right one, but I didn’t want to meet him because he would be the wrong one.
We were not allowed to talk about money at the table, crush the counters of our shoes, leave dirty silverware on the sideboard, or refer to our mother as “she,” which he found particularly disrespectful.
“Before you were born, the first time your mother felt you kick was in the middle of my guitar solo in Max’s Kansas City, to the tune of Bad Boy by the Beatles.”
These are our “golden years,” dear, and when I first met you I worried you might end up in the Golden West Hotel. I never dreamed it could be something worse: a hospital.
Norman Mailer would eat lunch there and Germaine Greer, Zero Mostel, and Lauren Bacall. We began to feel like stars ourselves, as if we were actors in some romantic, intellectual art film.