You were the best man you’ve ever been with me. And you know it. The only time in your life you’ve ever liked yourself was pretending to be someone I might like. Without me? You’re just your dad.
You know: River Valley Printworks. On the edge of town? They made those blue books you used for essays and shit in college. Oh. I didn’t know. Now colleges use computers, whatnot, so—phwet!—bye-bye, B...
You just want an excuse to stay,’ she whispered. ‘You two, you’re fucking addicted to each other. You are literally going to be a nuclear family, you do know that? You will explode. You will fucking d...
You have the same rhythm. Click. You just know each other. All of a sudden you see reading in bed and waffles on Sunday and laughing at nothing and his mouth on yours. And it’s so far beyond fine that...
You do realize, that if you actually dated her, saw her on a regular basis, lived with her, that she would find some fault with you, right? That she would find some things about you that drove her cra...
You both find the exact same things worth remembering. You have the same rhythm. Click. You just know each other. All of a sudden you see reading in bed and waffles on Sunday and laughing at nothing &...
You are turning me into what I never have been and never wanted to be, a nag, because you are not living up to your end of a very basic contract. Don’t do that, it’s not okay to do.
Yet most of the time that I’m awake, I want to cut. Not small words either. Equivocate. Inarticulate. Duplicitous. At my hospital back in Illinois they would not approve of this craving.
Yeah, right. Something Wicked This Way Comes,’ Greta says. ‘It’s good.’ She chirps the last bit as if that were all to say about a book: It’s good or it’s bad. I liked it or I didn’t. No discussions o...
Y en aquel momento quise besarla, tal como la había besado la primera vez: entrechocando los dientes, su cara ladeada frente a la mía, haciéndome cosquillas en los brazos con el pelo, un beso húmedo y...
Writers (my kind of writers: aspiring novelists, ruminative thinkers, people whose brains don't work quick enough to blog or link or tweet, basically old, stubborn blowhards) were through. We were lik...
Wouldn't it be so lovely to just forget about Nick, those awful five years, and move on?
Worries find you easily enough without inviting them. With Diane, worries were almost physical beings, leechy creatures with latchhooks for fingers, meant to be vanquished immediately. Diane didn’t wo...
When you finally stop an itch and realize it's because you've ripped a hole in your skin
When people ask me that question that everyone asks: What do you do? I'd say, I'm in customer service, which was true. To me, it's nice day's work when you make a lot of people smile. I know that soun...
What’s the, like, symbol, for five years? Paper? Paper is first year, I said. At the end of Year One’s unexpectedly wrenching treasure hunt, Amy presented me with a set of posh stationery, my initials...
What should I do? Patty put her head between her knees. She felt laughter in her stomach, it was all so ludicrous. I wonder if I’m having a breakdown, she thought. Maybe I could have a breakdown and t...
What are you thinking, Amy? The question I’ve asked most often during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person who could answer. I suppose these questions stormcloud over every marriage: Wh...
What a generous thing that is, I realize, for a husband to try to make his wife laugh.
Well, rich people need stuff to buy, and socks are probably as good as anything.