..Devin was the only person I knew with an actual job. Granted, he stocked children’s rollerblades and cans of tennis balls in the sports department of some Walmart … Still, it was enough for him to be a swaggering minimum-wage retail sugar daddy …
My son runs into the living room. He wears the tuxedo he received last Christmas, the cuffs now high above his wrists. It’s New Year’s Eve, and I keep an eye on the clock.
My friend Dan texted me to ask if I remembered Sid. I replied, “Of course I remembered Sid. Why?”
My father gave me my first real job. I was happy to accept the grace of nepotism.
I worked at the Dakota Watch Company because Stacy was cute.
I know the deadline for applications for Ballgirl positions for the 2012 season has long since passed…
Scrolling through Yahoo’s online finance page, I stumble on this purple headline: “A U.S. Debt Crisis Is On Its Way.”
The old ladies sit and wait to die. While they are waiting they might play Bingo or have their hair done, but do not be fooled. What they really want to do is die.
I tell Joel that I’m late and ask him if I should go get a test. I watch as the meaning of what I just said moves across his eyes, darkening them. He tells me to wait a few days. He says he’s not ready to hear the answer.
It won’t happen again for a thousand years, the article said. That was enough for me to set the alarm for fifteen minutes before four on a Saturday, even though Richard and I were warm under the hand-sewn quilt, in a cabin whose walls gave off the aroma of wood smoke.
