“I fell,” said Mom on our semi-weekly phone call. Her voice strained as if in pain and sounded thick as if I had awakened her from sleep. “I’m okay. It’s nothing.”
I didn’t notice them gathering behind me until I heard a chorus of “Excuse me!” Five shiny-faced Japanese schoolchildren, aged perhaps ten or eleven, had arranged themselves in a neat line.
I feel especially put together because I am wearing an outfit; I bought all three pieces at the same time, indicating my financial stability and dedication to appearance.
Heart pounding, I curled into a ball and let my arms absorb the blows aimed at my face until a security guard forced his way to me and dragged me out of the melee.
I suppose I could have said that I was between jobs, or that I was changing careers. That I’d been distracted by the curious landscape of southern Quebec…
Father was the kind of man who separated the halves of his finger just to show my brothers and me the red flesh after accidentally slicing it with a construction knife…
…neither Roger nor I had dates that night. We’d spent the last two hours sitting in our skivvies underwear and robes in Roger’s room…discussing our almost-completed term papers.
I won’t say we can’t be fit and healthy, but I can say we aren’t exactly known for those characteristics. We are stereotyped as pasty, tortured, intellectual, deeply troubled people with a penchant for alcohol.