998 Chapters
Medium 9781574412406

4. Wanted

Aimee La Brie University of North Texas Press PDF

Wa n t e d


Eleanor who may have somehow gotten Ann’s genetic inability to meet someone nice who is not married, gay, or a psychotic freak.

Here’s who she has dated over the last two years since moving to Chicago to escape her too-clingy, too sweet, too married boyfriend in Florida: An Armenian dental student who said, “It’s not that I don’t want to be with anyone. It’s just that I don’t want to be with you.” The method actor who told her she resembled a young Elizabeth Taylor, adding that she probably needed to watch her weight as well. Two blind dates set up by friends, both named Todd and both flamingly gay. The punk rocker who slapped her ass while they were making out and gave her six raspberry-sized hickies on her collarbone like a necklace. The red-headed chubby guy who burst into tears over his ex-wife at a restaurant. (Did she go out with any of these men again? Yes, in fact, she did.)

Her friend Renee tells her she needs to be more discriminating. “It’s like you get the information early on that the guy is a freak, and then you continue to date him anyway.”

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Medium 9781574415384


Jessica Hollander University of North Texas Press ePub


Before the trip to Grandma’s, I emptied my closet and cut the buttons from my clothes. I stuffed them in my pockets and ran my hands through the cold plastic discs the whole way to Lansing.

Mom said, “Be nice.” She had bologna and Miracle Whip and a tiny tin of caviar in the cooler between us. She had Wonder Bread and china cups in a plastic grocery bag. “I don’t want any observations from you. She doesn’t need to hear it.”

Grandma’s house smelled like lemon cleaner and wet Band-Aids. She had jars of buttons around her living room: a jar of blue, a jar of green, a jar of red. On her coffee table with the clawed feet: a half jar of pink. On her stained-black fireplace: a quarter jar of gray. Tubes trailed from Grandma’s nose and disappeared behind a cushion. She wore a smooth yellow smock. Her couch was red and black flowers. When Mom spoke, Grandma looked at the jar on the coffee table.

“With Joel’s promotion they gave him a window. So there’s the real world while he works and he’s a little closer.” Mom pulled at some threads on her armchair. She had three rings with diamonds on her fingers. She looked at me, sitting on the floor by the coffee table with my coat still on. “And Celia’s become a brat. She takes socks from our dresser and makes sock balls with more than two socks, stretching as many as she can until they’re all misshapen.”

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Medium 9780253019073

Afterward: An Introduction

Colin Rafferty Break Away Book Club Edition ePub

These things usually start with a date, so:

On February 26, 2000, my mother’s fiftieth birthday, I found myself staring up at pieces of plywood in an exurb of Denver, Colorado. The plywood covered some windows that had been broken on purpose almost a year earlier and would stay in place until completion of renovations, a few months away.

From my remove, I shoved my hands a little deeper into my coat’s pockets, trying to block out the wind that swept down from the foothills of the Rockies. I was out of my way; my parents live in Boulder, about a half hour from Denver physically and a million miles away in temperament. Driving up here, I’d left the billboard-free, chain-disdaining environs of Boulder County for the strip mall wonderland of Jefferson County.

A temporary trailer, the kind used on construction sites—this is a construction site, I reminded myself—stood to the right of the boarded-up windows. It served, I’d read, as the school’s temporary library. I thought about all of those books inside, what they’d seen, each one of them marked permanently with the scars of where they’d come from, a smudged stamp on the inside cover reading Columbine High School Library.

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Medium 9781574412789

Chapter Seven

Jane Roberts Wood University of North Texas Press PDF

Summer 1944

Chapter Seven

• 1


race and Amelia have decided to spend the day together because

Grace will leave for New York the following day. After lunch they go to an early movie. Grace wants to see Mr. Skeffing­ton with Bette

Davis, but Amelia has seen it. They decide to see Snow White, smiling at the idea of grown women choosing a children’s movie.

And then, strangely (Grace can’t imagine why), as she watches the beguiling little dwarfs and Snow White’s mothering of them, she imagines Bucy—tall, very tall, lean, handsome—wearing his periwinkle blue shirt (the one she has most recently given to her washwoman), his eyes squinched up with laughter, his Adam’s apple going up and down. She is not sure John would like the movie. But Bucy would love the funny dwarfs, the music, the color, the artistry of it. Perhaps they can see a movie in New York after she has said, “Tell me why you left.” Had he known she couldn’t love him enough and been too kind to say it? Was that why he had painted those words over their bed and left?

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Medium 9789810861131

Another Man’s Crime by Michele Koh

Goodwin, Temari & Hoye (Editors) Monsoon Books ePub
"Another Man’s Crime" by Michele Koh

A romance short story set in Singapore, first published in "Love and Lust in Singapore" (Monsoon Books, Singapore)

Adultery is the most treacherous thing next to murder. I wholly disapprove of the act; yet for the last four years I have found myself a perpetrator. Now that Millie is dead, the weight of the thing hangs upon me in an agonizing manner. I often ask myself these days if my conscience might not be ameliorated had I told her about my crime whilst she was still alive. Probably not, I conclude. The cancer had her in so much pain; I imagine that a revelation of infidelity would have been devastating; a blow that only the cruellest of executioners could deliver. Perhaps I could have said something during one of those calmer patches in the eleven-year course of her illness. Would that have redeemed me as a husband, as a man? When the dastardly disease was in remission, I would so clearly see the young Singaporean nurse who stole my heart. On the good days, my Millie would smile like a child on Christmas day, full of faith that she would be well again. Confident that she would be fit enough for us to travel to Manchester on Easter to visit our son Paul and his new wife. But the illness always returned and quickly reduced her to a sallow, ashen creature … See All Chapters

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