family
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The woman in Jackson Square told me I had brought someone with me. I smiled. Of course I had. He had been with me for years. New Orleans was sweating through midnight, all perfume and rot beneath the balconies. Rain still glistened between the bricks. Somewhere down Chartres Street, a trumpet was playing something slow…
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Actually, I’m my mother’s revenge. The voice she didn’t have, the boundaries she couldn’t keep, the consequence nobody expected when they mistook her kindness for permission. Her story isn’t yours to tell. But tell them all I’m coming. Not for blood. That would be too easy. I am coming for the things women like her…
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I used to think “the one who got away” was just something guys said to sound deep at bars while holding a beer they weren’t even drinking. Then I met her. And suddenly every other woman felt like a group project where I did all the work and still got a C. She was the…
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Let me go ahead and clear something up before the story gets twisted at family dinners and Facebook comments… I didn’t end up in Texas. I chose Texas. Loud. Proud. Possibly a little dramatic about it. And if you ask me why, I’ll give you a different answer every time depending on how much coffee—or…
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She moved away from everything that was, everything that could have been, and everything that still tried to cling. Always moving, never lingering. The past threw its reminders at her feet, but none of them were worth gathering. A slate wiped clean was all that mattered, for time was not to be wasted—it was to…
