When I lost the prescription plan, life got harder. I can’t remember why I lost it. Did I switch insurance or did they switch me? I think they switched me. One day I had it, the next I didn’t. It was so messed up. I was in the new place by then. The one in […]
Always an earthquake before the tsunami, isn’t there? Looking back you think there musta been a sign, musta been a warning that change was coming. And maybe there was, too subtle to see. If I could go back and stay asleep that day, would things have been different? ‘Cause the moment I woke, the world […]
We were lined up facing each other, he and I. That long row of window seats on the 146. I sat across from him, eyeing his pantyhose. He sat across from me, eyeing me, eyeing his pantyhose. He’d been jogging, the blue shorts pulled up high. What does it feel like to run in nylons? […]
“What do you call a pig that does karate?” On the treadmill, incline at 10, speed at 5, and some guy’s in my face talking about a pork chop. Does he not see me sweating? The Tribune people had left, probably home eating sloppy Joe’s by now. I was stuck. “What’s your name?” the guy […]
With his words, Dr. Sullivan had practically said I didn’t have epilepsy. Not because he believed that, but because I did. I pictured the lakefront the previous spring. The reeling, the gravity, the sweat. Nothing had ever felt so final. That’s what made me think it was leading somewhere. It was unfair of me to […]
Dr. Sullivan was the kind of man who’d appreciate an aged Scotch. He had this wry sense of humor and old-school way of being, as if he might refer to women as “broads.” Handsome in an educated way, he carried himself with a refinement that spoke to East Coast credentials. When he laughed, it was […]
You know why I stopped? I couldn’t make the jump from 200 milligrams to 175. That’s it. That’s the reason. Tapering is a game of Russian roulette. Is the bullet in the chamber? Will you have a seizure? It’s anybody’s guess. Without a doctor telling me I didn’t have epilepsy, my chances of having […]
Rounds with Dad always started with the car. Six years old, riding shotgun in the 280Z. Metallic blue with racing seats in shoe polish white. Through the shadows of the elms, sunlight falls like confetti. I take in a breath and the scent of lilacs falls too. There’s the jutting of a sprinkler, a lone […]