We’d explored the far reaches of the continent and survived. We had 2,000 miles between us and school, but I was certain my pal Wildman would get us home. I prayed to God, even though mixing travel and religion was a questionable practice. I’d rejected certain Biblical teachings, such as the Old Testament story of Isaac and Abraham. Why…
1 This was not the Tinseltown Los Angeles of the world’s imagination. I looked around at my cohorts at orientation for this language proofreading gig for the LA County Board of Elections. They were clad in baggy clothes from Costco, were balding or had drugstore hair dye jobs, sported clompy scuffed shoes or spike heels too fancy for a…
The cobbles under my wheels make my old bike bounce as I ride along, its loose bell jangling ever so quietly, the noise echoing through the stillness of the Oud-West. I have a little headlight that gains more power the faster I pedal, and I like to keep it bright-bright-bright. I am heading home from work, away from the…
When I hugged my family goodbye, said I love them, stood aside—me on one side, all five of them on the other side—my youngest sister crying, my dad saying, “Go, go!” and I walked into the airport, the icy hands of alone cuffed me. Even the metal chair by the departure gate, on which I sat, felt cold to…
When you work for the cat sanctuary, you have everything you need. You may not be able to afford the organic yogurt with its own sidecar of muesli topping. You should lay down any lust for handbags with proud monograms. But you will have a seat on the speed dial of a man whose email address begins with “108shamans.” When…
From my reception desk in the lobby, I watched my boss hang a poster, featuring a team of superheroes familiar from comic books and franchise films. “Heroes Work Here,” the poster declared. The heroes here looked nothing like the ones on the poster. Instead of athletic bodies able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, most employees were women…
Our first date was going pretty well, I thought. Learning to make guacamole in a cooking class. “Oh no, I’m getting teary onion eyes,” Brooke giggled. She wiped at her cheeks with her forearms, but they were all skin and elbows, with nothing fleshy to apply. I was supposed to be learning how to fondle a ripe avocado, but I…
Ubutata Kutatishyanya The duties of a father and child must be reciprocal Bemba proverb. I am learning about forgiveness through a recollection of vertigo after my father. A Sunday before school, I am eleven, and the most important worry is how I will render myself to my friends in light of another loss for which they’ll punish me with…
It was Christmas Day at the prison. Several inches of snow had fallen during the night, and the temperature was a biting twenty degrees below zero. I helped McKenzie, our youngest, zip her pink parka and snuggle the fake fur hood around her beautiful face. Katie, fourteen, and Beau, eleven, were all suited up before McKenzie finished wrestling with her…
By Breen Nolan I first met Emily May the summer of 2021 in a Zoom room. We were attending the Southampton Writers Conference and spent five days workshopping our essays with a small group of other writers. It was the height of the Delta variant and the West was burning; everything felt bleak. But May’s writing beckoned to something in…