Heptadecagon

She knows when she looks back on the moment later, she'll laugh. But now, as she watches her mom walk up and down the stairs and then watches her dad do the same thing, looks of confusion filling each of their faces, neither one convinced that the jacket in her hand is really her mother's, she realizes just how bad her parents' minds have become. How and when did the trajectory turn south? Hadn't she been there, most of the days, to help them with the mundane activities? Hadn't she been shuttling them to this appointment and that, finding the time to fit in trips to the grocery store and the library and church? Maybe she'd been too close to see anything, but she really figured she'd have more time than this to make changes in her life. To make changes in their lives. "Mom! This isn't my coat." She shakes the garment, trying to transfer her frustration from her own body to this inanimate object. "This isn't a coat that any of us hav...

I cannot tell you how many of my friends talk to me about people being uninformed these days. Despite the plethora of news via social media and other technology, people tend not to read anymore. Instead, they look at a headline, make a rash judgment, and share the news wihtout actually having read the actual article they are promoting or condemning. And really, I see this behavior from left leaners, centrists, right wingers, and everyone else. I've even done it myself once or twice, but I learned long ago that being uninformed or misinformed is a state I'd rather not inhabit. So I try my best not to do it. Well, the other day, I found a very disturbing headline attached to a post I read on--where else?--Facebook. And my first inclination was to yell out, "I don't think so!" But my second thought was to click on the article and see what it had to say. So, I did just that. Screen shot of the post. Come to find out, a little video was attached, along with a ...

The second time I ran into Terry, she hugged me close and whispered in my ear, "It's so good to see you." And by the twinkle in her eye and the curve of her lips, I believed her. It wasn't long after, though, that I realized she spoke those same words to each person she encountered and that I--her friend for years--really wasn't that special. My heart hurt when I thought of all the times we had spent together. The conversations about our children as we swirled milk into our tea, how we spoke about husbands--current and ex--while we watched our children splash in the pool. I'd see her at school, pull her to the side, and chit-chat for minutes, making us late to our respective appointments. She always had a smile for me. She always had a hug. She always made me feel as though she and I had an extraordinary friendship. I should have known. The signs were there. A missed luncheon appointment. A text and an email that went unanswered. She defected from our b...

To see parts I and II of this story, go here and here . While the moment seemed to stretch indefinitely, Caroline knew it couldn't have. But during that time, when she stood on the steps of the church, tears staining her face, hands trembling, right after she'd whispered the words she knew Adam didn't want to hear, it was almost as if in the back of her mind, a clock began to tick. "I don't know" wasn't going to hold off Adam for long and he deserved more than that noncommittal answer. Even if he'd toyed with her heart, which she was pretty sure he had done, she didn't want to toy with his. "What do you mean, you don't know?" Adam's normally olive skin looked stark and drawn under the light of the street lamps. His hands shook as he placed the box back in his pocket and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "I..." Caroline wasn't sure what to say and tried again. "I can see it, Adam. I can see us g...

To read Part I of this story, go here . Hands had always been important to Caroline. Adam had large, warm, capable hands. Unlined, palms slightly calloused. When they first started dating, she'd never have described his hands as capable , but she'd read that description once in a romance novel and she realized that yes, her Adam, did have capable hands. Sappy, but true. Now, she looked at their intertwined fingers and wondered exactly what his hands were capable of. Did they harbor the capacity to cheat on her? Had his fingers trailed down the arm of that girl her friend had told her about? When he said he'd been at work, which lately, he'd been doing more of, had he really been out with her? The girl? She clutched his fingers tightly against her palm, afraid to let go of them. Caroline knew, if she did, she might float away from this world, never to come back. "Seriously, Caro. Let's go. I want to show you something." "What is it?" Car...

Rita always knew what to say, how to say it, and when to say it, but as she sat in her car in the parking lot of her local Kroger store ("Right Store, Right Price"), words refused to move from her brain to her mouth. "What did you say?" Rita asked her brother, Robert, who called her most mornings with a news update. Those updates spanned the gamut: from non-news about current celebrities to the antics of his twin 10-year-old sons, to things that their parents had said to him. Lately, the last category contained preposterous news. "The shit old people say," Robert always said. "Who knew?" "Yep. She said it. Mom said it. To me. On the phone. Yesterday." Robert's clipped words meant only one thing: he was driving into work, probably surrounded by loads of traffic. Rita gazed out the window at the fog that hung in the air. She was so tired of the heat and humidity that draped every landscape and just as tired of hearing all the cr...

Caroline knew it was time for them to break up. The words had been written on the wall for months now. Okay, maybe not literally written on the walls, but when each interaction with a supposed loved one took more energy than anything else in your day, it made you stop and think about that relationship. The question she asked herself was, Could she live without him? She knew what her mother would say, had she been alive. She'd turn that question around and ask Caroline, Could she live with him? Based on her daily life with Adam lately, she'd have to say no. And that thought caused her stomach to clench and the breath to leave her body. She heaved and fell to the couch, doubling over her knees, with her head in her hands. Caroline didn't know how long she sat there, almost numb from the thought of having to let go of her love, but soon enough, a hand fell on her back. "You okay, Caro?" She looked up at Adam, not caring if he saw the tears that most likely ...

I had no plans to lie here all day in this hospital bed, but with David next to me as a guard, I knew I wouldn't be moving any time soon. Or at least not soon enough for me. He still clung to the belief—put there by Marissa—that I'd be headed to rehab. I still clung to the belief that I could go home. What an impasse. I adjusted my shoulders and tried to move my legs. They felt heavy and full, as if leaded shrapnel had filled the hollowness. Crap, maybe Marissa was right. How could I go home if I couldn't get out of bed myself? I fell back against the pillow and closed my eyes. How had I gotten here? I thought back to everything I'd done in my life. From the Air Force, to marrying Angie, to having the kids. I tried to keep my faith and foremost in my mind as I could. Sure, I'd have my moments, my sins, but I'd learned my lesson and moved on. Was this God's way of punishing me? Saying I'd done something wrong? It was easy to believe that. Place the bl...