Within three weeks, he’d gone from six steady hands to eleven. Eight men, three women. Tattoos. Scars. Nervous smiles. Hard eyes. All of them wanting something….He respected that. Wanting something was how you stayed alive.… more
Within three weeks, he’d gone from six steady hands to eleven. Eight men, three women. Tattoos. Scars. Nervous smiles. Hard eyes. All of them wanting something….He respected that. Wanting something was how you stayed alive.… more
He twirls me around and then lifts me on the kitchen counter and starts singing loudly in his broken English. I shush him but he doesn’t stop. He dances in circles while the pan catches on fire and the smoke of burnt chicken fills up my nostrils.… more
What had followed was a cycle, an expulsion of amassed pain. It could not be dispelled nor evaporated, it had to be unleashed the way clouds poured the rains they harbored, rather than condensed into the buried recesses of wells. Despite her sins, she has suffered plenty.… more
To the woman, the cookie clearly represented a cookie. It was not a metaphor or simile or allegory. The woman had never thought about cookies having a deeper meaning. But she dug deeper. She settled into her chair. She furrowed her brow. The gears turned and the chains flowed. Eventually, in a somewhat confused voice, she spoke. … more
My family had been killed; yours had lived. But there was pressure in that, that grateful weight.… more
People who had childhoods like mine did so comfortably numb. It was normal. It was all I ever knew. But here’s something I didn’t put in the book: in high school (after I got away from my father) I had friends who lived inside the foster care system. I used to go to their homes and hang out after school sometimes, because when I was little, I used to fantasize about being taken away and put into foster care. I knew it would be so much better.… more