“Is he the one with the infection?” “No, parasites. My son is the one with the pus.” We’d been stuck in the elevator for eighteen hours.
The first split is the first time she opens her eyes. She wakes, while the other still sleeps. And they’ve already begun to grow apart.
Pa knew too much, liked to talk. There were questions. Scared, Ma got a truck and cleaned out the house, left Dad only his favorite chair.
My wife nagged me for years to put down my laptop. To shut her up, I did. After one day with me, she gave it back. Shoulda done it sooner.
He caught me again. Are you crazy? Jamaican moms do it. My baby’s not Jamaican. Who says it’s yours? He hogged the rest of the bowl.
He thought they were soul mates, until the day she lifted her head from the toilet to answer his hesitant, hopeful question: “I hope not.”