Publication Year: 2014
Published by: Wayne State University Press
Series: Made in Michigan Writers Series
Praise, Title Page, Series Page, Copyright Page, Dedication
I’M SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYING at my kitchen table, which in the two years since my divorce has doubled as my desk, but as the evening wears on, I push aside my textbooks, pick up Single File—the local personal ad paper—and start leafing through the men. One guy in a ten-gallon claims to be a cowboy, although...
I’M READING IN BED in the farmhouse I bought shortly aft er Marly turned twelve when I hear a car roll up the driveway. It’s my ex, dropping off Marly. The car door slams, the front door opens, and Marly walks through the living room and into the kitchen and then into my room. Since I last saw...
SOON AFTER I BUY my house in rural Michigan, my brother Arthur, visiting from Manhattan, walks through the barn-sized garage that comes with my new property and declares it “man bait.”...
ONE SPRING EVENING as I’m reading in bed, Marly calls and tells me that there is a man sleeping on her porch. “I think he’s moved in, Mom. The couch on the porch is his new home base. He’s planning to stay.”...
I’M SITTING AROUND with two of my women friends one evening when Karen says, “Nina, tell Annie about that guy who was housesitting for you! He sounds like he would be perfect for Annie!” ...
THE RINGING PHONE reaches through the black caul of my sleep. My eyes open on red numbers—1:20 A.M.—and I leap out of bed and stumble into the kitchen. As I pick up the handset, I am fully awake....
THE FIRST TIME I SEE HAL, he is approaching from the distance, walking north along the shoreline as I am walking south. It’s the first week of October, and the weather has turned chilly. Dusk is just beginning to soft en the blue sky and, except for us, the beach is deserted....
“REMEMBER MY FRIEND BRAD?” Marly asks as we are
eating Sunday dinner in my kitchen. With her curved, dainty
hand, she picks up a calzone.
“Remind me,” I say....
WHEN I FIRST SEE SAM, I’m not looking for a man. It’s the first morning of my family’s annual reunion, and my two oldest brothers and I have cleared our breakfast plates and sorted our silverware and stepped outside the dining hall. The three of us are sitting along one of the camp’s boardwalks, chatting in the...