Cover

pdf iconDownload PDF
 

Title Page

pdf iconDownload PDF
 

Copyright

pdf iconDownload PDF
 

read more

Acknowledgments

pdf iconDownload PDF
 

Winston Fuller, for igniting the spark. Gail Adams, for her inspiration and too many lessons to name. Chuck Kinder, for his secret feminist heart and for always seeing the wild possibilities. Lewis “Buddy” Nordan, for the three-act structure and verb lessons. Mary Rodd Furbee, for early lessons on commas, for the philosophy that a hundred rejections...

read more

October 1995

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 1-39

I wash off the makeup and glitter and study myself in the dressing room mirror. Through a film of hairspray, my breasts look like limp water balloons pinned up at a county fair. Sweaty strands of black hair cling to my shoulders. My rib cage strains like a breastplate beneath my skin, suspended from jutting collarbones...

read more

November 1995

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 41-79

In my room resting after Dad picked me up from the airport in Morgantown. We drove in silence through the chilled countryside, barren except for the occasional white house tucked in the woods or a tractor in the fields. (Country roads, take me home.) Dad said that I should ignore Ma’s meddling. That Sam’s hospitalization still has...

read more

December 1995

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 81-125

He said, I really miss you, Tess. I heard him scratching his beard. And I choked up. Pandy paced in front of me, and I told Dad that the next time I visit, I’ll bring her to kill all the mice and snakes because she’s tougher than their lazy cats. And we both laughed ridiculous belly laughs. He said that he and Ma talked. They’d love to see me...

read more

January 1996

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 127-176

It is officially the New Year, folks. We partied hard last night. Peter met us at the apartment for shots. He also supplied weed—a lovely drug, if I must say so. Then we staggered from one steamy bar to another, only slightly shaken into sobriety by the icy winds that clawed down the streets...

read more

February 1996

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 177-207

You see, she continued, an alcoholic must decide to get sober, usually once they hit rock bottom, and my constant worrying, my helping Sam out of trouble, makes me an enabler. She sighed, patting her chest in the comforting, self-congratulating way that drives me crazy...

Author's Note and About the Author

pdf iconDownload PDF

p. 208