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Sexual Tension Grows Between Ex-lovers
Erik folded his hands beneath his black sweater, his thumbs fidgeting with the wool. “I know we’ re supposed to go to dinner,” he said, “But I don’t know if I can even eat right now.” I laughed. “What? Am I making you sick?” “No, no, not at all, it’s that … it’s just a lot, being with you.” Our break-up three years ago was the farthest thing from civil, and I knew, after not seeing eachother for all of that time, we were both uncertain of what we should do with the palpable sexual...
read moreGod Inflicts Anger
I walk out of the closet, my arms full of Erik’s shirts, all still on hangers. My 8-month-pregnant belly acts as a shelf, enabling me to carry more. “I hope you’re alright with this,” I say to my brother, Troy. “That you don’t think it’s weird I’m giving you Erik’s stuff.” I pile the shirts on top of my bed, the white plastic hangers clinking together like falling dominoes. “No, I don’t think it’s weird, as long as you’re fine, as long as you feel ready,” Troy holds up a navy blue button-down....
read morePregnant Widow Shutting Down
Tatiana clings to me, her legs wrapped beneath my 9-month pregnant belly, while the other Marin Day School toddlers push balls, rakes, miniature vacuums, and each other around in the outdoor play area of the preschool. Primary colored toys are scattered everywhere—many of which Erik had cleaned only two months before, when he donated his time to Tatiana’s school to make some “minor repairs.” Erik was supposed to fix a couple of loose locks over a weekend, but the teachers returned to a new garden of...
read more11-Year-Old Boy Tries to Save his Father
Erik told me about his dad, Hayden, when we first started dating. We were both 20, both students at Florida State University. Erik majored in computer science while I studied creative writing. Within days of knowing one another, it was obvious that Erik’s rational, organized side would compliment the artist in me. Erik spoke slowly, with quiet intensity. “We were on vacation.” I sat cross-legged, on Erik’s bedroom floor, soaking in the masculine whisper of his words. My attention was...
read moreFather and Son’s Ashes Scattered Together
I give Troy the burgundy velvet bag that contains Erik’s ashes. “Do you mind holding them? I may need to run down to the beach by myself.” “I’ll put them in my back pack.” Troy rests the gray sack by his feet and slides the ashes in. He starts to zip up the backpack, but pauses. “Jeanette, I might be able to fit yours in, too.” Jeanette hugs her pine box closer to her chest. “No, I want to hold him. Hayden’s fine right here.” My mother-in-law, Jeanette, has held on to her husband’s ashes for 17 years...
read moreBirth of a Fatherless Child
My body is as still as a corpse while my obstetrician shaves the rest of my pubic hair, so that she can neatly slice my womb open. I stare at my right hand, into the dark eyes of the black and white photograph I am holding of my husband, Erik. I study his black hair, his defined jaw, his young 29-year-old skin, probing his face for answers, but the picture has no reply. He should be here. How can he not be here for Keira’s birth? Instead, my mom positions herself to the right of the steel operating table,...
read moreDeath Caused by Thoughts?
I folded our warm white towels while Tatiana, only twelve months old then, napped in her bedroom. Erik and I had been married just over two years and, already, I was four months pregnant with our second daughter, Keira. Erik and I both felt the same intense love for Tatiana and were excited to have another baby right away. But there was no excitement in the house that day. The house was quiet, except for the annoyed thoughts I could hear myself thinking about Erik. Sick of his crap. We had not been speaking to...
read moreErik Grieve 1973 — 2003, Life is Not About the Dates on Either Side, But the Hyphen in Between
I walked in slow-motion towards Erik’s closed, mahogany casket. The old stone chapel was filled with familiar faces. There were faces from Skywalker Ranch and other Lucas parties, faces I had photographed in my studio, faces from my bridal shower, my wedding, and Tatiana’s birth. I kept my head down. As the pregnant widow, all eyes were on me, but I did not want to be seen. Direct eye contact would break me open in a way that I would not be ready to be broken open for years. Dressed in an ankle-length maternity...
read moreErik Grieve’s Easter Sunday Request
I admired Erik in the shower that Easter Sunday morning. Salt and pepper hair. Deep brown eyes. Broad masculine shoulders covered by smooth olive skin. Steam had filled the bathroom, like the fog that frequently hovered over the Golden Gate Bridge. I could only see parts of his body through the hazy, glass shower doors. He sat against the corner of the tub, as he always did, carefully scraping the skin off of his well-manicured feet. I pulled out an assortment of maternity clothes from the closet and set them...
read moreConfronting the Lion (Prologue)
Have yet to figure out the descent from these mountains I have climbed. Two butterflies, burnt orange in shade, dance frantically around me, only an inch away from each other. Bells in the distance, buoys navigate the way, and the fog horn blows on this clear sun-filled day. There are no whales to be seen down below. No seals doing somersaults. No deer hopping their way through the golden summer bushes. I turn off my music so that I may hear the mountain lion preying on me for her morning feast. I figure...
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