Page 1 (1/2)
I love Thursday nights
They have a feel to them that’s outside of time
It’s our tradition, just the three of us—faht
My son, Charlie, is sitting at the table, drawing on a sketch pad He’s alreo inches over the summer, and he’s as tall as I am now
I turn away fro, ask, “Can I see?”
He holds up the pad, showson another planet
I say, “Love that Just for fun?”
“Class project Due tomorrow”
“Then get back to it, Mr Last Minute”
Standing happy and slightly drunk in ht is the end of all of this The end of everything I know, everything I love
No one tells you it’s all about to change, to be taken away There’s no proxi on the precipice And ic Not just what happens, but how it happens: a sucker punch that co it No time to flinch or brace
The track lights shine on the surface ofmy eyes Thelonious Monk spins on the old turntable in the den There’s a richness to the analog recording I can never get enough of, especially the crackle of static between tracks The den is filled with stacks and stacks of rare vinyl that I keep tellingone of these days
My wife, Daniela, sits on the kitchen island, swirling her al her phone in the other She feelsup from the screen
“I know,” she says “I’ht”
“What’s so important?” I ask
She levels her dark, Spanish eyes on ”
I walk over to her, take the phone gently out of her hand, and set it on the countertop
“You could start the pasta,” I say
“I prefer to watch you cook”
“Yeah?” Quieter: “Turns you on, huh?”
“No, it’s just ”
Her breath is wine-sweet, and she has one of those smiles that seem architecturally impossible It still slays me
I polish off ht?”
“It would be stupid not to”
As I liberate the cork from a new bottle, she picks her phone back up and shows azine’s review of Marsha Altman’s show”
“Were they kind?”
“Yeah, it’s basically a love letter”
“Good for her”
“I always thought…” She lets the sentence die, but I knohere it was headed Fifteen years ago, before we o’s art scene She had a studio in Bucktown, showed her work in a half-dozen galleries, and had just lined up her first solo exhibition in New York Then ca postpartum depression
Derailment