best to respect your mother’s privacy, and your own, of course, and so it’s understood that you live with your mom for most of the year, and you’re spending the summer with your dad, and that’s it, really, no big deal.”
I hope she didn’t think I would actually tell some person I’ve never met about Anthony Boyle and his sudden reemergence in my life as the transformed Mark Franco and freshly minted dad. Although it’s nice that Kati wants to make sure Mark looks good and not like an absentee father.
“I see what you’re saying,” I told her. “I’ll just do a walk-through, like you said, and let my dad do the talking.”
“Yeah, hey, whatever, just be yourself,” Kati said. “Okay, this looks good. Thanks, Luke.”
I told her “no problem” and then pointed out the tag thing on the back of her shirt.
Later, after Kati and Mark had left for the photo shoot, I ignored a hard-on and went for a run in the canyon, took care of the second hard-on that occurred after my shower, and then enjoyed the instant access to perfectly constructed food in my father’s refrigerator. Just asI was starting to think about maybe doing a little work on my essay, I heard the sounds of Mark returning: the front door opening, the keys being tossed onto the table, now accompanied by a new female voice. The interviewer, I guessed. After a moment, Mark appeared in the doorway to my room.
“Cool?”
“Cool,” I said. “I’m just looking at these websites on essay-writing advice. I’ll come say hello in a little bit?”
Mark nodded, making one of his upside-down smiles, and left. I turned back to my computer and looked at the list of writing prompts from EssaysThatDon’tSuck.com.
I just spent a few minutes practicing Mark’s upside-down smile. I’ve almost nailed it, I think.
Okay, time to do a little work.
“What fictional character do you most identify with?” This is supposed to be a creative essay–type prompt, I guess.
I like fiction, but what I identify most with is reading biology or philosophy, because that’s what is going on with everyone whether or not they are aware of it. I like poetry if it’s short. I’ve always liked Pearl’s poetry. She is really talented. Sometimes she’ll just scribble something out and hand it to you, without even taking time over the wording. I still have in my wallet this one she wrote for me on the back of a movie ticket stub.
I show my brother where I hid the body
And he tells no one
But moves it later
To a safer spot
I think
I love that last line: “I think.”
We have fictional characters in my family, sort of. Nana wrote a whole series based on stories her mother told her about growing upin Littleton, Massachusetts, in the early 1900s. I forgot to tell Mark about those. Maybe I blocked it out.
There are eight books all together, beginning with
Introducing The Mountjoy Girls
(which Nana wrote when she was just seventeen years old) and ending with
The Mountjoy Girls Set Sail
(written just before Sara was born). The Mountjoy Girls are three sisters, surprise, surprise: Sally, Anne, and Eleanor.
Nana got a bit famous from the books. In the attic there are scrapbooks filled with pictures of her in the newspapers and magazines. There’s even one of Sara and my aunts in a magazine called
McCall’s
with a caption underneath that says,
A New Generation of Mountjoy Girls: Sara, Nancy, and Caroline Duren Prescott
. There are tons of letters there from girls who read the books, too.
The
Mountjoy Girls
books went out of print for awhile, but then they got on those Recommended Reading Lists of wholesome books that Christian organizations put out for parents. So the series got reissued a few years ago in a new edition, and Nana is having kind of a comeback. She gets invited to speak at different places. She goes if it’s connected in some way with a Christian organization, because then it is goodly.
My sisters loved
The Mountjoy Girls
. They still do. When Rory and
I hope she didn’t think I would actually tell some person I’ve never met about Anthony Boyle and his sudden reemergence in my life as the transformed Mark Franco and freshly minted dad. Although it’s nice that Kati wants to make sure Mark looks good and not like an absentee father.
“I see what you’re saying,” I told her. “I’ll just do a walk-through, like you said, and let my dad do the talking.”
“Yeah, hey, whatever, just be yourself,” Kati said. “Okay, this looks good. Thanks, Luke.”
I told her “no problem” and then pointed out the tag thing on the back of her shirt.
Later, after Kati and Mark had left for the photo shoot, I ignored a hard-on and went for a run in the canyon, took care of the second hard-on that occurred after my shower, and then enjoyed the instant access to perfectly constructed food in my father’s refrigerator. Just asI was starting to think about maybe doing a little work on my essay, I heard the sounds of Mark returning: the front door opening, the keys being tossed onto the table, now accompanied by a new female voice. The interviewer, I guessed. After a moment, Mark appeared in the doorway to my room.
“Cool?”
“Cool,” I said. “I’m just looking at these websites on essay-writing advice. I’ll come say hello in a little bit?”
Mark nodded, making one of his upside-down smiles, and left. I turned back to my computer and looked at the list of writing prompts from EssaysThatDon’tSuck.com.
I just spent a few minutes practicing Mark’s upside-down smile. I’ve almost nailed it, I think.
Okay, time to do a little work.
“What fictional character do you most identify with?” This is supposed to be a creative essay–type prompt, I guess.
I like fiction, but what I identify most with is reading biology or philosophy, because that’s what is going on with everyone whether or not they are aware of it. I like poetry if it’s short. I’ve always liked Pearl’s poetry. She is really talented. Sometimes she’ll just scribble something out and hand it to you, without even taking time over the wording. I still have in my wallet this one she wrote for me on the back of a movie ticket stub.
I show my brother where I hid the body
And he tells no one
But moves it later
To a safer spot
I think
I love that last line: “I think.”
We have fictional characters in my family, sort of. Nana wrote a whole series based on stories her mother told her about growing upin Littleton, Massachusetts, in the early 1900s. I forgot to tell Mark about those. Maybe I blocked it out.
There are eight books all together, beginning with
Introducing The Mountjoy Girls
(which Nana wrote when she was just seventeen years old) and ending with
The Mountjoy Girls Set Sail
(written just before Sara was born). The Mountjoy Girls are three sisters, surprise, surprise: Sally, Anne, and Eleanor.
Nana got a bit famous from the books. In the attic there are scrapbooks filled with pictures of her in the newspapers and magazines. There’s even one of Sara and my aunts in a magazine called
McCall’s
with a caption underneath that says,
A New Generation of Mountjoy Girls: Sara, Nancy, and Caroline Duren Prescott
. There are tons of letters there from girls who read the books, too.
The
Mountjoy Girls
books went out of print for awhile, but then they got on those Recommended Reading Lists of wholesome books that Christian organizations put out for parents. So the series got reissued a few years ago in a new edition, and Nana is having kind of a comeback. She gets invited to speak at different places. She goes if it’s connected in some way with a Christian organization, because then it is goodly.
My sisters loved
The Mountjoy Girls
. They still do. When Rory and
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