Saint Mazie: A Novel

Saint Mazie: A Novel by Jami Attenberg Page A

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Authors: Jami Attenberg
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something, anything. I don’t want to talk about it ever. No one can make me.

Mazie’s Diary, December 11, 1918
    They took the mattress away while I was at the Venice. I slept on the couch the last ten days, and Jeanie slept next to Rosie. No one wanted to be in the same room as it.

Mazie’s Diary, December 13, 1918
    I came home from work tonight and Louis was sitting quietly at the kitchen table with a glass of something strong in front of him. He looked like he’d been waiting for me to show up all night. Rosie was stretched out on the couch. She had a small pillow over her eyes. Louis told me to come join him. His voice was crumbling. I sat next to him and put my hand on his arm. I said his name.
    He said: I am devastated for you and for this family.
    I said: I’m going to be fine.
    He said: They made us memorize poems in school. They just sit there in my head waiting for me, waiting for me to need them. My favorite was always Wordsworth. Do you like Wordsworth?
    I said: I’ve never read him.
    He said: You should read him. He was smart. I’ll buy you a book of his.
    I told him I would like that.
    He said: I can’t stop thinking of this one line of his from a poem called “Intimations of Immortality.” Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. And I believe that baby slept right through it, and doesn’t remember a thing now. I’ve got to be right. Don’t you think I’m right, Mazie?
    He was crying then. These big gusts of tears from this big man. He was nearly choking on it. His whole body shaking. Rosie rose, I did too. We threw our arms around him. Our dear Louis.
    I don’t know if we will ever be happy again. It doesn’t feel that way. I can’t imagine what that looks like anymore. Happy.
    But I think we will feel better than this someday. We have to feel better than this someday.

Benjamin Hazzard, Jr.
    What did I do? I went home. When she began to cry I realized instantly that I had made a terrible mistake, and that I was not where I was supposed to be. Of course I should have been with my mother all along. So I went home.

Mazie’s Diary, January 1, 1919
    I dyed my hair blond. New year. I will leave the past behind. Jeanie didn’t recognize me when I walked in the door.
    I said: Good.

Benjamin Hazzard, Jr.
    She ended up being sort of tough-looking in the end, which surprised me a little bit. Certainly you could tell she had once been enormously sexy. I was admittedly a randy nineteen-year-old when I met her, but I can assure you she filled out that cage nicely. And having any attraction to her when she was my mother’s age makes me feel a level of discomfort I refuse to parse.
    I will say this: Most of the other women in my father’s life were a bit better maintained. I haven’t used this word in a long time, but she was a real broad. I imagine she had bleached her hair for many years, and it was wiry, and the ends were split. All of the smile lines around her mouth were pronounced, and there was this pinkish color to her skin. She was somewhere between rosy and boozy. We all fall apart no matter what, obviously, but some of what we consume leaves a more vivid trail behind than others.

Mazie’s Diary, January 16, 1919
    They passed Prohibition today. Just what all those soldiers fresh home from the war need—sobriety! Sister Tee came by the cage, pretending like she just happened to be in the neighborhood, but I knew she wanted to brag about it a bit.
    I said: You got anything to do with this Prohibition business?
    She said: Just said a prayer or two.
    I said: Great, now I’ll know who to blame when I’m thirsty.
    It won’t make a lick of difference though. People will find booze if they want it bad enough. This is New York City. We like our drink here. I know I’m not planning on giving it up.

Mazie’s Diary, March 16, 1919
    We’re moving to Coney Island soon. Rosie told us tonight. Louis has business there now. Just like that, he has business. They’re looking for a house near the

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