“I fell,” said Mom on our semi-weekly phone call. Her voice strained as if in pain and sounded thick as if I had awakened her from sleep. “I’m okay. It’s nothing.”
I didn’t notice them gathering behind me until I heard a chorus of “Excuse me!” Five shiny-faced Japanese schoolchildren, aged perhaps ten or eleven, had arranged themselves in a neat line.
I feel especially put together because I am wearing an outfit; I bought all three pieces at the same time, indicating my financial stability and dedication to appearance.
I suppose I could have said that I was between jobs, or that I was changing careers. That I’d been distracted by the curious landscape of southern Quebec…
Father was the kind of man who separated the halves of his finger just to show my brothers and me the red flesh after accidentally slicing it with a construction knife…