It had all started about five or six years earlier, around the first time I fell in love. I didn’t know when it would end.
Sometimes I’m convinced no other person will ever know my fragile heart the way I do.
“The dads are here for Bruce; the dads hold these truths about Bruce to be self-evident.”
“Yes, the border divides . . . but the culture of this place is of one, not two.”
“‘I am Fidel’—that was the official watchword for all Cubans mourning the Comandante.”
“What if Granny had grabbed a weapon to protect herself from the invisible people?”
Every time someone guesses wrong, I am the one to apologize.
“Who is responsible for and to this woman, her safety, her body, her memory?”
“I went on the internet, searched ‘fear of death,’ and a name appeared.”