Michael Beeson's Research

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A decade after her husband left, Karinger’s mother, an avid lottery player, won a sweepstakes for a new tract home on the west side of town. Soon, Karinger would be living in a big house with stairs and a rec room, and I made him promise I could stay over as much as I wanted. “Sure,” he said, “but we’ll have to make a concentrated effort to continue spending time outdoors.” I make it to the ground through carefully planned maneuvers. I’m even stiffer than yesterday, and my inner-thigh muscles are sore, after my intense deed in the dark with a man I don’t know. I’m going to try everything I can not to remember his name. It was nice while it lasted, and that’s that. I had no idea who his father was. Because of his dark coloring I supposed that he was a black man. There were about thirty possibilities. For some reason my birth-control regimen had been thrown off and somebody’s sperm made it through the war zone of my womb. His words brought excitement to the weary faces. Are you nuts? Watch Lloyd scoot forward on the cushion.“Well,” he says, “it’s about a couple — a hetero couple — and the woman, you guessed it, is left-handed. When she leaves, the man has to go to his cupboard and turn all the mugs so that the handles are on the right side. Isn’t that something?” God, I’m glad I don’t look like you, Mom. I’d never liked Lewis. His demeanor was so practiced as to be synthetic. But now I saw something inside the man: an empathy that seemed to exist only for me. In this new territory I transformed myself into Kamala, the foster daughter of wolves. Mom was always talking about her. Wild Kamala from India, who’d sucked the teats of she-wolves rather than her mother’s breasts and preferred to play with young goats instead of children after she was captured and kept in the orphanage of Reverend Singh. I scurried around on all fours between pipes, sniffing the dock and snapping at it with a howl. It felt good eating all that food and sitting outside in the stupid but beautiful day. No one came to talk to me because of my dress and shoes. It was the perfect disguise in that part of L.A., the shabby, faded look. “I have lost you. I won’t be able to get used to living without you.” Edda: The fire department. A trio of hummingbirds came by to inspect the scent of the now empty pitcher. Marcia snored gently as I watched the delicate birds inspect this wonderful but inaccessible plastic flower. “Surprised you’re up so early,” he said. “Took me a few months to get used to waking up with the sun.” So Bett? called the creature back by magic, says Hei?ur. Plus, the moon is closer to Earth now, says Margr?t. It’s awful to see it sort of dangling just over the tops of the hills. ~ ~ ~.