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Welcome to Issue 35 of Umbrella Factory Magazine. Issue 35 marks the beginning of our tenth year of Umbrella Factory Magazine. When I think about it, the magazine in general and the years it has been going on, I am gobsmacked. I can say that there have been times over the years when I felt a strong identity with this magazine and my place within it. Of course with the vast amount of magazines, both online and print, that have come and gone in the last ten years, I can't help but feel satisfied that we have just kept moving along. For your consideration this issue we have new prose from Mark Conkling and Kate St. Germain. We have a selection of poems from a long time contributor Darren Demaree and a new friend, Ellen Stone. I am especially fond of Ellen Stone's poem, “Thanksgiving at Mass General.” Read. Submit. Comment. Tell everyone you know. Stay Dry. Anthony ILacqua 3
Table of Contents Fiction: Mark Conkling “The Day Whales Surrounded the Boat”- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 5 Kate St. Germain “Unconditional”- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -12 Poetry: Ellen Stone
“Thanksgiving at Mass General”- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -20 “Despair” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 21 “The Cat & the River”- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 22
Darren Demaree
“Emily as a Southern Gothic House” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -23 “Emily as the Bottom of the Sea” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -24 “Emily as Her Nipples Swell” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 25
Contributor's Notes- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -27
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don’t have the Internet, and there’s no TV. How do people live here?” He paced back and forth. Laura wrinkled her nose. “The desk clerk said they have Wi-Fi at the restaurant. We’re welcome to sit there and check email. Have you taken your blood pressure pill?”
THE DAY WHALES SURROUNDED THE BOAT Mark Conkling The night before the day whales surrounded the boat, Doug and Laura stayed in Room Seventeen, a bayside room at Glacier Bay Lodge near Gustavus, Alaska, and took antacids for their persistent nausea. Laura had thrown up the last two nights, and although she washed her pajamas in shampoo, a hint of vomit smell remained. She put them to soak again in the bathroom sink and sat on the bed. Back in April, Doug had arranged their twenty-fifth anniversary trip that would end day after tomorrow, on Sunday, the last day of July. They visited Victoria, Butchart Gardens, Vancouver, Sitka, and Juneau—all in eight days—and he scheduled their whale-watching trip for tomorrow at 8 a.m. aboard a boat named JAZ, a fifty-six foot aluminum tour boat that carried twenty-six passengers and a zodiac tender for occasional close-up encounters.
“I tried their Wi-Fi. They have a shitty satellite service—takes forever.” “Sorry. I guess we could have stayed in Juneau.” “No, we couldn’t have. We wouldn’t get here for the 8 a.m. tour unless we took a high- priced private plane at 6 a.m. The trip is expensive enough without that. I’ve got this planned and we’re on a schedule, remember?” “You’re always on a schedule—after all, we are on vacation. Why can’t you relax?” “Look, I don’t need your constant harping. I arranged this trip so we could see the most in the least time. I did that for you. We hadn’t seen Alaska before. Now we have.” “They have an early buffet at the restaurant at 6 a.m. We can have a nice breakfast before we get on the boat.”
Laura put her hands on her stomach and imagined their return to Seattle, where she managed their home and Doug worked long hours at Boeing as a lead engineer. Their last travel was five years ago to San Diego for a conference. She stood, turned her back to Doug, and looked out the window. Doug tossed his cell phone on the bed. “I can’t believe they
“Is the buffet table covered? People sneeze and cough, you know.” “Yes, I looked in there. They have glass over most of the food area.” “Can we order from the menu?” 5
“No, just the buffet for breakfast. We could order big dinners and box up the extra food for tomorrow—would you like that?”
* * * Laura preferred to stay at home, tending the house and making sure Doug’s dinner was ready at 7 p.m. each night. Things were easier that way. Doug ate a lot, and Laura sat with him and kept his plate full. He often drummed his left-hand fingers on the table while eating with his right hand, a habit that often gave Laura a sour taste in her mouth. He was a large man, about six feet four and two hundred-fifty pounds. His flinty gray eyes and gray eyebrows sat high over a square face and raised chin. He kept his graying brown hair short by having it cut every two weeks, on Thursdays. His breakfast was always the same: toast, coffee, two eggs over easy, but not runny, and two strips of crisp bacon. God help her if the bacon wasn’t crisp enough.
“Sure. That would be better than eating peoples’ germs.” He turned and reached into his suitcase. “By the way, I bought you a couple of things in Juneau. Here’s a nice rain hat. It’s attractive, folds up small, and it floats. I hope you like white. You might need it tomorrow.” “Thank you.” She reached into her purse. “I got you something too. I know you like money clips. This one is silver and was made by a Tlingit craftsman. There’s a whale carved on it.” He took several hundred dollars from his pocket and folded the money into the clip. “Yes, I do like it. Thanks. I got you something else.” He dug into his pocket. “It’s a friendship ring—silver with a golden rose stone for our anniversary year. I’m told the stone is rutile quartz.”
She loved having the whole day to herself. After he left she washed dishes and took a bath. Then she sat in front of her vanity and did her eye makeup, usually with pale blue, green, or purple tones, all colors that complemented her hazel eyes and soft tawny hair that she kept curled and cut to shoulder length. Her cheeks and lips were pink, plump, and healthy, making her appear younger than her forty-seven years. The day was hers. Because she loved to read, because she loved the quiet, because she loved to watch the birds, and because she loved to imagine things, she found relief from her compelling thought that she should be somewhere else. Both daughters, Alyce and Nancy, had married soon after graduation from high school, and both
Laura tried it on her right ring finger. It was too small. “Oh, I guess I can get it resized when we get home. It’s beautiful, Doug.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, and happy anniversary.” “Sorry. The jeweler said this would probably fit. Tell him I’m disappointed when you take it in. He shouldn’t charge anything.” He handed Laura the jewelry store card. “It’s not a problem. It is very thoughtful.”
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had careers and no children, so the household was empty of children, grandchildren, and pets; except that Doug did allow Laura to have one cat if she made sure there was no visible cat hair on the furniture, that the litter box was kept clean, and that the cat stayed off the bed.
like. Our crewmembers are naturalists, so you can ask any one of them about the whales.” JAZ got underway, headed out from the Bartlett Cove public dock at Glacier Bay Lodge, and into the Icy Strait, north of Chichagof Island. They passed Lemesurier Island on the east and headed toward Point Adolphus. A crewmember pointed to the south. “Okay, keep your eyes peeled for blows. There are usually whales between here and the Point.”
Two weeks ago, Alyce, now twenty-four, stopped by the house after work. “Mom, I don’t understand. Why don’t you join a sewing club or a book club? You seem so lonely.” “Well, I’m not. I like the quiet. Please take good care of Missy while we’re gone, and change the litter box on Sunday before we get back. Your father has been looking forward to this trip for months.”
“There’s a blow!” someone shouted and pointed southeast. “Another one!” A crewmember checked with his binoculars. “Still a couple of miles away.” The boat slowed, and soon there were four blows about two hundred meters apart out ahead. They continued underway until the whales were about three hundred meters away and then slowed to a stop, turned off the motor, and began drifting with a gentle breeze and slight current. The glassy sea was nearly dead calm.
“What about you?” “I can’t believe it has been twenty-five years. The trip may give us a chance to reconnect, you know?” “Reconnect to what?” * * *
Laura stood outside on the deck, hugged her shoulders, rubbed her arms, and frowned. Her forearms were both sore from the rough sex the night before when Doug kept her pinned down until she cried and finally squirmed loose. “Why do you have to do that? Now my arms will be bruised and sore for a week. You ruin everything.”
They boarded JAZ at 8 a.m. sharp. The motor idled as the captain went over the safety measures and fitted each person with a life jacket. The diesel smell made her stomach queasy. “Each jacket has a number, and that jacket is yours until we come back. You can take it off when you are inside the cabin, but you have to wear it when you are out on the deck or in the zodiac. You will be able to see just fine from inside, so you can find a seat and stay inside if you would
“You know it turns me on. Didn’t mean to be so rough.”
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“You’re stronger than you think. Let me up. I need to take a shower.”
Doug stepped back and took a deep breath. “No, it’s better that we’re alone. I’m going inside. I need to help someone.”
“You just had one.” “I need another one.”
Laura turned and watched as Doug pushed a wheelchair and a brown-haired woman over next to a table, and then helped her move out of the wheelchair an onto a bench. Laura felt a warmth in her chest as she remembered how Doug had spent endless Sundays helping his mother through her nursing home days and time in hospice.
Standing near the railing, she lowered her hands and felt the soft cloth belt around her waist. She wasn’t sure why—perhaps to secretly get back at him—but early in the morning she had taken Doug’s money belt from the lining of his suitcase and wrapped it tightly around her waist. She would have to get it back to his hiding place before he noticed it was missing or there would be big trouble. In a way she felt giddy, as her hands caressed the belt of smooth cloth against her skin. It was under her rain pants, just above the hip-hugger green panties he liked for her to wear. The belt was thick with hundred-dollar bills—Likely about twenty-thousand dollars, she thought.
She pulled her new rain hat down on her forehead to keep the sun out of her eyes, turning to a crewmember. “What is that whale doing over there?” “Getting ready to dive. Keep an eye out and you’ll see his fluke, his tail—looks like he’s waving it. Wow, they’re coming closer. I’ll put out the hydrophone so we can listen.” He dropped the microphone over the side and adjusted the speakers on the back of the cabin. Soon there were sounds everywhere—deep throated growls, high-pitched squeals, and sing-song rhythmic sounds.
Doug came up behind her and put his arms around her arms. “Having a good time?” “Oh yes, it’s a beautiful day—white clouds, blue-green water, the sun—it’s perfect.”
“Okay, now watch. He’s going to dive.”
She leaned back, and he leaned down and murmured in her ear. “Twenty-five years. Quite a life, don’t you think?” Laura leaned forward and raised her hand to her nose. Doug’s English Leather was too strong
“Amazing. That’s beautiful.” “Every tail is different. Most all the humpback whales have been identified by their flukes. We have a book inside with most all their photographs. Hey, look over there—a calf.” He focused his binoculars. “Probably eight or nine months old, a female I think. I’ll bet she’s still nursing.
“I wish Alyce and Nancy were here, don’t you? They’d love it.” 8
Did you know they drink more than one hundred pounds of mother’s milk a day? I’m guessing she’ll be weaned soon.”
undulating whales, there was a deep rumble and then a high-pitched scream on the hydrophone, and a huge whale breached just ten meters away. The whale’s eye focused on her eyes for two long seconds—a penetrating stare that made her knees wobbly. He twisted and landed on his back, making a huge splash, spraying water in her face that tasted salty and smelled of seaweed. Laura stumbled back a step.
The sounds from the speakers intensified, and most of the people came out on the deck. The whales were coming closer—now a dozen or so. One breached, another slapped its fin, and another slapped its fluke. “Quite a show, don’t you think?” the crewmember asked.
“That was a large female—maybe thirty-eight tons—hold onto the rails,” the captain shouted. “Don’t worry, this boat is safe and seaworthy.” The wave from the splash rocked the boat side to side.
Laura’s mouth formed a slow smile. “It’s beautiful. Oh, look, they are coming even closer.” The captain came out to the deck. “This is remarkable. Get your cameras out. They are coming closer than I’ve seen. Oh, now and then one will come alongside the boat, and I’ve seen a female hide under the boat to avoid an aggressive male, but never this. We are being surrounded. Don’t worry. They’re playing with us.”
Weeping, shaking, and gasping for breath, Laura felt someone take her arm. “Better get inside,” Doug said. “This is dangerous.” He pulled her inside and sat her down by the window. She raised her eyes to him. “Do you see them, Doug? Do you see them? Please see them. Oh my God, they’re so free.”
Laura leaned onto the rail, her palms pressed to her heart. Her skin tingled like she was all at once covered with sparkling water drops, flashing sunlight, misty spray from blows, whale music on the hydrophone, and the sharp sound of slapping pectoral fins and flukes. Less than twenty five meters away a dozen whales, each over forty feet long and at least thirty-five tons, were swimming slowly around the boat in a continuous large circle, as if they were joined head to tail—over four-hundred tons of living, glistening flesh surrounding the boat. Suddenly from the wall of
Doug’s face turned red and he glared at her. “Of course I see them. I’m not blind. Mother Nature is powerful and mean—you have to be careful.” Slowly the whales peeled off from their circle and moved away, all except the mother with her calf. They lingered while the calf nursed in the safety of the shadow of the boat. The hydrophone became quiet and the boat stopped rocking. Everyone moved out on the deck and began talking about the photos they had taken and the awesome whales. The captain took off his cap and shook his 9
head. “In thirty years of whale watching, I’ve never seen anything like it. Remember today, the day that whales surrounded the boat—a lifetime memory—you’ll never see it again.”
Doug went inside, talked with the captain, and returned. “The captain said it will be okay but it will cost an extra fifty dollars. Sounds like a lot, especially since we paid two hundred dollars each for the trip.”
Laura stood by the rail and watched as the whale and her calf floated near the surface and began slowly drifting away. She turned to a crewmember. “Your name’s Paul, right?”
“Oh, come on Doug. What’s fifty dollars for a twenty-fifth anniversary trip?” “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He walked back into the cabin, took out his new money clip, and gave the captain fifty dollars.
“Yes, ma’am.” “Can you take passengers in the small boat to watch up close?” He pointed. “You mean the zodiac?”
The deckhands dropped the zodiac off the back and Doug helped Laura get in. They took a radio, water, flares, extra life jackets, and a canned air horn. Paul cast off the lines and drove slowly away from the boat. “Sit here by me so we can hear each other.” He stood up for a moment. “They’re about one hundred meters ahead over that way.”
“Yes, I guess so.” “We can, but we hadn’t planned to.” Laura stood next to him, her legs shaking, and pressed two-hundred dollars into his hand out of sight of everyone. He smiled at her. “I’ll see what I can do.”
They caught up to the mother whale and her calf and shut off the engine. Paul motioned. “I don’t want to get much closer. These will be good pictures.”
Laura stepped close to Doug with her camera in her hand. “Paul said he could take me out in the small boat to get some close-up pictures of the mother with her calf. He said it is safe. The water is calm and the weather is good. Will that be all right with you?”
Laura stood up and took a dozen or so photos as they drifted by the baby and its mother. A gentle breeze rocked the zodiac. “This is so beautiful. Can I ask you something?”
“I don’t know.” His jaw clenched. “Makes me uncomfortable.”
“Sure.”
“Oh, Doug, be a good sport. It will only be for a little while.”
“How far is the closest town?”
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“You mean from here? Well that would be Hoonah, around the Point Adolphus corner, over there about twenty miles.”
“I don’t want you to get fired, so tell them that I insisted you bring me here. When they ask why, tell them that those whales are so free I couldn’t stand it.”
“How long would it take to get there?”
“Oh, maybe an hour.”
“Does Hoonah have transportation out of there?”
“Hoonah has a seaplane base. That’s how most people travel.”
Laura handed him five-hundred dollars. “Will you take me there?”
“Gosh, I could get in real trouble…”
Laura handed him another five hundred dollars.
“Okay, ma’am, sit down and hold on. We have to hurry.”
Paul throttled up to full speed. As they bounced along, Laura threw her hat overboard, put her hair up in a ponytail, moved close to Paul and held onto his arm.
Paul pulled up to the Hoonah Seaplane Base about forty-five minutes later, and Laura got out, wet and shaky. She steadied herself on the dock and took a deep breath that smelled of wet cedar and fresh air. “Hey, thanks. Here’s your life jacket.”
“What shall I tell them back on the boat?”
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interrupted him from any further nerding out.
“I don’t need a receipt.” She exited the store while looking at a text from Leo.
Dinner tonight at 7 at the Mercer Hotel. We’ll discuss the statement more then. Luv u Mom xoxo
UNCONDITIONAL
Lucy picked off her few remaining natural lashes. She tried to type out a response but put her phone back into her bag.
Kate St. Germain “Lucy Lovington. Lovington, a-are you related to Leo?” The pharmacy clerk met Lucy’s eyes for the first time during their transaction and picked up a magazine with a picture of her son, Leo, on the cover. He was placed above a promised tell-all on a custody agreement between two celebrities who looked like children themselves.
Lucy sat down on a bench in front of the pharmacy to apply the fake eyelashes. It was a struggle to get them to stick. She remembered waking up with eyelashes on her pillow and a head full of cringes, but she couldn’t remember how she ever applied them. Today she needed them as she had gone on a particularly brutal lash-picking spree on the three-hour bus ride to New York City from her home in Woodstock.
Leo, 6'4", with a chiseled frame and his long locks tied up into a bun, walked beside his girlfriend Valencia. Valencia was an Argentinian-born beauty with long, blonde hair and her body in a consistent corset shape. They were a true Barbie dream house couple. Valencia was wearing an unflattering white tee shirt, and the caption of the article had an arrow pointing to her nonexistent baby bump that said BABY ON THE WAY?
Lucy walked the three blocks to her sister Grace’s brownstone. A mom walked past Lucy with a teeny baby in a sling. She longed for Leo to be that small again. She longed for a do-over. Lucy paused for a moment before ringing the bell. She shuddered as she looked across the street at Milady’s, shocked that the rundown dive bar was still open in this increasingly gentrified area. She and Grace drank there, when Grace would still drink with her. Later, when she was spiraling, she would stop into Milady’s after visitations with Leo. Her son had lived with Grace, before Grace had
“No, no relation, and I’m fine without a bag,” she said, taking the fake eyelashes from the clerk. “That guy’s a hack anyway. His interpretation of Wonderman is totally at odds with what Stan Lee intended. He doesn’t even have the same—” Lucy 12
children of her own, while Lucy was drinking and in and out of treatment.
can’t handle too much spice… Okay, let me talk to him.”
“Sister!” Grace promptly answered the door. “Come in, it’s dreaaaaadful outside.” Lucy rolled her eyes at the hint of a British accent in her sister’s voice that she just “picked up” from her British husband. She let it go. She could not have that argument again.
Lucy looked down at her phone to see another text from Leo, even though she had not responded to the first. Mom what was the name of the essential oil that I liked in London? The one at the hotel is making me feel nauseous. [pukey emoji]
Lucy scrunched her body sideways as Grace tried to give her a bear hug. She took Lucy’s weekend bag from her and placed it underneath the coat rack in the immaculately decorated house.
How could Leo be thinking about anything but Alika? For Lucy there were no other thoughts. She remembered that trip to London, when Leo was doing re-shoots for Wonderman. She flew there to visit him for a week. In the mornings they would do yoga with Leo’s private teacher. One morning, Lucy was late and walked into the room to find the yoga teacher backed against a wall-and Leo was standing there, just talking. But she was made immobile by his presence, and Lucy couldn’t deny that she recognized the look in her eyes. She ignored it then.
“Are you hungry? I ordered lunch. And thirsty, you must be thirsty, it’s a million degrees out there.” Grace’s heels clomped down the hall into the kitchen, Lucy following her and sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. Grace gave Lucy her favorite unsweetened, iced green tea and got herself a can of Diet Coke. “Thanks.” Lucy took a gulp, parched from the walk over. She reached to pluck out her now fake eyelashes but sat on her hand before she could.
Lucy was distracted by Grace’s baby voice talking to Carver on the phone.
“Where is everyone? It’s eerily quiet.”
“Hello, angel, how are you? Did you see Emerson or BU today?… Uh-huh… What did you think…? Well, you aced pre-calc so that shouldn’t be an issue. Let me get off the phone, your Aunt Lucy is here.”
“Well, Karl is—oh, speaking of Karl…” Grace’s phone rang, her ringtone the sounds of Tibetan bowls being struck. “Hi, honey. What’s up?” Grace spoke into the phone.
Lucy mouthed it’s fine to her sister.
“Did he use his inhaler? It’s probably just his reflux. Did you guys eat Thai food… How spicy?... SPICY… Well, why didn’t you tell the server just a little spicy, Carver
“Okay, sweetie, I love you. Love to Dad.” “Are they on college tours? Grace, he’s fourteen!” Lucy said. 13
like you did.” Lucy regretted the comment as it left her mouth; she was eager not to be catty with her sister.
“I know he’s fourteen but he’s ambitious. Besides, it’s good for him and Karl to bond. Karl went to Emerson. He’s on the board—”
Thankfully Grace ignored her. “Oh! Leo was on Fresh Air this morning promoting Wonderman. I think Terry Gross has a little crush on him.”
“I’m aware.” Lucy cut her sister off short. “What about Joan, where is she? I thought she was grounded?” Lucy asked.
Lucy dipped a piece of bread into olive oil. It felt like razor blades going down her throat.
Grace pulled out a bowl of pesto chicken salad from the fridge. “She’s at a poetry reading with some of her friends. I let her go because she agreed to go to summer school to make up for that algebra class she failed. Actually, I’ve been texting her but she hasn’t been responding.” Grace looked down at her phone.
“Yeah, I have to listen.” She was usually an avid consumer of her son’s contributions to pop culture, but since the phone call she had been trying to ignore Leo’s presence in the collective consciousness. It was a difficult task because he was everywhere. The third installment of Wonderman would open that weekend.
“I’m sure she’s fine.” Lucy tried to placate her sister.
“Well, I can’t wait to see him.” Grace forked a bite of pasta and chicken into her mouth. “Is he just in New York to do press for the movie?”
Grace served her some salad. She cut crusty French bread for them to dip in the olive oil and salt and pepper that she had prepared.
“Yes, and he’s in talks for a play adaptation.” Lucy made herself take a bite of the pasta salad. She felt it sink down to her empty stomach and settle uncomfortably.
Lucy saw the frustration in her sister’s eyes. “She’ll be all right, you know. She’s just young.” “I know.” Grace ignored the carefully cut pieces and shoved a piece of bare bread into her mouth. “I’d be fine with waiting out this rebellion process if I knew she was going to start taking life seriously eventually, some kind of guarantee from her. That this will stop in maybe, I don’t know, six months to a year.”
“He didn’t tell me that he’s doing a play! Fantastic, he’ll be in New York more. Which play is it?” Lucy was happy to know something about her son that Grace didn’t. “It’s a theatrical adaptation of Cujo.” Lucy awaited her sister’s reaction.
Lucy tried to not visibly roll her eyes. “Not everyone gets into Columbia at sixteen 14
Grace tilted her head sideways, confused. “Cujo? With the killer dog? They’re making it into a play?”
Grace continued, “I haven’t seen you do that since…” Lucy looked up at her sister and motioned for her to stop.
Lucy nodded. Grace sat up. “Are they going to have a real dog?”
“What’s going on?” ***
“Yep. It’s just Leo and the dog on stage the whole time. It’s a one-man show.”
“When did you find out about this?” Grace paced back and forth in the large sitting room, tall cedar bookshelves lining the walls.
Grace nearly spit out her Diet Coke in laughter, and Lucy couldn’t help but follow suit. “Well, I’m glad fame has not interfered with my nephew’s taste level.”
“I don’t know. A few days ago, it’s all been a blur.” Lucy tensed up on the couch with her arms crossed.
Lucy stopped laughing. “Hey! I had to sit through Joan’s Kate Bush cover band three times last year.”
Grace sat next to Lucy and put a lithe arm around her shoulder. “Tell me exactly what he said.”
“They were a little bit good!” Grace retorted.
Lucy wriggled free. “Leo called me and said that his agent got a tip that a woman was about to publish an article accusing him of…” Lucy paused, choosing her words carefully. “Accusing Leo of pressuring her into a sexual encounter.”
Lucy continued laughing. “No one trying to imitate Kate Bush sounds good. Kate Bush imitating Kate Bush hardly sounds good.”
“A sexual encounter? What does that mean?”
As Lucy began laughing again, she thrust her head forward, and a fake eyelash fell to the floor, leaving her bare eyelids exposed.
“I didn’t get into the nitty-gritty of my son having sex, Grace. Apparently she had a small part in the first Wonderman movie. She’s saying that she felt forced to have sex with him, that her job would be threatened if she didn’t.”
Grace looked at her sister, concerned. “Are you pulling out your eyelashes again?” Lucy tried to appear casual. “Yeah, well, you know, old habits die hard…”
“What’s her name?” “It’s Alika Greene.”
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Grace walked over to the kitchen and grabbed her MacBook from the counter.
“They’re worried they’re going to have to pull the movie because of the negative attention, that theaters won’t release it and all the endorsements will drop out.”
“Okay, she did a bunch of Disney shows as a kid, it doesn’t look like she’s worked much since the Wonderman part, she’s spent a lot of time in and out of rehabs…”
“Jesus Christ.” Grace pursed her lips. “I mean it’s so obvious what she’s after…”
“Well, what’s that got to do with it?”
“What do you mean, what she’s after? She’s not looking for money.”
Grace looked up from the computer. “Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”
“Okay, well, if not money, she wants attention. Look at the timing!”
Grace continued looking at her computer. She turned the screen to face Lucy, showing her a photo of Leo with Alika.
Lucy fiddled with her lashes again. “He wants me to sign off on a statement of character, one that goes into the…complicated years.” Lucy’s empty stomach gnawed at her flesh. “How hard he had it and how far he’s come now.”
“They look pretty happy here,” Grace said. As if the photo of them walking, with tall coffees and tiny dogs, could be used as photographic evidence of Leo’s innocence.
“That could work.” Grace nodded approvingly. “A testimony from a loving mother could appeal to people on an empathetic level. When are you going to sign it?”
Lucy looked away. “I’ve already seen all of the photos.” “He denies any of it, right?”
Lucy stood up and turned away from Grace, looking at the pictures on Grace’s piano. There was a picture of Lucy and Leo. Lucy couldn’t remember their exact ages but she remembered the day. Leo was still living with Grace, and Grace had taken him to have a picnic in Central Park to see his mother. Leo was giggling, some kind of saccharine blue ice cream all over his face, and Lucy was laughing along with him. Lucy remembered the reality of that day, though. She kept trying to enjoy her time with her son, but really she couldn’t wait for Grace to take him home. She wanted her son to go away so that she could drink.
“Of course he denies any of it. He says he couldn’t have even fired anyone on the set of the first Wonderman. I mean, he really was just starting out himself, right? He wouldn’t have…” “Right, yes! Absolutely!” Grace sat down next to her sister and attempted to put her hand on her back. Lucy stood up and walked back and forth on the Turkish rug that they had purchased on a family trip to Istanbul, paid for by Leo, on the press tour for the second Wonderman movie a few years back.
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Lucy remained standing away from her sister. “It’s not the first time it’s happened.”
“Okay, you spoiled him. But Lucy, come on, you could have—” “I know, I know. I could have prevented this. And now what do I do? Do I sign this fucking statement and let this problem get bigger, or do I let him learn a lesson?”
Grace paused. She pulled at the sharp edges of her sensible bob. “What do you mean it’s not the first time?”
Grace paused for a moment.
Lucy sat back on the couch. “When Leo was in high school, his drama teacher took me aside and said that he was being inappropriate with some of the girls in his cast.”
“Look, Lucy, and I’m not trying to downplay this, but come on. A lesson? What he did when he was fourteen was kid stuff. I mean, I wouldn’t want to know what goes through Carver’s mind. I think right now we’re all hypersensitive toward this stuff, and we’re going to see things differently in a few years.”
“Inappropriate how? Was he aggressive with them?” “Apparently…” Lucy’s words stubbornly stuck inside her mouth. Uttering them felt like a betrayal of her son. A betrayal of herself.
Lucy looked at Grace. “What about Anton?” Lucy thought of Anton’s face, how it had changed in her mind throughout the years. He was just another professor at first, an old man. But he worshipped her, pursued her relentlessly until he became as perfect to Lucy as she was to him. Or was it just that she loved the way he saw her? And then, when he took away that admiration, it drove her to need something else.
“Apparently he would rub himself on the girls in the dark while they were waiting in the wings to enter the stage. She had complaints from two girls.” “Okay,” Grace said flatly. “So what did Leo say about it?” Lucy shook her head. “I never talked to him about it.”
“What about Anton?” Grace looked confused. “What does that scumbag have to do with anything?”
“You never… Why would you never talk to him about it?” Grace exclaimed.
“You don’t see that situation differently now? You’re a professor yourself!”
“You don’t know what it’s like, Grace. You have your perfect kids, perfect life, perfect house. I was gone for ten years of his life, totally absent. When I got him back, I didn’t want to disrupt our relationship, it was all so fragile.”
“To me he was an asshole to you and to Leo, may he rest in agony,” Grace said.
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“I was so young, Grace.”
stairs, a teenage boy standing next to her scrolling on his phone.
“Lucy, you were twenty-three, you were a graduate student. It’s hardly pedophilia what he did.”
“Joan, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Grace rushed to her daughter’s side. “Mommy, my heart is racing! I think I’m having a heart attack,” Joan exclaimed.
“I’m not saying it was pedophilia but an abuse of power. He was my professor, I felt like I didn’t have a choice. I felt like what Alika Greene is…”
“I thought you were at the poetry reading,” Grace said, sitting beside her daughter.
“Lucy, don’t compare your son to his father.”
The boy laughed. He crossed his arms and leaned against the bannister. “Hah-nah, we were at Mambo’s place.”
Lucy stared off. “Maybe now he can see how to respect women in a way that I never taught him.”
“Who the hell is Mambo?” Grace exclaimed, trying to peek into Joan’s hand fortress as Joan swatted her away.
“Honestly, Lucy, you’re pissing me off. I was there all the years that you weren’t. I never saw anything like the things you’re talking about. He isn’t a monster…”
Lucy took the boy into the living room while Grace rubbed Joan’s back. “What did you guys take, really?” Lucy whispered.
“I know! I know, he’s my baby.” Lucy put her hands in her face, wishing that she was a person who could cry right now.
“Just weed! I swear! Honestly, that girl really can’t hang,” the boy said loudly whilst chewing on a straw.
“Lucy, if you don’t take a stand for your son here, there’s no going back. Not for your relationship, not for our family. For fuck’s sake, Lucy, this is unconditional love.”
“Okay, let me see you out.” Lucy led the boy through the foyer and out the door. Joan looked up from the ground as Lucy approached them.
“But what about Alika?” Grace sat next to Lucy and brushed her hair to the side. “She’s not your daughter.”
“What if I’m dying? What if this is the last day of my life? Oh my God, did David leave?! Now he’ll never ask me to his July Fourth party.”
Lucy and Grace heard the front door slam shut.
Lucy smiled and turned to her sister. “She’ll be fine, she’s just having a panic attack. Go into the kitchen and get her some water.”
The two women went into the foyer to see Joan rocking back and forth on the
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Lucy sat down next to Joan. “Honey, do you want to do some sun salutations? Maybe that would calm you down a little.”
Grace ran into the hallway bathroom and audibly vomited into the toilet.
“No! I don’t want to do any fucking sun salutations! I just want this to be over!” Joan exclaimed, tears streaming down her face.
“Did you guys know about this! Jesus Christ, that’s so fucked up!” Joan ran up the stairs and slammed her door loudly enough that Lucy felt the bannister shake.
Panic attack or not, Lucy thought, she was still a little cunt.
Lucy, having run out of eyelashes to pluck, moved up to her eyebrows. She sat for a moment on the stairs and plucked at a particularly long hair. She got a gross satisfaction at seeing the white root at the tip.
“It will, it will. Just take three deep breaths.” Joan breathed deeply and the crying subsided by the third breath. Grace came back from the kitchen, placing a mason jar of water beside them.
Lucy went into the kitchen to get her phone. She glanced at it; a multitude of messages, news alerts, and missed calls. But her eyes blurred and she was unable to see any of it. She put her phone face-down on the counter but grabbed her wallet. She made her way through the foyer, out the door, and walked across the street to Milady’s.
Joan’s phone dinged and she looked at the screen. “Wait until you’ve calmed down to get on your phone,” Lucy said to her niece but Joan ignored her. “Holy shit.” Joan’s face went pale.
Lucy needed to be out of that house to think about what it meant to be loved and to love, unconditionally.
Lucy knew. She just knew what was coming. “I just got a news alert. Leo’s been accused of rape.”
Grace spoke first. “Oh my God, Alika Greene accused him of rape?”
Joan scrolled down on her phone, skimming the article. “What? No. A woman named Rae Mavis.”
Joan looked up fearfully. “Who’s Alika Greene?”
19
Later, suck twang, suck twang. The machine, electronic heart,
resurrecting her,
Thanksgiving at Mass General
metal key spinning,
Ellen Stone
Black blood tubes.
Snow sugars the window.
The coffee line is long and full.
Young nurse pads in to check.
Chocolate-gloved women share
Outside, white until just
pumpkin recipes. I am reading
the outlines remain.
House Beautiful. Want to decorate
Sleeping, she is basting a golden
in shades of winter, cranberries
bird. Bread rising, smell of sage
scattered everywhere, spare
on her hands. Her clear mind
as broken strands of beads.
whole, like a round clean onion.
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absence of sound, after tires crunch and whirr off the gravel drive like wings
when nothing is left. You settle in, then
Despair
like hornets in the eaves, cleaving onto
Ellen Stone
empty, a repository burgeoning again
cells made of cinders, but blossoming
You are like dust
into something like home, a roundness
settling near the fireplace, born
made whole by the angry industry
of ash, or all that lingers after fire,
of insects. Honed. Blades of daylight
Wood smoke hanging in the air
stabbed through cloud. Buzz
mingling in my skin and hair.
inside the nest, a choir of resonance
I eat you, hoping a mound of sweet
gathering into swell. Drowning
will fill me, the cream curling
out the sun & sky. Horizon heavy,
around this stark room
your bulk ballooning, chimney
knowing you live in me still
shadowed while smoke rises
hot blush of skin when glass shatters
one more time.
suddenly, or red words rise through the night air, or worse, 21
The cat & the river Ellen Stone I am the striped woman
lynx eyes curving
winter slat sun
across blue fur
full of uncertainty
wings shadowing
the back door
the dog stares
gaze full of hickory
deep as a bear’s den
here in my lair
neurons firing
dull as clay pigeons
I can sit in the dark
quiet as a broody hen
but my mother’s brain
unending loops
of quasi hemispheres
colliding circles
running nowhere
a temporary river
absent delta
filtering
the leftover silt
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EMILY AS A SOUTHERN GOTHIC HOUSE Darren Demaree Just by looking at her you know the ghosts have stuck around for a really good reason. The wind that makes it through the broken glass never seems to leave. I suppose if you’re interested I have to tell you about the bodies we couldn’t take with us from our basement times.
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EMILY AS THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA Darren Demaree I made it to her in defiance of my own body I made it here. If you’re expecting a second act, another breath deep enough to allow me to core her existence, then you’ve never given up your own moon to be crushed by another’s tide.
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EMILY AS HER NIPPLES SWELL Darren Demaree The anticipation of motherhood always hurts.
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Contributor's Notes Mark Conkling, Ph.D., is a New Mexico author from Rio Rancho. He is a former University Professor (Philosophy, Psychology), a retired Methodist minister, and now works as a Medical Practice Manager. Mark Conkling’s “Blues” novels explore ways that spiritual forces found in nature and in other people can transform broken lives. Prairie Dog Blues (2011), Dog Shelter Blues (2012), Killer Whale Blues (2014), and now Honey Bee Blues (2017) a ll show how hope and love can heal our deepest wounds. In addition to the four novels in the “Blues” series, he is the author of articles in scholarly journals years ago and writes contemporary short stories available at www.markconklingauthor.com. Darren C. Demaree is the author of ten poetry collections, most recently “Lady, You Shot Me”, which was published by 8th House Publishing. He is the recipient of a 2018 Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award, the Louis Bogan Award from Trio House Press, and the Nancy Dew Taylor Award from Emrys Journal. He is the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology a nd Ovenbird Poetry. He is currently living in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children. Kate St. Germain is an American writer and teacher. Kate lived throughout Asia for the past six years where she taught English as a second language. She currently resides in Massachusetts with her Taiwanese puppy Francis where she continues to teach and write. Ellen Stone’s poems have appeared in Passages North, The Collagist, The Museum of Americana, a nd Fifth Wednesday among other places. She is the author of The Solid Living World (Michigan Writers’ Cooperative Press, 2013). Ellen’s poems have been nominated multiple times for the Pushcart prize and Best of the Net.
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