Lamentation for Junior
A few months after my biological brother’s funeral, my father calls to say my stepbrother just got shot and killed by Milwaukee police. They say they tried to pull him over but he sped off, crashed, fled on foot with a gun in hand. You can imagine the rest. When my stepmother takes the phone,...
The Fist
My mother was leaning against the stove, my father at the table looking through the classifieds. I never saw him buy anything that wasn’t a tool. “My father is welcome in this house, forever! If he wants to come for the weekend, get out of the city and sit in the backyard, he’s coming!” My...
Emergency Room, 1978
Sacked out in the on-call room, I awaken to a strident ring. “You’re the resident on call for ob, right?” a tired voice says through the receiver. “I got a real gusher. Think she’s aborting, but that’s technically still pregnant, so she’s yours.” A bit of the meanness that comes with chronic sleep deprivation remains...
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