Hippocampus: Silence, Stillness
My intent was to write about a terrible guy that I dated years ago and somehow, as so often happens, my father snuck in here, too. I wanted to change the name of the creep I dated, so I asked my fiction students what I should call him. They unanimously chose Chad.
This essay was named by Hippocampus as a “most memorable” piece and later anthologized in Five Years of Hippocampus.
This short bit of memoir begins:
“I never say abuse. Instead, I slide into cliché. It was no picnic, I say. Had a rough childhood, but the texture means nothing to anyone else. Rough: my father’s cracked hands, the sound of them dragged across blankets in search of my curled body, hands full of static and intent. Or the burn of a cheek rough without shave: stubble, the texture of apology.”
To read the complete piece, click here.