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Contents ( 81)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for These Nameless Things
  3. Books by Shawn Smucker
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Dedication
  7. Epigraphs
  8. Contents
  9. Anytime to Three Months
  10. I’m Afraid Not
  11. The White-Haired Woman
  12. The Emptiness
  13. Looking for You
  14. Closer Than They Might Appear
  15. The First Drowning
  16. The Tea Party
  17. The Field
  18. My Own Flesh and Blood
  19. Crossing Over
  20. A Place in This World
  21. Leaving
  22. The Man in the Hotel
  23. Driving Away
  24. Gone Again
  25. No Trespassing
  26. Into Nysa
  27. No Cares in the World
  28. You Should Turn Around
  29. When Everything Started Happening
  30. An Unexpected Encounter
  31. Night Swimming
  32. Shirley
  33. The Woman at the Window
  34. What’s Real?
  35. The Question
  36. The End of Me
  37. She Went Under
  38. Desecrated
  39. The Carpet
  40. The Boat
  41. Sinking
  42. The Weight of Memory
  43. Photographs
  44. Was It You?
  45. A Wedding and a Ring
  46. Dreams and Open Windows
  47. New Developments
  48. The Door
  49. Going Under
  50. The Loss of You
  51. The Glassy Sea
  52. Following Her Down
  53. Something Beyond Us
  54. Let’s Not Leave Her Alone Anymore
  55. Too Many Secrets
  56. Heavy Things
  57. She’s Gone
  58. Our Future Spelled Out
  59. Screams at the Cabin
  60. So Close
  61. When You Arrive at the End, Keep Going
  62. It’s True
  63. The Other Side
  64. Reality
  65. Swimming Underwater
  66. Only the Deepest Pools Remain
  67. The Open Window
  68. When I Knew
  69. The Clouds Bear Down
  70. The Far Green Country
  71. Gone
  72. The Fly
  73. The Nesting Doll
  74. Two Months Later
  75. Floating Away
  76. Another mesmerizing story from Shawn Smucker
  77. Prologue
  78. Acknowledgments
  79. About the Author
  80. Back Ads
  81. Back Cover

Dedication

To Maile

Epigraphs

Is there a single person on whom I can press belief? No sir.

All I can do is say, Here’s how it went. Here’s what I saw.

I’ve been there and am going back.

Make of it what you will.

LEIF ENGER, Peace Like a River

Death alone from death can save.

Love is death, and so is brave.

Love can fill the deepest grave.

Love loves on beneath the wave.

GEORGE MACDONALD,
The Light Princess

And, so, there is

the weight of memory

LI-YOUNG LEE,
“The Weight of Sweetness”

Contents

Cover

Praise for These Nameless Things

Books by Shawn Smucker

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Epigraphs

Anytime to Three Months

I’m Afraid Not

The White-Haired Woman

The Emptiness

Looking for You

Closer Than They Might Appear

The First Drowning

The Tea Party

The Field

My Own Flesh and Blood

Crossing Over

A Place in This World

Leaving

The Man in the Hotel

Driving Away

Gone Again

No Trespassing

Into Nysa

No Cares in the World

You Should Turn Around

When Everything Started Happening

An Unexpected Encounter

Night Swimming

Shirley

The Woman at the Window

What’s Real?

The Question

The End of Me

She Went Under

Desecrated

The Carpet

The Boat

Sinking

The Weight of Memory

Photographs

Was It You?

A Wedding and a Ring

Dreams and Open Windows

New Developments

The Door

Going Under

The Loss of You

The Glassy Sea

Following Her Down

Something Beyond Us

Let’s Not Leave Her Alone Anymore

Too Many Secrets

Heavy Things

She’s Gone

Our Future Spelled Out

Screams at the Cabin

So Close

When You Arrive at the End, Keep Going

It’s True

The Other Side

Reality

Swimming Underwater

Only the Deepest Pools Remain

The Open Window

When I Knew

The Clouds Bear Down

The Far Green Country

Gone

The Fly

The Nesting Doll

Two Months Later

Floating Away

Another mesmerizing story from Shawn Smucker

Prologue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Back Ads

Back Cover

Anytime to Three Months

Her words hover in the air, hummingbirds, and I hold my breath, glance up at the clock above the door, and watch the red second hand twitch its way through a minute. I pinch my bottom lip in between my teeth. There is a small piece of paper under her chair, the tiniest corner torn off, left from the previous examination. What news did that patient receive? What diagnosis?

What will I leave behind?

“I’m sorry, Dr. Cortez,” I say. “Can you repeat that?” Each of my blinks is like the shutter on an old camera, holding for an extra moment so that I see the negative of her on the inside of my eyelids. I reach up and rub my eyes. Why do I not feel a deep sadness?

I think it would be appropriate for me to feel a deep sadness.

“Mr. Elias,” she begins again, and her words have a lullaby quality to them, as if she’s explaining a monster to a child, the darkness sleeping under the bed, the movement subtly shifting in the corner of the room after the light turns off.