Chapters (55)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Cast of Characters
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Part Two
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- A note on the Author
My mom, I remember, believed in intermarriage. She told me such things from the time I was tiny. Perhaps she was trying to cram in as much as possible, whether or not it was appropriate for a little kid, whether I asked or not, because she knew she wouldn’t be here when it was appropriate. When I was seven I asked her how babies were made. She told me, truthfully, zestfully, as though reciting a wonderful family story she had been aching to repeat. Then she asked if there was anything else I wanted to know. I asked her, “How do lesbians have sex?” And this she told me unabashedly too. “Sex toys” were mentioned as an option and from that day forth I associated lesbianism with theme parks and petting zoos, somewhere fun to visit for a day.
I remembered very clearly that she thought Jews and blacks were a great combination. “Marry out, marry out!” she directed one evening, as she scrubbed me in the bathtub, rubbing soap behind my five-year-old ears.
I loved Sebastian and I loved going to his mother’s house in Jersey. I loved traversing the boardwalk, in the wrong shoes at first, but they became righter and righter the more I walked. After we broke up and he broke down and I broke in two, I would go back and walk. Maybe I was hoping to bump into him. No. I was hoping to bump into his mother. I wanted to tell on him and tell on myself. I did a bad thing, Mrs. Chase. I’m a bad person, Mrs. Chase. Okay, I’m not. I’m glad you said that. It means a lot. Yeah. He’s okay. He’s seeing other people, Mrs. Chase. Oh, he hasn’t told you about them? Then I guess they don’t mean that much, these new girls.
I rode the train to Jersey, to the boardwalk, but I never saw him and I never saw her. I just saw myself. In the sea, in the shopfronts. I saw myself reflected in things that don’t reflect. The wood beneath me, the splinters in my soles bore my face. Discomfort is worse than a wound. At least you know where you are with blood. At least other people can see it.
“You’re looking thin,” said Yetty last time I saw her. I really wasn’t, but I deserved to be: for those last few months, all that I’d lived on was blow jobs and cigarettes. If it had worked for me as it had every other heartbroken girl in New York City, I would have turned my diet into a book and topped the bestseller lists. Yes, you too can achieve your target weight in less than a month, or your money back.