“I sat by the lake in the morning, eventually meandering through the city to a bakery and buying a loaf of good bread for my friend. Still self-consciously on vacation, determined to have a good time, pretending I was in Europe, I sat down at one of the bakery’s long wooden tables with an espresso, a croissant and Charles Bowden.”
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“You tell yourself he must be kidding, and eventually you learn to just shake your head—a tick to shrug off his inconsistencies. You tell yourself you will remain important to him. He can’t let you go.
These are the lies that keep you.”
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“Busan, this vital port city of four million of working-class grit was transforming into a posh metropolis with glass apartment towers eighty floors above the marina below. A welcoming Seoul by the sea on the southeast coast.”
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“Joe. I met him at the end of the 1970s, under 57th Street, at a gay dance club, Ice Palace. He lied about his age to almost everyone, as far as I know, saying he was 18 in the period before the legal age for drinking was raised to 21. In truth, he was 16, but looked older. Whatever that means.”
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“It was customary to serve the men. Young girls learned the skills of homemaking before learning to read. They were very principled and unwavering in their conviction.”
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“I hate pastor-led funerals. Why can’t I tell us about you, myself? I have better words for you than he ever will. I knew you. I have many memories of you…I’m sure of it.”
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“In an alternate timeline, I get to meet my father. I listen to his voice, his laugh, watch how he moves through the world. He meets my sons. I meet all of my siblings and hear family stories. I am welcomed home.”
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