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She stood up. “Excuse me for interrupting,” she said to the minister, “but he can’t do that. He’s married to me already. We never really got divorced. I never gave him a divorce. Those are our children sitting there in front of you.” She addressed the bride. “It’s better for you to know now than to find out later.”
By Susan MoonJune 1993Being tied up till eternity through the children, writing to each other in a centrally located spiral notebook, consulting the I Ching
By Our ReadersJune 1993Driving home from work, Bones rehearsed what he’d say when he broke up with Linda. “I got to get out,” he might say. Or, “I’m no good for you.”
By Deborah ShouseOctober 1992I didn’t think I’d hear again from my grandmother’s second husband, Uncle Benny, and then he called one Wednesday afternoon, three years after my grandmother had left him. I was stacking money on my bed at the time — ones on the pillow, fives at the foot, and tens in the middle where I could see them easiest.
By Philip JosephAugust 1992I crashed my bike once. I bought an R75/5 — my first BMW. I was told I had to earn it. I didn’t quite understand at the time.
By Kate GroffFebruary 1992Shifting into gear and ramming a garbage can into the wall, buying a house together, playing apple-war games
By Our ReadersOctober 1991A three-thousand-pound slab, a pair of sunglasses and a book, a sprouting of wings
By Our ReadersMarch 1991A repressed memory, a custody battle, a summer on the prairies
By Our ReadersNovember 1990Ever since the therapist said, “Rebecca, if only you’d let go once in a while, relax, flow, you’d be a lot happier,” I’d been trying to write in the lotus position.
By Deborah ShouseAugust 1989Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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