Summer 2023 Issue 22
Summer 2023 Issue 22
Summer 2023 Issue 22
You may be able to guess that this is from my wartime experience. She, Pinky, the woman with whom I had sex … was in some ways just a girl – things were different then and we were all so afraid – and no one, none of us anyway, none of the American soldiers, were allowed to think let alone – let alone anything – we were … we were just there to fight and kill – kill as many living things as possible – plants animals people of all ages and all anything else …
I liked the work; I was good at it. But the company, Cory, getting demoted…I hated this place and the bastards who ran it. But I couldn’t leave. Not with my seven-year-old daughter, Tina, just starting private school. Tina and her mom, Tanya, had me deathly afraid of getting made redundant, for redundancy here meant redundancy there.
It was not uncommon to see complete families piled onto a single motorcycle on the streets of Haiti and not a helmet on anyone. Necessity always trumped safety. Roberson himself had suffered several broken bones and broad patches of road rash when his motorcycle clipped the bumper of a tap-tap taxi several years earlier. Dr. Dean had helped pay for the medical expenses to make sure the bones were set correctly and prevent any long-term disability.
“You know I have cancer,” Dr. Dean said, “but I’m not prepared to die today.”