Her face is so beautiful that it makes my stomach churn. But he seems unreal, not someone I'd ever meet. But then I look at me, at the me in the photo, and I hardly recognize her either, and not just because the hair is different, but because she looks different. That is not me. That's Lulu. And she is as lost as he is.
Blank slate. That's what the reggae singer said. I may not be able to get my wish, but I can try to wipe the slate clean, try to get over this.
I allow myself to look at the photo of Willem and Lulu in Paris for a long minute.
"Happy New Year," I tell them.
And then I delete them.
Nighteen
JANUARY
Colleague
Two feet of snow falls in Boston while I'm in Mexico, and the temperature never rises above freezing, so when I return two weeks later, the campus looks like a d
