—
James Frey, best-selling author of A Million Little Pieces

 

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Being in a new town, and leaving all of my old friends, scared me. I knew I was good at baseball and
basketball, but I worried whether I would still be good in North Andover.
Summer was ending, but I couldn’t complain. We’d had fun times camping in Maine, while my little
brother, Jared, and I got into mischief. My friends from Andover called me and said we should still hang
out, even though we would be in different towns.
The summer came to an end and I was ready for third grade at my new school. Monday arrived and I
looked out the window at the playground and saw all the kids. Living across the street from the school
wasn’t all that bad. I grabbed my bag and kissed my mother and high-fived my dad before walking over to
the school yard. There was a steep hill I slowly ran down, and then I ran across a field of kids kicking a
soccer ball. I aimlessly walked around, checking out the playground, kicking my feet, and watching the
kids play before the bell rang. Our house was so close that I could see my mom staring through the
window at me.
The bell rang as I watched kids line up. We “pledged allegiance” outside and then walked to class. Being
the new kid sucks, I thought, as I sat down next beside a boy named Grant.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Logan,” I said.
“Got a last name?”
“Michaels. My name is Logan Michaels.”
“You play any sports?”
“Yeah, baseball and basketball,” I replied.
“You any good?”
I laughed and said, “Let’s play at recess and find out.”
Recess arrived; we grabbed the basketball immediately and ran over to the hoops. After a couple of shots,
the fifth-graders came over and tried to kick us off the court. Grant and I were not giving up that easily,
though, and we said, “Let’s play for it.”
They laughed as they confidently threw the ball to me.
I caught it and shot. SWISH!! The game started out with two people watching, and by the end of recess,
Grant and I had the whole recess crowd around us cheering. “ICE! ICE! ICE!” the older kids yelled. My
last shot was in the air as everyone was watching: game point and SWISH!
We won by one point, and that day established my new nickname, Ice, because I had taken about twenty
shots and had missed only two. The older kids said that we could play with them anytime, and I became
popular on my first day. I ran home right after school, ready to tell my mom everything.
I walked in the house and saw Jared playing in the kitchen while my mom prepared dinner. The fall air
was warm and crisp, with a sourdough bread smell lingering. I threw my bag down and told my mother
about my day. She smiled and looked content as she continued to cook dinner. My mother would always
smile when she saw me and Jared. We would hang out until dinnertime, and wait for Dad to come home.
We would play video games, run around the house, and play in the yard; we always had so much energy.
My dad would come home, kick off his work boots, kiss my mom, and roughhouse with us. We typically
tackled him as soon as he came through the door. Jared and I would lose to Dad, of course; he seemed
like the strongest guy in the world.
After dinner, we would rush outside to play basketball with our small hoop in the yard until it got dark.
My mom would yell out the window about how we needed to do our homework, and we would come
inside once the sun set.
Realizing that I might have a career in basketball, I had Dad sign me up for the North Andover booster
club team. We walked into tryouts; he was definitely the youngest father in there, being only twenty-eight
years old. Most dads were in their late thirties.
As tryouts began, he introduced himself to the fathers. Everyone made the team, but I guess the tryouts
were to see how they could split up the kids to make fair teams.
After waiting a week for the results, I finally received a call from Mr. Stone, the coach of the Hawks. He
welcomed me onto the team, told me the practice schedule, and said, “See you there, Logan.” I hopped off
the phone and ran into my parents’ room to tell them the good news. I jumped on the bed and then
noticed something strange: my mother was crying and my father was rubbing her back with a worried
look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. My mom hugged me. My brother walked in quietly, looking unsettled as he
hugged my mom and dad.
“It’s my mom, Nana,” she said. “She’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and is very sick.”
“What’s Alzheimer’s?” I asked.
“It makes you forget who you are, Logan.” I was confused, but just hugged my mother back as she wiped
her tears.
We had been a tight-knit family before moving. My mom and dad grew up on the same street and met
when they were children.My grandparents on both sides were always coming over to visit us, and we would go to their houses. We
even went to church with them on Sundays. Jared and I called my mother’s parents “Nana” and “Papa;”
we called my father’s parents “Granpy” and “Grammy.” I was closest to Nana.
Sitting in my room that night, I didn’t know whether I should be excited for basketball season, or sad for
my Nana. It made me understand that pleasure and pain always went hand in hand.
One minute you’re up, and the next, you’re down, I thought as
I shut my eyes.

 

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Now she works for Huxley Marlow of the Marvelous Marlow Boys, getting

shoved in boxes as an on-stage magician’s assistant. A cool job for
some, but Bea’s been coerced into the role to cover her debt. She
also maybe fantasizes about her boss’s adept
hands and what else they can do.

She absolutely will not fall for him, or kiss him senseless. Until she

does. The scarred, enigmatic Huxley has unwittingly become her muse,
unlocking her artistic dry spell, but his vague nightly activities
are highly suspect. The last time Beatrice trusted a man, her bank
account got drained and she almost got arrested. Surely this can’t
end that badly…right?

 

A small-
town girl at heart, Kelly moved from the city to open a cheeseshop with her husband in northern Ontario. When she’s not neck deep
in cheese or out hiking, you can find her, notepad in hand,
scribbling down one of the many plot bunnies bouncing around in her
head. She laughs at her own jokes and has been known to eat her
feelings—gummy bears heal all. She’s also an incurable romantic,
devouring romance novels into the wee hours of the morning.

**Trigger warning: of sexual assault, alcoholism, domestic violence **

Desmond stops to fill up his car at a nearby gas station on Rockville Road. He can’t believe Denise is so inconsiderate of his feelings. “It is like she is married to that damn clothing business!” Desmond spits out to no one in particular.
Just thinking about it makes him want to scream. He is tired of dealing with
Denise’s workaholic mentality, which has been going on since Delilah was in middle school. A
feeling of abandonment starts to set in, and it hurts him.
Denise acts like she is the only person working in our house. Heck, she hasn’t asked me
one thing about work or how my day is going! It’s not easy running my counseling business,
listening to other people’s problems, and helping them, while I can’t fix my own relationship. She
doesn’t care about it, as long as she is on time for her meetings to look at color swatches and
zippers. If only I could get Denise to understand that both Delilah and I need her more at home.
Her absence is tearing our family apart, and she doesn’t see that it’s really affecting her
relationship with Delilah.
Desmond leaves the gas station and jumps on Highway 465, heading north. He takes
the exit for Keystone, heading for the Broad Ripple area, where Desmond’s favorite bar,
Brothers, is. Desmond maneuvers his car into a small parking space on the left side of the bar.
It has been a few years since he’s visited a bar. The thought of solving his problems with
a drink is not normal for Desmond, but this time, he feels one drink and some good television is
in order. He doesn’t have a history of drinking, but his father did, which led to his death several
years ago. His father’s drinking kept him away from home and kept Desmond’s mother in tears.
She wasn’t shocked when she received the call that her husband had passed on. However,Desmond was hurt.
Not having his father in his life makes him sensitive and emotionally attached to the
females in his life. He knows his arguing probably stemmed from his father’s abandonment,
which makes him fight hard to get his wife to change her ways. He doesn’t want Delilah to feel
the same way he did as a teenager.
This usually gets Desmond to stay away from alcohol, but this situation is different. He
motions for the bartender. “Could I get a White Russian?”
“Coming right up,” the bartender nods, pausing to make sure he is of age. A few minutes
later, the bartender returns with the drink, placing it in front of him with a napkin.
Desmond pays, then hesitates before taking a swig of the drink, letting the mixture of
rum and milk slide down his throat. He scans the place, noticing the positive and uplifting
atmosphere, watching a group of college students celebrating someone’s birthday. He moves
out of the way of a tipsy woman heading towards the bathroom.
“Someone has had too much to drink,” he says, allowing the environment, music, and
alcohol to soothe his pain. He engages in small talk with others, finding enjoyment in the
attention he receives. The sun drops, and darkness is near. After hanging out for a couple of
hours, Desmond decides to head home. He leaves the bar, praying that his wife has not left for
Evansville. He doesn’t want to go home to an empty house for the fifteenth time.
Desmond taps the button to the radio, switching to his favorite radio station, 106.7
WTLC. A Marvin Gaye tune, “You’re All I Need to Get By,” serenades him as he drives. “I used
to think that about you, Denise.”
The music continues to relax Desmond, so he cracks the window and the cool breeze
hits his face. The Rockville Road exit is coming up as Desmond signals to switch lanes. After
taking the exit, he stops at the awaiting red light, while singing along off-key to the song. He
hopes Denise is thinking about their family and how important it is to keep them together. The
light changes and Desmond proceeds into the intersection toward his subdivision. He puts his

turn signal on to let the driver behind him know that he is turning into the Chapel Wood division.
Upon turning the corner, Desmond’s car spins, tires screech, and there is the sound of
crushing metal as shattered glass flies into the air. Desmond struggles to breathe. He hears a
woman’s scream nearby as images of his family flash in front of him. He sees Delilah laughing,
throwing lettuce at him during their food fight after her mother stood her up for their girls’ night
out her freshman year of high school. Desmond hears a voice telling him to stay awake, but his
vision is blurry as he struggles to focus on the calming voice.
He closes his eyes for a second, opening them to a vision of Denise preparing for work
as he sits on the side of their bed, admiring her beautiful bronze skin, full lips, and petite frame.
He tries to stretch his arm out to touch her, but the steering wheel is pressing against his chest,
and the front of the car is crushing his legs. Desmond moans in agony, realizing his body won’t
cooperate.
His eyelids are getting heavy again, his body growing tired. He can still hear the voice
telling him to stay awake. Desmond moans, telling the voice he’s too tired. The emergency
response team arrives, going into action. Desmond’s eyes are barely open when he sees
Delilah and Denise blowing him kisses, mouthing the words: I love you. The heaviness of his
eyelids takes over as everything goes black.

 

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