JUDE WAS MY mother’s boyfriend until he wrecked her Chevy down near the Hare Hole. She made me fetch him and drive him to the hospital, his arm hanging wiry loose from shoulder and moaning in pain. If you give me one kiss, he said, I’ll show you Hades, so I decided I was his. He was the best lover I’ve ever had and he smelled of damp earth and daffodils. On Sundays, we’d drive to Sanunsta, drain a bottle of vodka and taste each other until we were dizzy. Often I thought a storm had passed through us: a wicked hurricane of luscious love and adoration.
Breaking Point: His starry-eyed looks toward space. I have one dream, he’d say, to travel out of here and I don’t need a co-pilot.