People I've Known

Stacey K.:
When I was a kid, Stacey and I lived in a townhouse complex. We played kick-the-can at dusk, rode the rapids of Wyomissing Creek in an innertube, and picked buckets of berries from a farmer's field. Her dad, who later turned out to be her uncle, was the maintenance man at the apartment complex. After four kids, her mother gave her up to her sister to raise. Stacey was 15 when she found out. At sixteen, she applied to become an emancipated minor, had a child, and moved in with her boyfriend in a trailer park outside Sinking Spring. We lost touch. It was for the best.

Cathal:
The hottest Irishman bar none. Red curly hair, vibrant blue blue eyes, and a schlong that wouldn't quit. 24, cultured, compact, athletic, funny as fuck, Cat had it all. I think of him a lot, but usually not in a good way. He went back to Ireland when we broke up.

Paulette:
When I was sixteen, the ever-cheerful Paulette and I worked together at Spencer Gifts. She was the Assistant Manager, I the second assistant. Paulette had two kids, a cheating car salesman husband, and bees in the walls of her ancient rental house in Berks County. She helped me open, even understand my psychic ability. I miss Paulette.

My second grade teacher:
She told me my writing was terrific, put lots of cheery stickers on my papers, and hugged me when the school year was over. I wish I could remember her name.

Pat:
An injured man who collapsed at my feet during the terrorist attacks on 9/11. He couldn't wait to find a phone to call his mother, to let her know he was alive. God bless, Pat. I hope you found a working phone.