Consent on Campus
This is an long-form journalistic piece I wrote regarding sexual assault on the NAU campus for the NAU newspaper, The Lumberjack. It involved interviews with survivors as well as work with local law enforcement to track active reports (and underreporting) of sexual assault cases.
It was late in the evening Sept. 18, 2015. Sadie Roberts, a freshman at Northern Arizona University (NAU), accompanied a few friends to a pledge party hosted by the fraternity Phi Sigma Kappa at an off-campus fraternity house.
“[The party] was Risky Business-themed,” Roberts said. “You wear a button-up and knee-highs, and that’s about it. So I went with one of my friends who was a pledge ... they were serving jungle juice, which is Everclear and vodka — which is a lot of alcohol. I had like two cups of that, and I was talking to a guy and he was telling me he was a pledge and was really excited about it.”
During high school Roberts had volunteered for the Southern Arizona Center Against Sexual Assault and had learned some dangers to look out for at a party — spiked drinks, for example. She kept a vigilant eye on her drink and the man who was filling it for her.
“[The pledge] had gotten me another drink, but I’m always really careful about people giving me drinks, and so I made sure I was with him when he got it. And I didn’t notice him putting anything in it — but when I was drinking I noticed a powdery texture,” Roberts said. “So then I got really, really nervous and I tried to go to the bathroom. There was a long line for the bathroom and [the pledge] wouldn’t let me, he kept pulling me back. I was just going to spit up whatever I was drinking ... Eventually I got to the bathroom and he came with me. He put me on the bathroom counter and was, like, kissing me and touching me and grabbing me all over. I kept telling him no.”
During the assault, Roberts hit her head on the bathroom wall. Whether from a concussion or being drugged, she doesn’t remember much after leaving the bathroom, and she later woke up in a bed. Her clothes were disheveled.
“[The party] was Risky Business-themed,” Roberts said. “You wear a button-up and knee-highs, and that’s about it. So I went with one of my friends who was a pledge ... they were serving jungle juice, which is Everclear and vodka — which is a lot of alcohol. I had like two cups of that, and I was talking to a guy and he was telling me he was a pledge and was really excited about it.”
During high school Roberts had volunteered for the Southern Arizona Center Against Sexual Assault and had learned some dangers to look out for at a party — spiked drinks, for example. She kept a vigilant eye on her drink and the man who was filling it for her.
“[The pledge] had gotten me another drink, but I’m always really careful about people giving me drinks, and so I made sure I was with him when he got it. And I didn’t notice him putting anything in it — but when I was drinking I noticed a powdery texture,” Roberts said. “So then I got really, really nervous and I tried to go to the bathroom. There was a long line for the bathroom and [the pledge] wouldn’t let me, he kept pulling me back. I was just going to spit up whatever I was drinking ... Eventually I got to the bathroom and he came with me. He put me on the bathroom counter and was, like, kissing me and touching me and grabbing me all over. I kept telling him no.”
During the assault, Roberts hit her head on the bathroom wall. Whether from a concussion or being drugged, she doesn’t remember much after leaving the bathroom, and she later woke up in a bed. Her clothes were disheveled.
A horse valet in the parking lot
I wrote this article for the Arizona Daily Sun about the Horsemen Lodge, a Flagstaff landmark celebrating its 40th anniversary.
Forty-one years ago the Horsemen Lodge Steakhouse was established on a patch of farmland on the outskirts of Flagstaff. Today it still thrives as a regional landmark and a local favorite with a taste of the Wild West.
Steve Alvin and Karan Patel took ownership of the restaurant a little over two years ago, after the original owner, Bob Lupo, was unable to continue the Doney Park business. Alvin, who also owns the Northern Pines restaurant, felt it was important to maintain the atmosphere and charisma of the restaurant, and to revive past favorites like the salad bar and horse valets.
“I always say I’m proud to be the chosen one, to have this opportunity to carry the Horsemen name forward,” Alvin said.
During their first two years of owning the restaurant, Alvin and Patel have improved the quality of meat on the menu, renovated the kitchen and bar, and brought back the “horse” in Horsemen’s Lodge.
They bought two horses — Bonnie and Clyde — which the employees ride and use as “horse valets” during the weekend and special events. When a car pulls into the parking lot, an employee will greet them on a horse and direct them to a parking space, at which point they’ll allow any curious kids or adults to pet and take pictures with the horse.
“With the horses, the kids are able to pet them, ask questions, give them an apple once in a while, or carrots,” Alvin said. “I think it’s just … very important for Flagstaff, because Flagstaff is one of those places in the mountains where people expect to see horses, deer, elk and all those things.”
Alvin and Patel remodeled the horseshoe bar and added multiple flat-screen TVs into the front of the restaurant to serve as a gathering space for sports games and happy hour. This bar opened last year to celebrate the Horsemen Lodge’s 40th anniversary.
Steve Alvin and Karan Patel took ownership of the restaurant a little over two years ago, after the original owner, Bob Lupo, was unable to continue the Doney Park business. Alvin, who also owns the Northern Pines restaurant, felt it was important to maintain the atmosphere and charisma of the restaurant, and to revive past favorites like the salad bar and horse valets.
“I always say I’m proud to be the chosen one, to have this opportunity to carry the Horsemen name forward,” Alvin said.
During their first two years of owning the restaurant, Alvin and Patel have improved the quality of meat on the menu, renovated the kitchen and bar, and brought back the “horse” in Horsemen’s Lodge.
They bought two horses — Bonnie and Clyde — which the employees ride and use as “horse valets” during the weekend and special events. When a car pulls into the parking lot, an employee will greet them on a horse and direct them to a parking space, at which point they’ll allow any curious kids or adults to pet and take pictures with the horse.
“With the horses, the kids are able to pet them, ask questions, give them an apple once in a while, or carrots,” Alvin said. “I think it’s just … very important for Flagstaff, because Flagstaff is one of those places in the mountains where people expect to see horses, deer, elk and all those things.”
Alvin and Patel remodeled the horseshoe bar and added multiple flat-screen TVs into the front of the restaurant to serve as a gathering space for sports games and happy hour. This bar opened last year to celebrate the Horsemen Lodge’s 40th anniversary.
Kayla’s Hands playground honors local humanitarian aid worker
I wrote this article for Prescott Woman on Kayla Mueller, a remarkable young woman and humanitarian aid worker who lost her life at the hands of ISIS. Kayla, who was a Prescott native and NAU graduate, dedicated her life to helping others, and it was an honor to meet her parents and discuss the inspiring life that she led.
The hum of a bulldozer crackles through the early summer heat, kicking up clouds of dust. Surrounded by fences and caked in dull-colored dirt, the small area it covers may not seem like much now, but will soon hold the laughter and shouts of children as the new Pioneer Park playground honoring Kayla Mueller.
Kayla Mueller was a 26-year-old Prescott native and humanitarian aid worker who was abducted by members of ISIS as she was leaving a Doctors Without Borders hospital in Aleppo in August 2013. After holding her captive for 18 months, ISIS suddenly claimed in February 2015 that she had been killed in a Jordanian airstrike. While it’s not clear whether this was truly the cause of her death, it is clear that Kayla used her compassion and generosity to make a bigger impact on the world in her short 26 years than most people have in an entire lifetime.
“Kayla’s heart was to help,” said Kayla’s mother, Marsha Mueller. “From the time she was young, before she could even drive, we were taking her to different organizations to help … That was Kayla’s God-given gift, to just help wherever she could.”
Kayla Mueller was a 26-year-old Prescott native and humanitarian aid worker who was abducted by members of ISIS as she was leaving a Doctors Without Borders hospital in Aleppo in August 2013. After holding her captive for 18 months, ISIS suddenly claimed in February 2015 that she had been killed in a Jordanian airstrike. While it’s not clear whether this was truly the cause of her death, it is clear that Kayla used her compassion and generosity to make a bigger impact on the world in her short 26 years than most people have in an entire lifetime.
“Kayla’s heart was to help,” said Kayla’s mother, Marsha Mueller. “From the time she was young, before she could even drive, we were taking her to different organizations to help … That was Kayla’s God-given gift, to just help wherever she could.”
Michael Ort, Volcanologist
This is a profile on a local volcanologist and researcher that I wrote for the NAU Office of Research.
If you visit a volcano, there’s a good chance you’ll find volcanologist Michael Ort there too. Ort, an NAU professor in the School of Earth Sciences and Sustainability, has spent the majority of his life studying volcanoes in areas ranging from Arizona to Italy, South America and beyond, with a particular emphasis on explosive volcanic eruptions.
“What I’m interested in is how explosive eruptions happen. I was one of those kids who never outgrew pyromania,” Ort said.
Much of Ort’s research involves how groundwater and other sources of water become trapped with magma in the conduit and flash into water vapor, creating an explosive eruption that propels magma out of the volcano. These explosive eruptions often leave a crater or caldera and can also cause landslides and other hazards.
Creation of Calderas and Landslides
One volcano prone to enormous landslides is Piton de la Fournaise, an active volcano at Réunion Island, a French island in the Indian Ocean that experienced a series of explosive eruptions about 3,000 years ago. Research by Ort and other volcanologists determined that these eruptions resulted from pieces of the volcano sliding off into the ocean, which created cracks in the volcano that allowed magma to mix with the hydrothermal system and groundwater and cause a water vapor-driven explosion.
“We can monitor the volcano and see that when it’s starting to slide more towards the sea, that’s . . . when it’s more likely to be explosive,” Ort said. “This is something that no one had ever done there.”
Ort’s recent research also includes time at Ischia, a volcanic island off the coast of Naples. The eruption of Ischia’s Mount Epomeo, which occurred about 55,000 years ago, left a large caldera that produced a low-pressure area in the ground. The low pressure allowed magma to flow back under the caldera and cause a resurgence, which has lifted up the middle of the caldera at an unusually fast rate of about 2.5 cm (or about an inch) a year for the past 28,000 years. This speed created steep cliffs 700 meters high that can potentially cause landslides and subsequently tsunami in the Tyrrhenian Sea.
Ort has been studying how exactly the uplift occurred and whether the rock moved as a single solid piece or many individual pieces. After originally assuming that it moved as one solid piece, with simply a higher rate on one side that caused an uplift like an opening trapdoor, Ort and other researchers have now discovered that the rock is actually composed of individual pieces that can rise and then fall off at different times due to the uplift.
“That’s actually kind of worrisome, because that says that there’s an awful lot of pressure in one place that might lead to more avalanches and tsunami,” Ort said. “Even though they looked like they moved as one big piece, they might have moved as a bunch of individual pieces that are responding to something happening deeper down. . . . Our work would be saying, ‘You shouldn’t assume that they behave as a single block.’”
Implications of Volcanic Pumice and Ash
The movement of volcanic rock isn’t the only aspect Ort has studied—he often studies how pyroclastic currents (fast-moving currents of hot gas, ash, and pumice) move, and he is also interested in the products of explosive eruptions. Ort has conducted research at Okmok, one of the most active volcanoes in Alaska’s Aleutian Islands chain, which was considered an anomaly when it erupted in 2008. The eruption left an unusually small amount of pumice and ash in the sky, which was later determined to be due to a large amount of water in the conduit. Part of the water vaporized and caused the explosion, but the remainder of the water was propelled out with the magma and essentially “scrubbed” the atmosphere of the ash by turning it to the consistency of mud and causing it to fall out of the sky.
According to Ort, “This [finding] will be useful in future eruptions because we can predict, if it’s this kind of [volcanic ash] eruption, that the eruption cloud isn’t going to go very far . . . [and] disrupt air traffic nearly as much [as another eruption might].”
“What I’m interested in is how explosive eruptions happen. I was one of those kids who never outgrew pyromania,” Ort said.
Much of Ort’s research involves how groundwater and other sources of water become trapped with magma in the conduit and flash into water vapor, creating an explosive eruption that propels magma out of the volcano. These explosive eruptions often leave a crater or caldera and can also cause landslides and other hazards.
Creation of Calderas and Landslides
One volcano prone to enormous landslides is Piton de la Fournaise, an active volcano at Réunion Island, a French island in the Indian Ocean that experienced a series of explosive eruptions about 3,000 years ago. Research by Ort and other volcanologists determined that these eruptions resulted from pieces of the volcano sliding off into the ocean, which created cracks in the volcano that allowed magma to mix with the hydrothermal system and groundwater and cause a water vapor-driven explosion.
“We can monitor the volcano and see that when it’s starting to slide more towards the sea, that’s . . . when it’s more likely to be explosive,” Ort said. “This is something that no one had ever done there.”
Ort’s recent research also includes time at Ischia, a volcanic island off the coast of Naples. The eruption of Ischia’s Mount Epomeo, which occurred about 55,000 years ago, left a large caldera that produced a low-pressure area in the ground. The low pressure allowed magma to flow back under the caldera and cause a resurgence, which has lifted up the middle of the caldera at an unusually fast rate of about 2.5 cm (or about an inch) a year for the past 28,000 years. This speed created steep cliffs 700 meters high that can potentially cause landslides and subsequently tsunami in the Tyrrhenian Sea.
Ort has been studying how exactly the uplift occurred and whether the rock moved as a single solid piece or many individual pieces. After originally assuming that it moved as one solid piece, with simply a higher rate on one side that caused an uplift like an opening trapdoor, Ort and other researchers have now discovered that the rock is actually composed of individual pieces that can rise and then fall off at different times due to the uplift.
“That’s actually kind of worrisome, because that says that there’s an awful lot of pressure in one place that might lead to more avalanches and tsunami,” Ort said. “Even though they looked like they moved as one big piece, they might have moved as a bunch of individual pieces that are responding to something happening deeper down. . . . Our work would be saying, ‘You shouldn’t assume that they behave as a single block.’”
Implications of Volcanic Pumice and Ash
The movement of volcanic rock isn’t the only aspect Ort has studied—he often studies how pyroclastic currents (fast-moving currents of hot gas, ash, and pumice) move, and he is also interested in the products of explosive eruptions. Ort has conducted research at Okmok, one of the most active volcanoes in Alaska’s Aleutian Islands chain, which was considered an anomaly when it erupted in 2008. The eruption left an unusually small amount of pumice and ash in the sky, which was later determined to be due to a large amount of water in the conduit. Part of the water vaporized and caused the explosion, but the remainder of the water was propelled out with the magma and essentially “scrubbed” the atmosphere of the ash by turning it to the consistency of mud and causing it to fall out of the sky.
According to Ort, “This [finding] will be useful in future eruptions because we can predict, if it’s this kind of [volcanic ash] eruption, that the eruption cloud isn’t going to go very far . . . [and] disrupt air traffic nearly as much [as another eruption might].”
Copywriting Pieces
Here are recent copywriting pieces I've written for social ads within my work at MAKA Digital, a digital marketing agency serving lifestyle brands.
That Time May Cease
This is an excerpt of a New Adult novel I'm currently writing about a girl who's stuck in grief following the death of her mother and wakes one morning to find the world around her has become "stuck" as well - society has frozen in place as she struggles to heal and restart her life.
Ellie fixed her gaze on one swirling blade of her ceiling fan and tried to follow its movement, around and around and aroundaroundaround. Soon she grew dizzy and squinched her eyes shut, the movement still vibrating under her eyelids.
She was lying flat on her back on the floor of her childhood bedroom, her arms and legs stretched out like she was making a snow angel. The carpet was stiff beneath her, and her neck was beginning to ache, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Somehow this location and position felt slightly less painful than all the others she had tried; somehow it made the hole in her heart bleed a little less. Maybe it was the flatness of her position, the way her body felt like it was slowly oozing into the ground. Or perhaps it was the fact that, from her vantage point, all the furniture in her room seemed comically large. Whatever it was, it seemed to lessen the pain in her chest, but it did nothing to quiet her mind.
Whenever she tried to block one memory, another one appeared.
“My cancer is back.” Her mother’s voice had sounded heavy and muffled over the phone. The word had rung in Ellie’s head like an echoing bell. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer. The first time it had invaded her mother’s body Ellie had been about thirteen, old enough to understand the implications of the diagnosis but not old enough to handle the subsequent emotions that blanketed her house and everyone in it. Afterwards she had tried to block out that entire year from her mind, all the tears and sleepless nights and medicines in little orange bottles. But now her mother’s cancer was back. Nothing else mattered. On the phone that night she had swallowed hard, told her mom it would be all right. They had gotten through this once; they could get through it again.
She wasn’t entirely sure she believed her own words.
That was nine months ago. November 19th—the date was imprinted in Ellie’s mind. Now it was August 11th, the start of what Ellie had always considered the worst month of the year. The heat, even in Oregon, was as thick as mud, and the thought of returning to school—to late nights and grades marked in red pen and rushed meals of boxed pasta—weighed on her mind.
But now returning to school seemed like a wonderful vacation. Ellie yearned for textbooks and writing and chaotic days, anything to fill her mind with distractions so she wouldn't think about her mother’s last days. The hospital room had been cold, and everything blurred through the sheen of her tears. Outside the room the nurses whisked up and down the hallway, chattering, as if the world wasn’t falling apart right there on the linoleum floor.
The creaking of her bedroom door pulled Ellie from her thoughts. Her father was standing in the doorway.
“Why are you on the floor?” he asked, forcing a small smile onto his face. From her perspective he appeared out-of-proportion, upside down. His eyes were watchful under his thin-framed glasses.
Ellie shrugged. “Comfortable here.” Using too many words threatened to dislodge the cork in her throat that held back all her tears.
“Well, I’m making dinner,” her father said. “Spaghetti sound okay? We can make some salad to go with it.”
“Not hungry,” Ellie replied softly.
“El, you gotta eat. All you’ve had today is a bowl of cereal. C’mon, tell me what sounds good.” His expression shifted to worry, and the tears Ellie had been trying so hard to hold back suddenly stung at her eyes. She hated making him worry, on top of everything else.
“Spaghetti’s fine,” she whispered, concentrating hard on the collection of Broadway posters taped to the ceiling. Her eyes traced the black outline of the star in Hamilton. Ellie had begged her parents for tickets back during its first run, but it had been too expensive, even then.
Her father stared at her for a long while, as if he hadn’t heard her answer. “God, Ellie, please,” he said finally, his voice strained. “Talk to me. Or talk to someone else. I can take you to a therapist. Really, we can find the money.”
Ellie shook her head. Her father was retired, and even with insurance her mother’s treatments had been expensive. She already felt like enough of a burden on him without adding finances on top of it, too. “No,” she said, the salt of her tears hitting her skin. “No therapists.”
How could she talk to a therapist about her feelings if she didn’t even understand them herself? She couldn’t bear to sit on a suede couch in a dimly lit room, telling a gentle-faced stranger about her mother. She would most certainly cry, and she hated crying in front of strangers. That’s all she had done lately, was cry. She needed less crying, not more. She just needed to bury all these feelings away, and then get back to school and put this whole horrible summer behind her.
“No therapists,” she repeated more firmly.
Her father sighed, his face drawn. “Okay,” he said softly. “No therapists. For now. But only if you run to the grocery store for me and pick up some veggies for a salad.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and Ellie frowned. He had been doing this recently—inventing little errands to force her out of the house. He was trying to keep her from staying inside all day, but she liked staying inside all day. It was easier. If she stayed inside she didn’t have to bother getting dressed. She could stay in the soft darkness of her room and lose herself to the glow of Netflix whenever the memories became too loud.
“But you made me go get laundry soap and shampoo this morning.”
“Yeah, well, I’m afraid laundry soap wouldn’t be very good in our salad. C’mon, up and at ‘em.” He reached out a hand. “Once you get back, we can watch The X-Files with our dinner. And I won’t even complain this time.”
Ellie took his hand, letting him pull her up. He had been doing that, too—bribing her with her favorite TV shows. She couldn’t say no to him, not when she could see that dusting of hope in his eye. She wanted so badly to make him happy.
She followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen. It had been over five months since her mother’s death, but all of her belongings were still settled around the house, as if she might drift by and pick them up. There was the cluster of stoic medicine bottles sitting on the table. The phone charger and chapstick perched by the door. The reading glasses she always seemed to lose when she needed them most, even though she vehemently denied that there was anything wrong with her eyesight.
It was strange, Ellie thought, how someone’s belongings could exist without them. Some part of her had assumed that all these objects would simply fade away, leaving of their own accord to join her mother wherever she was now.
Ellie pulled her car keys off the hook by the door, and, quietly, when her father wasn’t looking, took her mother’s chapstick and slid it into her pocket.
Stay tuned for the rest of the novel when it hits bookstores near you 😉
She was lying flat on her back on the floor of her childhood bedroom, her arms and legs stretched out like she was making a snow angel. The carpet was stiff beneath her, and her neck was beginning to ache, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Somehow this location and position felt slightly less painful than all the others she had tried; somehow it made the hole in her heart bleed a little less. Maybe it was the flatness of her position, the way her body felt like it was slowly oozing into the ground. Or perhaps it was the fact that, from her vantage point, all the furniture in her room seemed comically large. Whatever it was, it seemed to lessen the pain in her chest, but it did nothing to quiet her mind.
Whenever she tried to block one memory, another one appeared.
“My cancer is back.” Her mother’s voice had sounded heavy and muffled over the phone. The word had rung in Ellie’s head like an echoing bell. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer. The first time it had invaded her mother’s body Ellie had been about thirteen, old enough to understand the implications of the diagnosis but not old enough to handle the subsequent emotions that blanketed her house and everyone in it. Afterwards she had tried to block out that entire year from her mind, all the tears and sleepless nights and medicines in little orange bottles. But now her mother’s cancer was back. Nothing else mattered. On the phone that night she had swallowed hard, told her mom it would be all right. They had gotten through this once; they could get through it again.
She wasn’t entirely sure she believed her own words.
That was nine months ago. November 19th—the date was imprinted in Ellie’s mind. Now it was August 11th, the start of what Ellie had always considered the worst month of the year. The heat, even in Oregon, was as thick as mud, and the thought of returning to school—to late nights and grades marked in red pen and rushed meals of boxed pasta—weighed on her mind.
But now returning to school seemed like a wonderful vacation. Ellie yearned for textbooks and writing and chaotic days, anything to fill her mind with distractions so she wouldn't think about her mother’s last days. The hospital room had been cold, and everything blurred through the sheen of her tears. Outside the room the nurses whisked up and down the hallway, chattering, as if the world wasn’t falling apart right there on the linoleum floor.
The creaking of her bedroom door pulled Ellie from her thoughts. Her father was standing in the doorway.
“Why are you on the floor?” he asked, forcing a small smile onto his face. From her perspective he appeared out-of-proportion, upside down. His eyes were watchful under his thin-framed glasses.
Ellie shrugged. “Comfortable here.” Using too many words threatened to dislodge the cork in her throat that held back all her tears.
“Well, I’m making dinner,” her father said. “Spaghetti sound okay? We can make some salad to go with it.”
“Not hungry,” Ellie replied softly.
“El, you gotta eat. All you’ve had today is a bowl of cereal. C’mon, tell me what sounds good.” His expression shifted to worry, and the tears Ellie had been trying so hard to hold back suddenly stung at her eyes. She hated making him worry, on top of everything else.
“Spaghetti’s fine,” she whispered, concentrating hard on the collection of Broadway posters taped to the ceiling. Her eyes traced the black outline of the star in Hamilton. Ellie had begged her parents for tickets back during its first run, but it had been too expensive, even then.
Her father stared at her for a long while, as if he hadn’t heard her answer. “God, Ellie, please,” he said finally, his voice strained. “Talk to me. Or talk to someone else. I can take you to a therapist. Really, we can find the money.”
Ellie shook her head. Her father was retired, and even with insurance her mother’s treatments had been expensive. She already felt like enough of a burden on him without adding finances on top of it, too. “No,” she said, the salt of her tears hitting her skin. “No therapists.”
How could she talk to a therapist about her feelings if she didn’t even understand them herself? She couldn’t bear to sit on a suede couch in a dimly lit room, telling a gentle-faced stranger about her mother. She would most certainly cry, and she hated crying in front of strangers. That’s all she had done lately, was cry. She needed less crying, not more. She just needed to bury all these feelings away, and then get back to school and put this whole horrible summer behind her.
“No therapists,” she repeated more firmly.
Her father sighed, his face drawn. “Okay,” he said softly. “No therapists. For now. But only if you run to the grocery store for me and pick up some veggies for a salad.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and Ellie frowned. He had been doing this recently—inventing little errands to force her out of the house. He was trying to keep her from staying inside all day, but she liked staying inside all day. It was easier. If she stayed inside she didn’t have to bother getting dressed. She could stay in the soft darkness of her room and lose herself to the glow of Netflix whenever the memories became too loud.
“But you made me go get laundry soap and shampoo this morning.”
“Yeah, well, I’m afraid laundry soap wouldn’t be very good in our salad. C’mon, up and at ‘em.” He reached out a hand. “Once you get back, we can watch The X-Files with our dinner. And I won’t even complain this time.”
Ellie took his hand, letting him pull her up. He had been doing that, too—bribing her with her favorite TV shows. She couldn’t say no to him, not when she could see that dusting of hope in his eye. She wanted so badly to make him happy.
She followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen. It had been over five months since her mother’s death, but all of her belongings were still settled around the house, as if she might drift by and pick them up. There was the cluster of stoic medicine bottles sitting on the table. The phone charger and chapstick perched by the door. The reading glasses she always seemed to lose when she needed them most, even though she vehemently denied that there was anything wrong with her eyesight.
It was strange, Ellie thought, how someone’s belongings could exist without them. Some part of her had assumed that all these objects would simply fade away, leaving of their own accord to join her mother wherever she was now.
Ellie pulled her car keys off the hook by the door, and, quietly, when her father wasn’t looking, took her mother’s chapstick and slid it into her pocket.
Stay tuned for the rest of the novel when it hits bookstores near you 😉