<\/p>\n
Craig suggested that they pretend, for twenty-four hours, as if all the money weren\u2019t already gone. And so having swept and locked up, having balanced the take and seen to the dishes that had been heaped in the sink, he gave the cash\u2014two hundred dollars taken from the register\u2014to Karen, and said, \u201cTreat it like an investment.\u201d<\/p>\n
And Karen, having cleaned the stations and prepped, having gone upstairs and showered the scent of the kitchen from her skin and painted her nails the color of slate, put the bundle of twenties in her purse, and agreed. \u201cPoof,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
In the morning, they packed the Volvo with dry towels, a change of clothes, and the food\u2014chops, corn, tomatoes, summer squash\u2014they\u2019d borrowed from the kitchen and headed north. Seventy miles along, with NPR pattering from the radio, Craig realized he\u2019d forgotten the alcohol.<\/p>\n
She crossed her arms and told him to figure it out.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can get beer at a gas station,\u201d Craig said.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not a frat party.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNice<\/em> beer.\u201d<\/p>\n She\u2019d built her kitchen on precision\u2014of knife cuts, measurements, portions, and pinches\u2014and he knew how confounded she was by clumsiness and carelessness.<\/p>\n \u201cFigure it out,\u201d she said again.<\/p>\n Down the highway, they came to a state liquor store. Craig followed his wife inside, found a basket, and started to whistle, but the mood felt wrong. \u201cAre you still mad?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wasn\u2019t mad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you still annoyed?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I mean, I\u2019m not mad at you.\u201d She stopped, then turned to him and laid her body against his, letting her arms fall to her side. Into his neck, she said, \u201cI\u2019m just scared.\u201d<\/p>\n The gesture, there, in the liquor store, like something a child might do, surprised and unnerved him. But he put his arm around her and said, \u201cIf it isn\u2019t right, we just won\u2019t bring it up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s not talk about it.\u201d She was twirling her left foot around its big toe. She pulled away from him. \u201cAnyway, we have<\/em> to bring it up.\u201d<\/p>\n Then she whipped around and marched forward through the aisles: In an instant, herself again, in an instant, immersed in the task.<\/p>\n Karen found a tall bottle of Grey Goose and went to pay. At the register, a display advertised a sale on well rum. Craig added a handle to their tab.<\/p>\n Karen frowned.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was a thing of ours in college,\u201d Craig said. \u201cI\u2019ll keep it in the car and only get it later, only if they want it.\u201d<\/p>\n She withdrew cash from her purse, counted out three twenties, and paid. \u201cPlease don\u2019t puke tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig smiled.<\/p>\n Forty-five minutes to the north, the town emerged from the forest. They passed the old school house that had been restored and renovated into a general store. A quarter mile after that, they saw the next landmark: the town\u2019s only gas station.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s the Shell,\u201d Karen said.<\/p>\n On the left, the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee shouldered up to the road, and they could see boats bobbing in the bay. Children fussed in a line outside the ice cream parlor. A souvenir store peddled graphic t-shirts: \u201cWolfeboro, NH est. 1759.\u201d They turned left at the painted rock and bounced along a dusty road until the glimmer of Ted\u2019s BMW could be seen through the trees.<\/p>\n Craig pulled into the driveway and parked. The house, a two-story cape style, armored in shingles, with a tiered lawn and a raised entrance, seemed to tower before the lake. Gardens lined the walkway, and tulips and hosta had pierced the mulch and flowered. The front door gaped, and beyond the screen, past the house, the water shimmered.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s\u2014\u201d Karen eyed the cottage and searched for the word. \u201cGrand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess it would be.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig stacked the overnight bag atop their cooler and carried both. Karen brought the vodka.<\/p>\n \u201cHello!\u201d Craig knocked with an elbow, and when there was no answer, he looked at Karen, shrugged and entered.<\/p>\n Like a mausoleum, the interior of the house comprised a single, expansive space. The kitchen opened to the living room and ended in a wall of sliding glass doors that framed the lake. Beyond the house, sitting on the porch and reading a curled-over copy of InStyle<\/em>, the girl, Natalie, sunned. Beyond her, on the dock, Ted crouched and was fiddling with the line to his cigar boat. Craig started to introduce himself.<\/p>\n \u201cYou made it,\u201d Ted called.<\/p>\n Natalie stood, and they shook hands. She was younger than them and thin. From behind moon-shaped sunglasses, her hair and skin seemed to radiate.<\/p>\n \u201cWe brought vodka,\u201d Craig called back.<\/p>\n Karen frowned, but then raised the bottle for Ted to see.<\/p>\n \u201cPerfect. Come on, I\u2019ll give you a tour.\u201d<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n Ted had meant of the lake, not of the house. They gathered in the cigar boat, and Ted eased them into open water. As they sped along, the wind swept through Ted\u2019s shirt, and with a leg propped up on the bench, he looked as though he were conquering the lake, not touring it. When Natalie produced Heinekens from a refrigerated compartment, Craig aimed a smile at his wife, who seemed not to notice or care.<\/p>\n Ted drove, occasionally slowing the boat so he could be heard over the motor. \u201cThere are over 250 islands in the lake,\u201d he said. \u201cBecause of all the peninsulas, we have almost 300 miles of shoreline. Winnipesaukee is completely saturated with development, but you\u2019d never know because of the zoning. Natalie and I had to wait for someone to die before we could get The Reprieve<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n Natalie was draped across the bench seat. She sipped her beer and, with her spare hand, pinned her fluttering hat to her head. She looked as if she\u2019d been plucked from the pages of her fashion magazine.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you serious?\u201d Karen asked.<\/p>\n \u201cSort of. The house belonged to a local contractor for the last forty years. When he died, we bought it from his children and renovated to the studs and back. Natalie grew up summering around here. It was important for us to be on Winnipesaukee.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow lovely,\u201d Karen said. \u201cExcept for the dying thing.\u201d<\/p>\n Ted sped them along. \u201cThere are all kinds of fish in here. Bass, trout, catfish. We\u2019re on watch for black carp. We\u2019re supposed to kill them if we catch them.\u201d<\/p>\n Natalie sat up. \u201cNo one told me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you\u2019re not on the list, sweetie.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do we have to kill them for?\u201d<\/p>\n Ted set the boat to idle, then turned and faced them. \u201cThey\u2019re a nuisance, and an invasive species. They have no natural predators here in Winnipesaukee, which means that they\u2019re a threat to the whole ecosystem. They\u2019ve asked us to report any that we see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s they?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe carp.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe other they.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cScientists, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLicensed to fish-kill.\u201d Natalie pow-powed with fingers shaped like pistols.<\/p>\n \u201cI read about that,\u201d Craig said. \u201cIn the Globe<\/em>. Supposedly they\u2019re damming up the Mississippi so the carp won\u2019t reach the Great Lakes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut then there\u2019s the whole flying thing,\u201d Craig said. \u201cSo.\u201d<\/p>\n Natalie holstered her pistols. \u201cThey fly?\u201d<\/p>\n Ted said, \u201cTechnically, they jump, but they\u2019ve been known to jump right into boats. People have been knocked out. Bones have been broken. The footage is unbelievable.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSuperfish,\u201d Natalie said. \u201cCan you eat them?\u201d<\/p>\n Karen was looking out at the lake, and Craig wondered if she\u2019d been listening at all. \u201cWhat do you think, Karen?\u201d<\/p>\n She turned towards him and blinked, several times, as if to cool her eyes from the sting of the sun. \u201cI don\u2019t cook them, but they\u2019re popular in Asia. They\u2019re kind of hard to come by in Cambridge.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot for long,\u201d Natalie said.<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n At the dock, Ted tethered the boat.<\/p>\n Craig said. \u201cWhen did you learn all this stuff?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout the carp? I probably read the same article as you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, all this.\u201d He gestured towards the lake. \u201cDriving boats, tying lines, fishing. You knew as little as I did in college.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s not a lot to it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou look good,\u201d Craig said, and he meant it.<\/p>\n Karen asked Natalie for a tour of the house. \u201cI\u2019d love to see the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n The women went inside, and Ted tossed his empty bottle into a bin on the dock and produced another pair of beers from the cooler.<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019s the restaurant business?\u201d Ted asked.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you ever heard the wisdom, figure out how much capital you\u2019ll need, then double it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hadn\u2019t, but I can imagine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, double it again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOuch. Are you closed today?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFirst time since Christmas. We\u2019ll be open again tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n Ted coiled a line and set it on the dock. \u201cWe\u2019re glad you\u2019re here.\u201d<\/p>\n Natalie came bouncing from the house. \u201cKaren made Sex on the Beaches.\u201d She was brandishing a pitcher. \u201cSexes on the beach? Sexes on the beaches? Well, she made a bunch.\u201d<\/p>\n Karen trailed behind, carrying a tray of glasses that brimmed with pink froth.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, chef,\u201d Ted said, taking one. \u201cWhat goes in this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVodka, orange juice, cranberry. It\u2019s supposed to have peach schnapps, but we didn\u2019t bring any.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s delicious.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s nothing. Actually, I\u2019d like to cook you something proper,\u201d she said. \u201cTo say thank you for letting us invite ourselves over.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbsolutely not. I\u2019m thrilled you did. And anyway, Craig was just telling me you all haven\u2019t closed since Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally, we brought a few things.\u201d She gestured towards their cooler, which was where Craig had left it on the deck.<\/p>\n \u201cNot a chance. We\u2019ve been marinating salmon. I have none of your expertise, but I can navigate a grill.\u201d<\/p>\n Karen looked to Craig, and he shrugged. She helped herself to one of her drinks.<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n By the afternoon, they\u2019d ambled their way into the lake. Ted and Natalie unveiled a fleet of inflatable rafts from the shed, and they each claimed one. The women changed inside and emerged together. Craig couldn\u2019t remember the last time he\u2019d gone swimming or the last time he\u2019d seen Karen in a bathing suit. Eleven months concealed within the androgyny of her chef\u2019s jacket, and then she reappeared. She\u2019d accumulated a small paunch from the tastings and the stress, but at thirty-three, she was young and pretty. Sitting on the dock in the sunlight, lower legs submerged, she looked like an invasive species herself, a non-fish in water. Her sudden lack of precision warmed him with nostalgia. From his perch atop a black rubber inner tube, Craig looked at his wife and missed what had been quietly absent for months.<\/p>\n Natalie, it was impossible not to notice, had benefited from a life of leisure. Her wrap and white bathing suit read beautifully against her skin, and her hair, in the wind, whiffled about her shoulders. Craig looked, then looked away, then looked again.<\/p>\n Ted puttered to the dock in a pedal boat, straw hat on his head, sunglasses obscuring his eyes. Beside him, he had a cooler of beer and a tray of scallops on ice. He escorted Natalie into his boat as if announcing a debutante. Karen dropped her tube into the lake with a splash. When it floated away, she corralled it with a pointed, steel-colored toe. Then, she clambered into its center, arriving drenched, but smiling anyway. They tied a line from the boat to each of the inner tubes, and Ted towed them out.<\/p>\n \u201cIncoming,\u201d Ted said, catapulting a Heineken at Craig.<\/p>\n The bottle plunked into the lake beside Craig, and he snatched it before it could sink.<\/p>\n \u201cComing at you, Karen. Watch the splash.\u201d<\/p>\n A metal bottle opener dangled from Craig\u2019s inner tube. He snapped open his beer, and stowed the cap in his bathing suit pocket. \u201cThey\u2019re having the same problem with pythons in Florida,\u201d Craig said.<\/p>\n \u201cSnakes?\u201d Natalie said.<\/p>\n \u201cBig ones,\u201d said Ted. \u201cThey\u2019ve been eating people\u2019s dogs. A few have turned up in swimming pools. In people\u2019s kitchens, even.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere aren\u2019t any snakes in this lake, are there Ted?\u201d Karen squirmed to look down into the water, and her raft tottered beneath her.<\/p>\n \u201cProbably.\u201d Craig answered.<\/p>\n She splashed him.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do pythons get into pools?\u201d Natalie asked.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s the really interesting thing,\u201d said Craig. \u201cPeople buy them as pets. But when they get too big to manage, the owners just release them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re the perfect predators for that environment,\u201d Ted said. \u201cThey even eat crocodiles.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho would want a pet snake?\u201d Karen asked.<\/p>\n \u201cMagicians,\u201d said Natalie.<\/p>\n \u201cLots of people do,\u201d said Ted. \u201cThey actually breed snakes in captivity just to meet the demand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDisgusting,\u201d said Karen.<\/p>\n Craig flicked water at his wife. \u201cThey don\u2019t bark, and you only have to feed them once a week.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s as if the environment in Florida were engineered for this calamity,\u201d Ted said. \u201cAs if this whole trouble were nothing more than the inevitable, little consequence of the existence of Florida and the existence of pythons.\u201d He slouched in his chair and lowered his hat on his brow.<\/p>\n \u201cTell that to poor Fido,\u201d said Natalie.<\/p>\n \u201cWe should put these snake releasers in prison,\u201d Karen said.<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d Craig said. \u201cLet\u2019s not.\u201d And he settled deep into the belly of his inner tube and rested his feet on the edge of the pedal boat. Natalie\u2019s long, beautiful legs shimmered.<\/p>\n \u201cI think you\u2019re burning,\u201d Natalie said.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re pink.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t been sunburned since I was a child,\u201d Craig said, fondly.<\/p>\n \u201cLet me see.\u201d Karen flopped over in her tube and paddled toward him. \u201cOh my God, Craig, you\u2019re roasted.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s worry about it tomorrow,\u201d Craig said, without opening his eyes. He took another sip of beer.<\/p>\n \u201cCraig, you are roasted.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have some sunscreen right here.\u201d Natalie leaned over and squeezed lotion onto his chest. \u201cOops,\u201d she said, as it splattered.<\/p>\n Craig opened one eye and began rubbing in the cream. \u201cNo harm,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n Ted\u2019s salad was delicious. Ripe red tomatoes, crisp romaine, candied walnuts and sun-dried cranberries from Massachusetts; he\u2019d even made his own vinaigrette.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t do anything?\u201d Karen asked, following Ted around the kitchen. \u201cLet me make something. You should try my cooking.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCraig, constrain your wife, please, and place her somewhere relaxing. I suggest the hammock.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome on, honey, take the night off.\u201d Craig led her away from the grill and to the hammock. She resisted at first, but then fell into the netting.<\/p>\n She whispered, \u201cI should cook, Craig. It\u2019s important. Make him let me cook.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d he said. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter. Take a nap and let me worry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d she said, her eyes already closed. \u201cYes. You take care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig wobbled inside and filled a glass with ice water. The Heinekens were chilling in a bucket on the floor, and he helped himself to one. Then, he climbed the spiral staircase to the second floor and let himself onto the porch and into a wicker chair. Craig looked out at the lake. His eyes became heavy, dropped, then reopened. He spotted Natalie sunbathing on the dock in her white bikini. And Craig looked because she was beautiful and because looking pleased him. He set the beer bottle and the ice water down on the deck, folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. He felt bathed in the afternoon light. Eyes still closed, he indulged in another sip of beer.<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n A call for dinner woke him. Natalie and Karen had changed out of their suits and into summer clothing. Ted served salmon filets from a platter. They drank white wine.<\/p>\n \u201cThese are delicious,\u201d Karen said, sadly. \u201cWhat\u2019s the marinade?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSun dried tomatoes, garlic, parsley, olive oil.\u00a0 A few other things. It\u2019s nothing sophisticated, but it\u2019s all very fresh.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Karen agreed. \u201cIt\u2019s very, very fresh. I love it.\u201d<\/p>\n After dinner, they sat on the Adirondacks on the deck. They fell into a rhythm of white wine and Craig and Ted\u2019s old college stories: the time with the shopping carts in the dorm, the raid for the economics final, the jailbreak of Tim Duffy from Vanessa Johnson\u2019s room.<\/p>\n Eventually, Karen staggered to her feet and said, \u201cI\u2019ve had too much to drink.\u201d She extended an arm to Craig. \u201cSir.\u201d She thanked the hosts, then let Craig escort her to the guest bedroom on the second story, unlocking arms only to lead him up the spiral stairs. She swung the door shut and splayed onto the bed without undressing. Legs bent at the knees, bare feet up on the spread, she patted the mattress beside her.<\/p>\n When he joined her, she kissed him once, noiselessly. With her face still close to his, she whispered, \u201cYou didn\u2019t really take that public safety car, did you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe parked it right on the rink. Right at center ice.\u201d<\/p>\n She gasped. She kissed him again. \u201cIf I had met you in college would we still have fallen in love?\u201d<\/p>\n Craig thought about it. \u201cMaybe no,\u201d he said. \u201cI was so lost then.\u201d He hiccupped.<\/p>\n \u201cI think we would have,\u201d she said. \u201cAfter all, you\u2019d still be you, and I\u2019d still be me.\u201d She kissed him again, and he kissed her back, and then through giggles she said, \u201cNo, no. Not tonight. Not here. Tomorrow. When we get home. Tomorrow, tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig looked at her like a dog might.<\/p>\n \u201cGo ahead,\u201d she said. \u201cGo play with your friend.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI love you,\u201d she said, laying on her back and looking up at the ceiling fan.<\/p>\n \u201cI love you, too.\u201d<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n Ted was clearing dishes when Craig came downstairs, but he stopped his work and said, \u201cI have cigars.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig said, \u201cI have rum in the car.\u201d<\/p>\n They went down to the dock and lit the cigars and poured the rum into plastic cups. \u201cI haven\u2019t been this drunk in years,\u201d Craig said.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s take out the dingy.\u201d<\/p>\n They paddled out to the center of the lake, and silence fell around them. A splash across the way rippled towards them, then lapped against the dingy. The light of the moon fluttered along the water\u2019s surface. They stood on the boat\u2019s benches and exhaled smoke into the clear sky. Ted took off his shirt and, still wearing his white linen pants, dove into the lake. He hallooed at the night and backstroked away from the boat. He shouted, \u201cIsn\u2019t this perfect?\u201d<\/p>\n Craig nodded.<\/p>\n Ted said, \u201cIf I could stay like this forever.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig nodded again.<\/p>\n Later, trying to retrieve his cigar from the boat, Ted accidentally toppled Craig into the water.<\/p>\n \u201cThe rum!\u201d Ted shouted.<\/p>\n Full of some rum and some air, the plastic bottle bobbed away while the dingy filled with the lake.<\/p>\n \u201cThe boat\u2019s sinking,\u201d Craig said. They both laughed. \u201cWe could drown.\u201d They laughed again.<\/p>\n \u201cMy cigar went out,\u201d said Ted, treading water and sucking on the stump. \u201cLet\u2019s swim in.\u201d<\/p>\n As they swam in and the boat sank, Craig said, \u201cTed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEarlier, I ogled Natalie for a moment. From the second story porch. She didn\u2019t know I was looking. I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s very pretty.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut I love her anyway,\u201d Ted said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou love her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do.\u201d<\/p>\n They kicked in silence for a minute, and then Craig said, \u201cThat\u2019s so good.\u201d<\/p>\n They continued their swim and then, after what seemed like hours, after the point when Craig began to worry if they\u2019d make it, Ted said, \u201cI can touch.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig put his feet to the muck below and said, \u201cMe too.\u201d The earth seemed to rise to meet him, to lift up and fill the spaces between his toes. \u201cWe came to ask you for money.\u201d<\/p>\n With the tips of his fingers, Ted pulled his bangs from his brow and set them back atop his head. He nodded. \u201cI figured.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOur restaurant is broke.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was worried it might be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you knew, why did you still have us?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe haven\u2019t seen each other in so long. Anyway, my money\u2019s gone, too. Into this house and these toys. I can\u2019t help you.\u201d Ted paused to dip his face beneath the water, and when he surfaced, he said, \u201cI keep asking Natalie to marry me, but she won\u2019t say yes, and she won\u2019t say why. I even took her to Paris.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig thought a moment, then said, \u201cBut she\u2019s still here. That must be good.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cListen,\u201d Ted said, \u201cI\u2019ll find a way to get you a loan. There\u2019s always more money.\u201d<\/p>\n Craig wished that he could know, as Ted did, that there would always be more money. The gift of the rich and the sometimes rich was to know that with any certainty. \u201cIt\u2019s okay.\u201d<\/p>\n They slopped to the shore and collapsed. Lying on their backs, gazing upwards, at first all Craig could hear was the huffing of air coming into and going from their chests. As their breathing settled, there then began to emerge the trinkets of nighttime in the wilderness: the tide breaking against rocks, a bird landing on the lake\u2019s surface, a crack of a stick somewhere far off, a hoot from an owl. A breeze, warm and silent, passed through all the trees at once.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are we going to say about the dingy?\u201d Craig asked.<\/p>\n Ted stretched out his arms on either side of him and laughed, and Craig understood that they wouldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n Reprieve Craig suggested that they pretend, for twenty-four hours, as if all the money weren\u2019t already gone. And so having swept and locked up, having balanced the take and seen to the dishes that had been heaped in the sink, he gave the cash\u2014two hundred dollars taken from the register\u2014to Karen, and said, \u201cTreat […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":8422,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1369"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/8422"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1369"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1369\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1392,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1369\/revisions\/1392"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1369"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Christopher Amenta is a writer living in Boston, MA. He is a graduate of the Boston University MFA Fiction Writing program, where he received the Saul Bellow Award and was named a Leslie Epstein Global Fellow. He completed his undergraduate degree at The College of the Holy Cross, where his fiction was recognized with the James H. Reilly Memorial Purse. He teaches creative writing at Boston University, and his writing has appeared in Redivider, Boston College Magazine,<\/em> and Holy Cross Magazine<\/em>. His first novel, Fists Made Loud,<\/em> is forthcoming from Blackstone Publishing in August 2022.<\/h5>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"