From: Zuzu
To: Cori
Thank you for the invitation to Amelie’s birthday party. We won’t be able to make it that day, but congratulations to you both on a year of life.
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
No worries! I’m also using the birthday as an impetus to go through Amelie’s dresser and putting together a box of things to give away. Your little one is younger, right? Do you want to look at stuff before we take it to Goodwill?
From: Zuzu
To: Cori
Thank you for the offer, but no, my child is older than Amelie.
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
Why did I think she was younger? It’s so funny that after all this time I still haven’t met your daughter! What are the two of you up to this weekend? We might go to the zoo.
From: Zuzu
To: Cori
May I come by and pick up more milk?
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
I was hoping to tell you this in person, but it’s so hard to find time to meet! Now that Amelie is a year old, I’m trying to cut back on pumping and letting my supply dry up. I have a little bit in the freezer from the last few weeks, but after that I think I won’t have milk to donate anymore. Hopefully we can still find occasional excuses to get together!
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
I saw your post on the forum asking for donor milk—you sound really panicked and I’m sorry for taking you by surprise! I didn’t realize you were running so low. Pardon me for being intrusive, but your daughter must be eating solid food by now, right? It’s probably not healthy for her to subsist on nothing but milk, if she’s more than a year old.
From: Zuzu
To: Cori
It’s not healthy at all.
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
Are you at home right now? Can I bring the last of my milk by, and maybe we can talk?
From: Zuzu
To: Cori
I’m not at home. I’m at the house.
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
I’m worried about you. Stay calm, okay? I’ll be right over.
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
Are you here? I’ve been knocking on the door but no one is answering.
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
I hear someone crying inside. Is that you? Is it your daughter? If you don’t answer the door I’m going to call somebody.
From: Zuzu
To: Cori
Don’t leave. I can’t do this without you. I tried to do it alone but it’s just too hard.
From: Cori
To: Zuzu
Believe me, I understand. You don’t have to be ashamed that you’re struggling. I know how hard raising a baby alone is.
From: Zuzu
To: Cori
You don’t know. But I’ll show you. Stay there. I’m coming.
MISSING WOMAN SUSPECTED OF CHILD ABANDONMENT
Lakeview—Police are searching for Cordelia Kennedy, age 27, who is suspected of abandoning her 1-year-old daughter.
Kennedy, a single mother, has not been seen since she left work on the afternoon of Friday, August 25. Her daughter was found by police in a house several blocks from Kennedy’s residence. Neighbors called police when they heard a child crying from inside the house, which has been unoccupied for more than a year.
Kennedy’s car was found outside the house, but her phone and purse were gone. There was no sign of struggle. The child was unharmed and is in city custody while authorities attempt to find her other family members.
Pictures of Heaven
BEN LOORY
A man decides to paint a picture of Heaven—the idea just comes to him one night. So he goes out and buys a canvas and some paints.
And when the picture’s done, it’s all right.
There are angels with wings, and big white fluffy clouds, and lots of glowing halos, and a harp. And there’s a man on a throne—an old man with a beard—who, one assumes, must be God.
And the man kind of likes it!
But then he tilts his head.
There’s something about the picture that isn’t right.
Hmm, says the man.
He stares at it awhile.
Then he takes a big brush and paints it white.
I’ll do it again tomorrow and it’ll be better, the man says.
He turns out the lights and goes to bed.
But for some reason, he can’t sleep. He lies there in the dark.
Guess I’ll do it better now, he finally says.
So the man gets out of bed and paints another picture. But this time, the picture is even worse. The halos are all crooked and God looks slightly crazed—like a hungry man trying to sell insurance.
Ugh, says the man, and takes a step back.
We’ll try again tomorrow, he says.
He picks up the big brush and paints the canvas white.
And then he turns and goes back to bed.
It takes him a really long time to fall asleep, and when he does, it’s no fun at all. He keeps dreaming that he’s painting terrible pictures of Heaven.
Dammit, get it right! a voice calls out.
So at the crack of dawn, the man gets up and starts to paint again. He doesn’t even have his coffee first.
I gotta get this picture done—and done right! he says.
But the third picture is infinitely worse.
This third picture doesn’t look even a bit like Heaven. It’s all a sickening, flickering shade of red. The angels look enraged, and a few are holding pitchforks.
And God isn’t there—he’s gone away.
Oh God, the man says.
He slashes up the canvas. He balls it up and shoves it in the trash. He breaks up all his brushes, pours the paints straight down the drain.
It’s okay, he says. It’s all alright!
I just have to not paint any more pictures, he says.
Okay, he says. Time to take a walk.
He opens up the front door and heads off down the street.
What a nice day! he says.
But something’s off.
Yes, the sky is blue, and yes, the sun is out, and yes, there are birds in the air.
