About the Author
boice-Terrel Allen holds degrees from both the University of Pittsburgh and New York University's Graduate School of Journalism. He is a 2002 winner of grants from MCAI (Multicultural Arts Initiative) and the Pittsburgh Foundation. He is also a 2001 recipient of an Archie D. and Bertha H. Walker Foundation Scholarship to attend a fiction workshop at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown. Currently, he's editing an anthology of fiction and poetry by multicultural writers and working on a collection of short stories.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Why would anyone want to kill me? When I can just do it myself. Of course, I say this in hindsight. Laying in a bed in the suicide ward of Mercy Hospital; the stigma of a suicide attempt firmly attached to me like an upspeakable blemish. When I came to, I saw the veil of judgment on the faces of every caretaker. That's what I believed. You would think the routine of working with suicide patients would produce apathy. But their expressions were no different than that of my husband's. I opened my eyes to Marshall and hastily shut them to avoid that horrible expression of, How could you? With my eyes closed, I could still perceive it. I wanted to ask where our son was. But Jacob was either too young to be allowed in such a place or Marshall was simply protecting him from his mother: the quitter. I assumed that he explained that Mommy was in a special hospital where only adults were allowed. At age seven, this was age appropriate and just. But even though it's for his own good, I still wanted to hold him. To feel him nuzzle his small face in the crook of my arm. He's too young, I know. But if he was there, at that moment, I know he wouldn't have worn that look his father couldn't remove from his face.
I left no note. So of course Marshall didn't understand. No one did. But it wasn't what it looked like. He thought I had everything to live for and couldn't fathom why I would do such a thing. But I don't think he ever knew what I had to live for. No, that's not entirely true. I believe he knew in the beginning. Before we were married, when we were dating.