Midnight at the Dragon Cafe
I felt sorry for her, so unsuspecting as she stepped into this family, filled with its secrets, conducting hidden conversations
The Secret Life of Bees
The world will give you that once in a while, a brief timeout; the boxing bell rings and you go to your corner, where somebody dabs mercy on your beat-up life.
When I walked behind August in my bee veil, I felt like a moon floating behind a night cloud.
The night seemed like an inkblot I had to figure out. I sat there and studied the darkness, trying to see through it to some sliver of light.
Danger, I realized, was a thing you got used to.
It seemed like I was now thinking of Zach forty minutes out of every hour, Zach, who was an impossibility. That’s what I told myself five hundred times; impossibility. I can tell you this much: the word is a great big log thrown on the fires of love.
Every human being on the face of the earth has a steel plate in his head, but if you lie down now and then and get still as you can, it will slide open like elevator doors, letting in all the secret thoughts that have been standing around so patiently, pushing the button for a ride to the top.
And that’s how she left me, standing in the kitchen, hot and breathless, the world tilted under me.
I watched him, filled with tenderness and ache, wondering what it was that connected us. Was it the wounded places down inside people that sought each other out, that bred a kind of love between them.
I don’t know if that’s what he wanted to ask me, but it’s something everybody wants–for someone to see the hurt done to them and set it down like it matters.
I was afraid, though, the blame would fine a way to stick to them. That’s how blame is.
I leaned back in my chair, gazing at the sky, how endless it was, the way it fit down over the world like the lid of a hive.
There was a place inside him now that hadn’t been there before. Heated, charged, angry. Coming into his presence was like stepping up to a gas heater, to a row of blue fire burning in the dark, wet curve of his eyes.
Twice I walked into a spider,s web, feeling the fine, transparent threats across my face, and Iiked them there. A veil spun from the night.
I stared at them a minute, wondering how a person got attached to mouse bones. I decided sometimes you just need to nurse something, that’s all.