“Orphans” by Christy Stillwell (fiction ’14)

Orphans

During the service, Josh suffered. His wool jacket was fine for Denver summers but not Nashville in August. Under the weight of his seven-year- old daughter, Grace, he could feel the heat trapped under his arms, down his back, and on his chest and stomach. Looking around, he seemed to be the only one in such a state. The club was air-conditioned. Not one person used the program as a fan. Not one jacket removed. When he lived here, years ago now, nobody seemed to mind the heat but him. Josh came from the north to play football for Vanderbilt. He turned out to be a disappointment, largely, he believed, due to the heat.

Next to him Patsy sat with their youngest on her lap. Tully was fast asleep, draped over her mother like a poncho. Patsy was a Nashville native, though she lost her accent after college. Never teased her hair, no jewelry and very little makeup. Her Aunt Lucy had already told her several times that she looked like she was dying, which only meant she was fit. The Tegels were a big family. A big deal in Nashville, and physically big. Back when he met them, Josh’s size was his ticket in. He was six-two and filled doorways. Plus, he was a football player. The Tegels liked football. And they liked Vandy. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t any good; they told him so all the time.

[… continue reading “Orphans” at Hypertext Magazine.]