Someday I’ll Love Chris Haven
The man lives in a house packed with stuff. It’s a small house but he needs a map to find the simplest thing. He never knows, for example, where the bicycle pump is. So one day when he needed the bicycle pump, he found it after hours of looking and when he was done using the pump, hid it in his closet. Now he has done this with scissors and masking tape and the smallest flashlight in the house. On some of these things he’s written his name, or the name that his family associates with him. He can always find his family. One day he goes searching for the littlest one and finds her right away. He tells her to stay right where she is and goes looking for the middle one, who is always harder to find but the kitchen proves a good place. He tells that one to stay right there and goes looking for the oldest one. The oldest one is also easy to find but this time he’s not behind his door. The man looks in the yard and immediately gives up because those were his only two ideas. He goes back to the kitchen and the middle one is no longer there. Instead of looking for the middle one the man makes a cheese sandwich, and with a full mouth he calls for the little one. She comes running immediately and he gives her a sandwich which she takes happily. You’ll never leave me, will you, says the man. She takes his hand and leads him outside where they sit down in the grass and finish their sandwiches. He closes his eyes and still feels he’s holding her hand.
Chris Haven’s prose appears or is forthcoming in Denver Quarterly, North American Review, Electric Literature, and Kenyon Review. He teaches writing at Grand Valley State in Michigan. This story’s title owes a debt to Frank O’Hara, via Roger Reeves.
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