When I Was Twenty-one

twenty oneIn the end she stayed in her ratty white bathrobe, strummed her guitar all day, smoked cigarettes, ate apple pie from the box, quit taking showers. The 1770 House Inn had no central heating. She went to New Jersey to see her mother. She said she’d be back, but we both knew she wouldn’t. I kept a fire in the fireplace, slept in my clothes on top of the blankets so I never had to make the bed. Electricity and water were shut. I went to the frozen beach and drank at night and stared at the stars and waited.


Dan Sklar teaches writing at Endicott College in Massachusetts. Recent publications include The Harvard Review, New York Quarterly, Ibbetson Street Press, and The Art of the One-Act. His one act play “Lycanthropy” was produced at the Boston Theatre Marathon in 2012 and was reviewed in The Boston Globe.

Photo credit: Elise Roedenbeck

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