Apology by Jon Pineda (books to read this summer .txt) 📕

like Mario. But there was still time, he thought. Time for everything. He could still see Mario’s face as he sat on Tom’s parents’ couch, trying to find the words to explain why he had run away that evening. Why he had let everything unravel as it had. And as for Mario’s uncle, there were no words. That was another kind of burden altogether.

Tom’s mother had made an appointment with a neurologist. His father was showing signs, worsening. Had been for years, now that Tom really considered it. More heartache ahead, of course, but at least his father was still here. As was Teagan.

He had told his mother not to worry; he would go to the center and get her. When he was signing her out for the day, she told him she wanted to see geese. She wanted to see flowers. Tom immediately thought of the botanical gardens near the airport. One could watch planes take off from a viewing platform. Micah would love it, he was sure. There was a field there, too, where Teagan and his son could play. He could watch them both.

Micah ran up and slapped his arm.

“You’re it!”

The boy threw off his windbreaker. Bright as the azaleas in the distance. He grabbed his Aunt Sissy’s hand and the two conspired to get away. There was his sister, and there was his son.

He smiled and unfolded his arms. It felt good to breathe. He laughed, watching their playfulness. Rachel would not have recognized him, not that such a thing mattered. People were allowed to change.

His son had just told him he was “it,” and his only job now was to chase after him. Micah and Teagan separated. There was Teagan running ahead, getting farther away. Micah held his arms out and started whirring across the fresh-cut grass.

Then came a giant shadow rumbling, the sky breaking apart.

Teagan brought her hands up and covered her ears.

They all three did.

Micah was grinning, catching his breath.

Overhead, people were being carried away from the city. Beyond clouds. Tom thought of the model airplanes he and his father had worked hard to put together. The one Tom loved the most, fastened with clear string to a hook on the ceiling of his childhood room.

How often had it simply spun on its own?

If he thought hard, he could remember the way it was. He could still see the string and then not at all. Though he knew it wasn’t gone entirely, woven as it was into a boy’s heart.

acknowledgments

Many people have helped me along the way, and I’m grateful for their presence in my life. If you want to know who the best agent in the world is, I’ll tell you: it’s Terra Chalberg. I’m especially indebted to Daniel Slager for his guidance and enthusiasm. Allison Wigen, Anne Horowitz, and the Milkweed Editions family have been amazing throughout this entire process. Others who’ve been supportive in the creation of this book include Ben Barnhart, Maurice Browne, Oliver de la Paz, Brian Flanary, Sarah Gambito, Fred Leebron, Joseph Legaspi, John Moore, Nick Montemarano, Alan Michael Parker, and the luminous souls at Elliot’s Fairgrounds in Norfolk, where, for countless evenings, I wrote portions of this manuscript. And for my wife, Amy, who waited up for me.

Jon Pineda is the author of the memoir Sleep in Me, a Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers selection and a Library Journal “Best Books of 2010” selection. He is also the author of the poetry collections The Translator’s Diary, winner of the 2007 Green Rose Prize from New Issues Poetry & Prose, and Birthmark, winner of the 2003 Crab Orchard Award Series in Poetry Open Competition. He teaches in the low-residency MFA program at Queens University of Charlotte and lives in Virginia with his family.

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