Bear River Review 2007

Bear River Review 2007 The reason the Bear River Writers’ We are delighted to bring you Issue Conference exists is to encourage new 4 of the Bear River Review. We use writing. It only makes sense that we this on-line format as a way of getting do what we can to help some of that the work around to readers as near work find an audience. Here we’ve as Ann Arbor, Michigan and as far created a space for people who have as Swaziland. For those of you new been a part of the conference to share to this site, the review is for writing their writing with their colleagues that resulted from attendance at the and with any other reader who may Bear River Writers’ Conference. The stumble across it. We hope people writers began their work there— enjoy the work and find it helpful with workshopped it there—were inspired their own projects. Enter and have there. And their writing inspires us. some fun!! We thank you, our writers, for making ~Keith Taylor, Director Issue 4 possible and thank you, our readers, for entering this issue. Issues 1, 2, and 3 are also excellent and available for you to peruse. Welcome to the BRR. Enjoy! ~Chris Lord, Editor Note: The work on this site is used with the permission of the authors, who retain all copyright to their own material. 1 Table of Contents Cezarija Abartis Mardi Link arwulf arwulf Chris Lord Sally Bjork Sharon MacDonell Simone Black Vicki McMillan Lee Brooks Sarah Mkhonza Chris Charland Angel Nafis William Corbett Sue Marie Papajesk Joan Donaldson Judy Reid Anne Doran William Reid Joy Gaines-Friedler Bill Roorbach Christopher Giroux Kerry Rutherford Leigh Grant Linda Gregerson Lisa Rye Don Hewlett Melissa Seitz John Hildebidle Susannah Sheffer Zilka Joseph Julie Sommers Jeff Kass Barbara Stark-Nemon Diane Kimball Jessie Stern Elaine Kleiner Ellen Stone Steve Koelsh 2 Julie Stotz-Ghosh Margret Catchick Sturvist Keith Taylor Richard Tillinghast Barry Wallenstein 3 Cezarija Abartis Cezarija Abartis began “Daphne” in Elizabeth Kostova’s 2007 workshop on using the visual arts in fiction. Cezarija teaches English at St. Cloud State University in Minnesota. A collection of her short stories, Nice Girls and Other Stories, won the Minnesota Voices Award and was published by New Rivers Press (2003) at Minnesota State University-Moorhead. In a review on NewPages.com, Sima Rabinowitz writes: “These stories are as good the second time through as they are the first. Always, for me, a measure of success.” ~ Daphne ~ with their drawing pads; there was light at almost nine because it was high summer. Her name was Daphne, though she had little to do with plants and was What was art, she thought, but a an English teacher; and Dr. Byrd’s witness, a memory of the times? name was not Apollo, though he was Memory was the brain of the spe- a doctor and a musician. He re- cies, or maybe it was the heart. Her minded her of her father. They were father would have joked that it was in a visual arts workshop of a dozen the bladder. students on Bear River in Michi- gan. Using acrylic crayons she was Of course she knew the story of sketching the landscape outside the Daphne’s transformation into a laurel window, laying down color as Mr. tree as she fled the attentions of the Gaidas had instructed; Dr. Byrd was sun god. She taught it in the myth sketching the porch railing, its paral- class to her tenth-graders, but in lel vertical bars like a cage. Some of Edith Hamilton’s sanitized version, the class members?many of them art not Ovid’s. Lately, she thought it was teachers themselves?had gone outside about being chased by your memo- 4 ries. Apollo was the Sun god. But sion. That tells you what it is.” He he did shoot arrows of plague at the brought his hand flat down on the ta- Greeks in the Iliad. Maybe he was ble emphatically. “Lillian thought she death pursuing the nymph. had cancer. A naturopath waved a wand over her and told her he sensed A friend’s two-year-old daughter had a tumor. She would not believe me been in a coma for seven weeks after or her own doctor. ‘Physician, heal a car accident and had finally died, thyself,’ she said. Imagine that?to her relieving the family of making the own father.” He lowered his head, decision to withdraw life support. and Daphne wanted to console him Daphne herself felt released when in his grief. “I keep waiting for her the child died. accusatory phone calls. Even now, That’s what she told people at the three years later.” table in the café on the first night “Sometimes holistic healing works,” of the workshop. Her classmates of- Melissa said. She was a young art fered soft murmurs of sympathy. teacher. Judith gave her a disapprov- Dr. Lloyd Byrd had a daughter who ing glance. George said, “I have no shot herself. “Lillian told jokes children, but that loss must be the and riddles when she was a child. worst pain.” ‘Why did the kitty cross the road?’ Lloyd grimaced. “They say trigemi- she asked me, giggling, proud that nal neuralgia is the worst. What do she made up a joke. ‘To get to the they know?” His smile lengthened chicken on the other side.’ She was a and disappeared. happy child. In one photograph she has her hands on her cheeks holding The group walked to the dorm un- in a laugh.” Lloyd pressed his hands der the shining horns of the cres- on either side of his face to show cent moon. Daphne and Lloyd were them. “Lillian had bipolar disorder. at the back. I prefer the old term, manic depres- 5 “You seem sad,” he said. “Let me tell “Let her know you love her.” He pat- you, it can only get worse.” ted her hand gently. “She needs that.” “That’s not very comforting.” He split off from the group, waved, and went to his room on the first “If you wanted comfort, I would say floor of the dorm; Daphne took that the world will not end, or that the steep stairs to the second floor. you will not die, or that you will be She sat on the lower bunk bed and with your loved ones always.” hugged her knees. “My father passed away last month,” The next day in the workshop Lloyd she said. “He was seventy-five.” She pointed at Daphne’s sketch. His sur- bowed her head as she walked under geon’s hands seemed fluid. a low, spreading oak tree. Until then she had imagined her sadness would “Well done,” he said to Daphne as if always be felt from a remove, but this he were the teacher. “Those leaves . breach was abrupt and intimate. a person could get lost in them.” He bowed his head for the tree Daphne had not intended to draw an branch. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m occasion for loss. Mr. Gaidas came sorry for my condescension.” over and said, “Well done.” He picked up her acrylic crayon. “May I?” “My father was old.” “Yes.” “Not as old as some.” He made half a dozen quick lines, They arrived at the dormitory. The chose another crayon, and drew streetlamp lit the front of the build- small circles?put clusters of green ing and, in an optical illusion, made berries at the ends of the twigs. the textured, pocked facade look like the surface of the moon. “My “I like that,” she said. “The round ber- mother’s alive yet.” ries contrast with the serrated leaves.” 6 Mr. Gaidas smiled and pointed She admired Lloyd’s painting. In outside. She followed his index finger it a gray cat curled comfortably on and saw that there were berries out- the edge of an Oriental rug against side the window. “Oh. Yes, good,” the banister of a stairway. There she said. “Thank you.” were flecks of Matisse colors in the cat?blue, orange, green. On the lawn, a black cat froze in the grass, all horizontal concentra- “So you know the story of Daphne?” tion, then continued stalking, but Lloyd asked. “Do you?” it did not pounce. Perhaps the prey She wanted to hear his version and was imaginary and the cat was en- made a noncommittal gesture. joying the movement. Mr. Gaidas glanced out and smiled. “Maybe “Apollo fell in love with her. It’s a you should include Tommy in your sad story.” Behind him night was painting. He was hit by a car, but falling. “He pursued her, she fled look at him now.” him, but you can’t outrun the sun. She was turned into a laurel tree. Her lines were thick, sludgy, and did Everything changes.” not do justice to the sleek, focused cat. “She prayed to her father the river On the next-to-the-last day of the god to be saved, but that transforma- workshop, she thought she was tion was the most he could manage.” getting better at drawing Tommy. Mr. Gaidas praised her sketch, then “You do know the story.” His face was consulted his watch, and declared a that of a teacher proud of his student. short break. “Of course.” The class agreed to stay later to fin- ish up. An aching splinter of moon “And you know Bernini’s sculpture?” shone brilliant in the sky. He did not wait for her to say yes, but continued talking.

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