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ABSTRACT BEFORE WE REACH THE END This novel follows young tenacious Sybil as she navigates her traumatic past, and tumultuous present. Beginning in 1989 Tucson, AZ, Sybil contemplates her identity as a daughter through the lens of a motherless child. The story transitions to her present adolescence where she challenges her expectations of herself, as well as her role as a sister, friend, and daughter. Through her humorous voice which counteracts the overwhelming grief she experiences, we learn about love and loss, friendships and relationships, and the blurring of in-between moments where every end is a beginning, and every beginning, an end. Samantha Kim Rogers May 2017 BEFORE WE REACH THE END by Samantha Kim Rogers A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing in the College of Arts and Humanities California State University, Fresno May 2017 APPROVED For the Department of English: We, the undersigned, certify that the thesis of the following student meets the required standards of scholarship, format, and style of the university and the student's graduate degree program for the awarding of the master's degree. Samantha Kim Rogers Thesis Author Steven Church (Chair) English Corrinne Hales English John Beynon English For the University Graduate Committee: Dean, Division of Graduate Studies AUTHORIZATION FOR REPRODUCTION OF MASTER’S THESIS I grant permission for the reproduction of this thesis in part or in its entirety without further authorization from me, on the condition that the person or agency requesting reproduction absorbs the cost and provides proper acknowledgment of authorship. X Permission to reproduce this thesis in part or in its entirety must be obtained from me. Signature of thesis author: ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would first like to express my sincere gratitude to Steven Church, my committee chair, teacher, and friend for all the time and energy he put into reading, critiquing, and encouraging my work. I would also like to thank the amazing Connie Hales for always picking up on the nuances of writing as a woman about women and for encouraging me. Her creative genius and feedback made this project what it is. Also, many thanks to John Beynon who always made me laugh and provided much feedback and support. Thank you to everyone on the MFA team for their indispensable work, especially: Randa Jarrar, John Hales, Tim Skeen, and Jefferson Beavers. To all my peers in the program for your friendship, support, and encouragement. It meant the world to me. In particular, “The Breakfast Club”: Alysha H., Sam 2.0, Eddie G. for all the office dreaming, coffee breaks, and moments in between. To Tricia S., Mia, Jackie H., Kamilah O., and Monique Q. for being bad-boss-ladies who always inspired me, and continue to do so. Last, I want to thank my amazing family. To my Dad who gave me everything. My sister who has been through it all with me. My brother-in-law Russ Russ who always makes me laugh. My grandma and granddad. To the whole of the Kozimor family who took me in as their own. Finally, I would like to express my profound gratefulness to my amazing husband who thinks I’m hilarious and has always supported my endeavors. TABLE OF CONTENTS Page PART ONE: LET’S START AT THE BEGINNING ............................................. 1 Prologue ............................................................................................................ 2 Chapter One: Goodbye, My 1989 ..................................................................... 3 Chapter Two: A Mild Pain .............................................................................. 18 Chapter Three: The Tacos Were Magic .......................................................... 26 Chapter Four: I Am a Sybil ............................................................................. 32 Chapter Five: A Weird January ...................................................................... 38 Chapter Six: A Poet, Hibiscus Flower, and Kiss ............................................ 45 Chapter Seven: A Shift in the Frame .............................................................. 50 Chapter Eight: Silence..................................................................................... 58 Chapter Nine: In Defense of God ................................................................... 65 PART TWO: THE MOMENTS INBETWEEN .................................................... 69 Chapter Ten: Monsters, 1998 .......................................................................... 70 Chapter Eleven: The Monsters That Come Calling ........................................ 76 PART THREE: THE BEGINNING OF THE END ............................................... 81 Chapter Twelve: Unidentified Flying Objects ................................................ 82 Chapter Thirteen: The End .............................................................................. 88 The beginning of the end can feel a lot like the middle when you are living it. -- Karen Russell, Swamplandia PART ONE: LET’S START AT THE BEGINNING Prologue The day my dad died the garbage truck ran by our house at 7:46 AM. Just like it did every Monday morning in the month of March. My sister and I had forgotten to put out the trash bin, the same way we had forgotten to put in out for the last three weeks. So the trash was overflowing with fast food bags and wrappers, dirty paper towels that were coated in nose blood, and empty medicine bottles. I was asleep in my dad’s bed, because he was at the hospital when my sister called me at 2:19 AM. “The nurse says you better get down here. They don’t think he has much longer.” She said. I rubbed my eyes and said, “Okay, can you come get me?” “Grandma’s heading over now.” I hung up the phone and slipped on my jeans, and a hoodie in the darkness. Tangles of my hair fell on my face, catching in the sweat produced on my forehead. My chucks sat on the tile of the entryway where little drops of blood had coagulated four nights earlier. The drops that fell on the tile before we got him out the door and to the emergency room were because I hadn’t been able to stop the nose bleed. If I start at the beginning, it is only fair I tell you about the end—that is—it is where he and I, and she and I, and she and him, where we all said goodbye. I guess, it all felt like it was about these ends. But they were also beginnings, and beginnings of ends. And if we had been honest with each other, it was about saying goodbye; and how hard it was to say goodbye, but how easy it was to find ourselves suddenly in that moment that was just the beginning. So let's start at the beginning, where I'll tell you about saying goodbye.... 3 3 Chapter One: Goodbye, My 1989 I don't remember when she left because it was 1989 and I was four. And it happened somewhere in between the toasted Arizona sand burning my toes, sticky grape Popsicles on my face and hands, and my sister Livy turning nine. But Livy doesn't talk about it, and her not talking about it tells me it was bad. Daddy won't talk about her, and him not talking about her tells me it was heartbreaking. Sometimes I sneak into his room when he's at work. He has an old briefcase that sits high in the closet. I'll climb up there and pull down that old leather briefcase. It's coated in dust and smells rank as hell. I have to be careful when I pop it open because if I leave marks then Dad will know one of us has been snooping. There is no forgiveness for someone who’s been snooping and violated his privacy. That's what Dad says, anyways. The old Bronco is silver and blue. I watch dad pull out of the drive way, my chubby nine-year old fingers pressing hard against the window pane. Breath clouding the glass, making it hard for me to see him or my reflection. And I can hear Livy downstairs watching TV; she's supposed to be watching me because Daddy's working the late shift, but she's is on the phone with her teammate Ashley, trying to convince her to come over. They play basketball together and she'll only need to ask once before Ashley says yes and brings all the older boys who smell like sweat and vodka over. I lay down on the bed, flat on my back, when I know Dad's truck is gone and the window pane is too foggy to make sense of anything anymore. I wait, because I know when Ashley gets here she is going to come up to my room and tell me to stay in my room and not come downstairs. That she and Livy are having a couple friends come over and that I need to behave. She knocks once before she pops her head in and says, “Hey.” 4 4 I look at her and notice her eyes are already glassy and soft, and that her chest has filled out in the last few months. And she's wearing a tight shirt, a change from the tomboy clothing her and Livy usually wear. I like her because she's always looking out for me, and Livy. And nobody says it, but looking out for Livy is a hard thing to do. “Stay in here. Okay, Sybil?” She says. I nod. She closes the door. The stairs squeal every time she moves and her weight presses down. She's looking out for me because she knows that if I go down stairs while the boys are here one of them might make me to do something I don't want to do, or something like that. Ashley says, “Livy is just trying to impress people. Make new friends and stuff,” but sometimes, sometimes, when Livy has had one to many beers and she's in a bad mood, she'll look at me, give me that look like when I come around asking about Mom. And then I know—I know I'm in for it. But this time I don't plan on going downstairs. I push myself up off the bed and go to the door.

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