
Nicole stared at the blue water in the pool. It was so wet and so blue—Virgin Mary blue. It was so hot in Texas, she thought that over and over, ever since her parents moved the family to Fort Worth for her dad’s job.
They were living at the Naval Air Station. It was 1965 and they did not have air conditioning in their apartment: with its one bathroom, two parents and four kids. The heat was an animal. To escape it she played in the mud between the buildings. This was nothing like the woods of New Hampshire, but here they were and they weren’t going home—maybe ever. That’s what her mother said.
Continue reading “Virgin Mary Blue: A short story by Marie Cartier”
