When we were together, I sometimes imagined that she had died. Maybe a long, painful illness. I’d be sitting up all night, soaking in her fear, rebuffing hospital staff when they tried to banish me at visiting hour’s last tick.
I would be the grieving widow, barer of tragedy, but would hold myself together for the sake of the girls. And in that groggy scenario, it was far easier than it actually has been, given that she merely divorced me, and lives just across town.
About the author: Rich Furman, PhD, is the author or editor of over 15 books, including a collection of flash nonfiction/prose poems, Compañero (Main Street Rag, 2007). Other books include Detaining the Immigrant Other: Global and Transnational Issues (Oxford University Press, 2016), Social Work Practice with Men at Risk (Columbia University Press, 2010), and Practical Tips for Publishing Scholarly Articles (Oxford University Press, 2012). His poetry and creative nonfiction have been published in Another Chicago Magazine, Chiron Review, Sweet, Hawai’i Review, Pearl, Coe Review, The Evergreen Review, Black Bear Review, Red Rock Review, Sierra Nevada Review, New Hampshire Review, Penn Review, and many others. He is professor of social work at University of Washington Tacoma. He is currently a student of creative nonfiction at Queens University’s MFA-Latin America program.