Shame

by Julian Tepper

A spring evening in New York and here, once again, piled into Alexander Ames’s bed were Clyde Foreman, Paul Loopy, Phil Owen, Eve Hecht, Emma Beckman—as well as Alexander himself—together now like on most days where they occupied the lunch-table, a corner of the classroom or the steps outside their high school. Emma lay to the right of Alexander, her right arm resting on his leg, her hand opened over his knee. A frail girl with dark hair and a crooked nose, she had on a perfume smelling of sunflowers that her mother had brought home for her just yesterday. She wore a black cashmere sweater and a white skirt, the length of which would have resulted in her dismissal from school. Continue reading “Shame”