The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Clare Sestanovich Reads Alice Munro

The New Yorker: Fiction

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Is Nicola Not Wanting to See Me Half the Time?

Pregnancy made me sleepy and the night feedings and the west coast rain falling. We had become a cartoon couple, more middle aged in our twenties than we would be in middle age. Those bumbling years of the years are children will remember all their lives. Corners of the yard I never visited will stay in their heads. In the morning Don and Judith left for Mexico,. I decided I wanted to see somebody who wasn't related to me and who didn't expect anything in particular for me. I called an old lover of mine, but his phone was answered by a machine. This is Tom Shepherd speaking. Please record your message, name and number.

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