 When I first entered the program two and a half years ago, I was all excited. I rode the train from Baltimore, bright-eyed with my Baltimore Orioles hat on and my little backpack filled with my thousand-page novel. I hopped out of the van and on to Enders Island, feeling such joy with my new friends. I went... Not funny. I went over to Michael White and he shook my hand and he said the four words that instantly deflated my over-inflated balloon. He looked at my O's hat and said, and I quote, I'm a Yankees fan. My friends, I consider myself a tolerant man. I have befriended radical Republicans. I have embraced old communists. I've even had discourse with diehard jihadists. But a Yankees fan is asking a bit much. Anyway, I will try to put that unsavory aspect of an otherwise decent man aside. Michael White is the author of 45 or so published stories and six novels. A brother's blood, a blind side of the heart, dream of wolves, garden of martyrs, beautiful assassin and soul catcher. Which as most of you know is about a southern slave catcher who takes off on a sort of an antebellum road trip with some rather unsavory characters in search of a beautiful runaway slave. When I first read the summary on the flap, I thought, how on earth is this 21st century Yankees fan from Connecticut going to write about a 19th century slave catcher? And I must confess, he pulled it off. In the character of Augustine Cain, he captured the complexities of a down-and-out southern gambler and slave catcher. And I tried, but I was unable to find any fault in his characters. So, I started looking at geography. I know every ridge and creek and battlefield between Harrisburg P.A. and Harpers Ferry, between Baltimore and Cumberland, Maryland. And I will say that he got every single wrinkle of the land perfect. Every nuance of this book rings true and shows both sides of a rather difficult period in our spotty history. By the end of the first chapter, I was absolutely convinced this damn Yankee can probably write. Ladies and gentlemen, Michael White. I am a still Yankees fan. I'm still a Connecticut Yankee and I faked all that. So, forget about all my research stuff. Thank you, Fred. That was great. What I decided to read tonight, but before I do that, I'd like to dedicate this reading to all the students I've had in the NBA. The students I've had in the MFA over the last six years. So, I want to thank you, and this is for you. Just a brief setup. I decided to read, not the new novel I was writing about Germany in 1936, but from a novel I finished a while ago called Resting Places. It won the 2014 testing prize and it'll be published sometime next year, this year. It's about a middle-aged woman named Elizabeth who lost her 21-year-old son, Luke, in a car accident during a cross-country car trip, another road trip. He died in New Mexico, though he had told his mother and father that he was heading out to San Francisco. I need to set up a little bit because I'm reading from the middle of the novel, Chapter 11. Elizabeth has had lots of questions about the facts surrounding her son's death, including inconsistencies in the police report, as well as the fact that Luke called her on the night of the accident and said he needed to talk to her about something presumably important. She didn't take the call because she was with her lover that night, which, as you can imagine, just compounds the situation and adds a great deal in addition to her confusion, a great deal of guilt to the situation. She has spent the past year since her son's death, drinking too much, pulling away from her husband, Zach, and obsessing about the accident. She has tried to piece together where he went on his trip using credit card receipts and reviewing his phone records and calling people he contacted and might have talked to in his last few days. Based on a chance encounter with a stranger she met along the highway, and that's the chapter I read a couple of years ago, Elizabeth has decided to drive cross-country, following the route her son took out to Mexico, hoping to understand more about her son's death. She's also stopping at various discansos, which is the Spanish word for resting places, and those are those roadside memorials that you see everywhere. The last few years of her life, she and Luke had not been at odds. He had been distant and moody and sullen. And as chapter 11 opens, she has been on this road trip for a couple of days, and she had left in the middle of the night. She leaves from Connecticut, right around this area, in fact. The previous night to this chapter from the motel room where she stayed, Elizabeth had a troubling conversation with her husband Zach about Luke's death, bringing up a new and troubling possibility that has recently occurred to her based on her trip. What if the accident wasn't an accident? What if he had meant to end his life? Zach told her such an idea was crazy. Why couldn't she just accept that their son's death was simply something that happened without a sinister purpose or darker meaning? In passing, he casually mentioned to Elizabeth that their son had seen his ex-girlfriend, TJ, that summer, and he had mentioned it to the father, and Zach mentions it to his wife. As the chapter opens, she is leaving the motel room and getting ready to continue her journey. Chapter 11, resting places. The storm, having spent its fury, the morning stretched out with a haggard and introspective demeanor, like one waking after a debauched night of revelry. Leaves and branches littered the road, debris was thrown over the parking lot, and up near the motel office, a garbage can lay overturned, a tree of brazen crows gorging themselves on its contents. As Elizabeth opened her car door, they took off, squawking vociferously. Stuck to the windshield was a newspaper flyer. She had to peel off like the skin of an onion. She picked up the highway and continued west. Her conversation with Zach the previous night returned to her. You're grasping at straws, he said. Perhaps she was. Perhaps all of this was just a matter of grasping at straws. She thought too of what he told her about Luke seeing TJ that summer. Had her son started dating her again? There was that one brief phone call Luke had made to TJ while he was on the trip. It was odd that these seemingly inconsequential and desperate facts surrounding her son appeared to have such significance now, such import and nuance. They were like the dots she felt she needed to connect in order to understand the picture surrounding his death. Elizabeth warned herself not to do what she was contemplating, but lately she hadn't heeded her own warnings. Lately warnings seemed made for others. She felt reckless and irresponsible. Her only law being whatever would illuminate Luke's end. She took her outer cell phone and looked up TJ's number. After several rings, the young woman's familiar voice came on. Hi, this is Tess. I'm not here right now but leave a message and I'll call you back. Ciao. Elizabeth was surprised to hear her user first name instead of her initials. In fact, she wasn't even sure what the J stood for. She had always just been TJ. The voice brought back a painful flood of memories of the girl who used to sit in the den with Luke, eating pizza, watching TV or studying for a test with her son. Her girlish laughter fluttering in the air, filling the house with joy. She missed TJ. Missed even more how her son used to act when he was around her. Happy, carefree, vibrant with life. Elizabeth hadn't seen the girl in nearly two years. She'd run into TJ's mother at the dry cleaners in town a few months before. It was an awkward meeting. They both smiled too much and Mrs. Pearson acted as if Elizabeth was 80 and hard of hearing. She spoke too loudly and rest her hand patronizingly on Elizabeth's wrist. When Elizabeth asked how TJ was doing, the woman said her daughter had gotten a job up in Boston at the Fine Arts Museum. Now when it came time to leave a message, Elizabeth thought, No, this is all wrong. Why disturb the poor kid needlessly bringing up such past sorrow? Elizabeth hung up without saying anything. That day she drove the length of Tennessee, a seemingly endless parallelogram of rolling hills, cattle and horse farms, shimmering lakes dotted with homes, and massive tourist signs advertising the likes of forbidden caverns, Opryland, Graceland, Gatlinburg, the Johnny Cash Museum, the Jack Daniels Distillery, and Baptist Church after Baptist Church. One sign in particular caught her attention. Set off the highway along a sloping pasture populated by black Angus cattle, it proclaimed simply inexplicably, when you die, you will see God. Beneath the words appeared what seemed to be a spiky red EKG line, jumping up and down with life until finally flat lighting under God's name, presumably indicating death. Like the life insurance sign she'd seen the first night on the road, this one too seemed a hard sell technique of the most overbearing kind, though she wasn't sure what was being marketed other than simple fear. She passed signs for small towns with hoaking sounding names like Crab Orchard, Helen's Gap, Carthage Junction, Horse Corners, Bear Hollow. She listened to the lulling twang of more country stations while drinking Red Bull to stay awake and munching on trail mix. Around two she stopped and filled up with gas and bought a dry as cardboard sandwich at a convenience store to blunt the dull call of hunger. The storm had ushered in its way cooler, drier weather. She could smell the change in the air, a clean sharp odor like ammonia. Sometime later she found herself passing through a broad valley framed by low humpback hills in the distance and immediately on either side of the interstate, green pastures plowed over fields an occasional stand of pine woods. Twilight was coming on fast. Some cars in the opposite lane already had their lights on and she was reminded to turn hers on as well. She thought again of what Zach had told her, how Luke had seen TJ that summer. Maybe the girl had some inkling of where her son's mind was, what he was thinking before he died. Elizabeth decided not to heed her earlier warning. If there was a slightest chance TJ could shed some light on her son, she would take it. She didn't want to leave any stone unturned. So she called again and got the recording. This time though she left a message. Hi TJ, she said. She didn't use text, that wasn't the girl she knew. It's Mrs. Girlacre, Luke's mom. How are you? She paused for a moment then added, do you think you could call me when you get a chance? Perhaps if she hadn't been on the phone, perhaps if she'd been paying more attention to the present, instead of poking around in the cluttered debris of the past, she'd have seen it a second earlier and had a chance to swerve out of the way to avoid the unavoidable. A sudden streak of brownish gray appeared just ahead and off to her right in the headlights periphery. It had bolted from some woods near the shoulder of the highway and appeared to fly effortlessly into the tunnel of her headlights. It was upon her, or rather her sob and the brownish gray object seemed to meet at the intersection of their respective trajectories as if there had been some intentionality to their separate movements and unstated agreement to be joined at exactly that point in time and space. Elizabeth felt helpless, didn't have the slightest chance to do anything. Hit the brakes, swerve, tense herself for the impact, utter a sound. There was a nauseating thwunk sound. A deep bone breaking clatter as the deer's left flank collided with the right front of Elizabeth's car. She felt a jolt in her shoulder blades, then felt herself being thrown forward and her nose slamming into the steering wheel. She actually saw stars, like in the cartoons, little white pieces of light dancing in front of her eyes. In the next moment, not so much in slow motion, as in a series of distinct still frames, the creature was first suspended upside down over the hood of the car, antlers pointing earthward, then flattened against the windshield with an ear splitting. And finally, in the rear view, lying crumpled along the shoulder of the road. This all happened so fast, Elizabeth hadn't even had time to be frightened. Looking through a windshield, it now appeared as if glazed over with a thick sheet of ice. She instinctively tried to steer the car toward the shoulder, toward a shoulder of the road she couldn't see. Even then, she could tell something was terribly wrong. The steering wheel fought her like some sort of headstrong beast, felt as if it wanted to keep the car going straight on down the highway, and she had to use all her strength to bend the wheel to her will. When she'd finally managed to pull the car to a bumpy stop on the shoulder, she sat there for a moment trembling, her heart wrapping fiercely in her chest. Now she had time to be afraid. Damn, she cried at last. Recovering her wit, she got out and stood her head spinning slightly, then went around to the front of the car. With the light from her phone, she saw that the right front fender was stove-in, the bumper and grille crumpled, the headlights smashed, and the assembly dangling like in a nucleated eye. Her car appeared as if it had tangled with a Mack truck, rather than a single frightened deer. It was only then that she became aware of a throbbing in her head. She reached up and touched the bridge of her nose. The nose itself was mostly numb, but when she removed her hand or fingers or cover with something slippery and dark, she was bleeding. Walking back to the car, she glanced up the highway and saw in the headlights of the oncoming traffic the still lifeless form of the deer lying stretched out along the shoulder. She thought of heading back and seeing to the poor creature, though viewing its broken and bleeding form up close would probably be the last straw. She couldn't bear that. So instead, she got in her car, avoided looking in the rear view mirror. God, what would she give for the pint of cutty sark to be waiting for her in the glove compartment right now? She dialed a triple-A number. I just hit a deer she's exclaimed to the operator, shaking. First things first, the woman said. She had a high-pitched, twangy accent and the smoker's raspy voice. Are you all right, ma'am? Mostly, yes. Is the vehicle drivable? I don't think so. I don't know. The operator took Elizabeth's information and where the accident occurred. And then she told her she'd had someone out there as soon as possible. But we're awful busy tonight, ma'am. I'm on account of the storm yesterday. I'm out in the middle of nowhere, Elizabeth explained to the woman. And it's going to be dark soon. Like I said, we'll have somebody out there as soon as we can, the woman advised. In the meantime, you all want to lock your doors and stay in the car and don't talk to strangers. Don't talk to strangers, Elizabeth thought, as she hung up. Yet she went ahead and locked the doors and sat way up in the seat to look formidable to any would-be attacker. For companies, she listened to the radio. When Freddy Fender's wasted days and wasted nights came on, Elizabeth couldn't fail to appreciate the irony. She'd been waiting there for nearly an hour when her cell finally rang. Jesus, it's about time she cried, ready to give the toke truck guy a piece of her mind. This is Girlacre, a hesitant female voice replied. Immediately she recognized it. Oh, TJ, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else. How are you, Miss Girlacre? I'm fine, Elizabeth replied. Well, not so fine, actually. I've just been in a car accident. Oh, my goodness, are you okay? Yeah, I just hit a gear. I'm waiting for the tow truck. The conversation struck Elizabeth as peculiar. He or she just killed a deer, was stranded along some highway in Tennessee. While she was talking to her dead son's girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, can I do anything, TJ asked, and call anybody for you? No, I think I'm all set. The tow truck should be here any minute. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. Your mom says you're living in Boston now. Yes, working at the Fine Arts Museum. That sounds exciting, Elizabeth said. Not really. Not unless you consider a leading first grade tourist exciting, she said with a self-deprecating laugh. The laugh was so familiar. Elizabeth had an image of her sitting on the couch with her son. Her sandy blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail, her hand touching Luke's flannel-shirtered arm. The first girl her son lived, perhaps the only girl. Still, it's a start, and Boston's a great city to live in, Elizabeth offered. It's a lot more exciting than Gar's Point. Another laugh to which Elizabeth joined in nervously. Laughing caused her nose to ache. You go by test now, huh? Yeah, sort of. It sounds more professional, but you still can call me test. So how are you? I'm good, the young woman replied, busy. This was followed by a pause, awkward and weighty, which made Elizabeth wonder if you were debating whether or not to tell her something. Finally, TJ blurred out. I'm engaged. Oh, Elizabeth exclaimed, feeling a shock, akin to cutting oneself with chopping vegetables. That moment of utter surprise followed a few seconds later by the stabbing pain. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but it did. Another death, as if yet another part of Luke, a piece of the future, had just been erased. She recalled then how the girl's mother, it seemed evasive when TJ had been brought up. Had she not wanted to be the one to tell her about engagement? Elizabeth managed to recover quickly, though. That's wonderful. Anyone from town? No, I met him in college. Greg, that's his name. Wow, congratulations. So when's the big day? We haven't set a date yet. We're not in any rush. No sense in rushing into things, Elizabeth said. That's great news. I'm so happy for you, as she was. Happy for her, that is. She'd always loved TJ, like a daughter, in fact, the one she'd never had. But in the next moment, Elizabeth found herself wondering just where that had left TJ and Luke. Zach had said they'd gotten together several times the summer before their senior year, the summer Luke died. Had this future husband of hers, this Greg, Ben in the picture then? Had TJ been considering getting back together with Luke and it was only his death that put an end to their renewed relationship and allowed her to begin another one? Elizabeth could recall how devastated TJ appeared at the funeral. How much Luke's death seemed to affect her. How tragic that would have been if they'd finally gotten together, back together again, only to be separated by his sudden death. And now TJ, her one-time future daughter-in-law, the potential mother of her grandchildren, was going to marry someone else. Elizabeth had all she could do not to start bawling. She cleansed her jaw. Don't, she said to herself, don't put that on TJ. It wasn't her fault. God, what was she thinking, contacting the girl? Elizabeth contemplated making up some excuse for not wanting to talk, for wanting to talk. Perhaps saying she was simply interested in finding out what TJ was doing. After all, the girl had been such a large part of her son's life, not to mention hers and Zach's for so many years. But then again, Elizabeth had to admit she was curious. If TJ and Luke had started to date again, why hadn't he spoke to his mother? And if something had started up again between the two, perhaps it was somehow related to what he had wanted to tell Elizabeth that night. More dots to be connected, more pieces of the puzzle. The reason I called, I wanted to ask you something about Luke, as he said. Sure, Mrs. Gerlacker. The night he died, he called me. He left a message on my phone saying he had something important he wanted to talk about. But unfortunately, we never got the chance. Oh, that's terrible. Yes, it has been, not knowing what he wanted. That's why I called you. I thought you might have some clue. Outside on the highway, the traffic roared by. Elizabeth's car shuddering in the wake of every vehicle that passed. The noise making it sometimes difficult to hear TJ's soft voice. Me, TJ said. I mean, you and Luke were so close. Well, we were, but not for a while. Hadn't the two of you started seeing each other again? What? My husband said Luke told him that the two of you had gone out a few times that summer. We didn't really go out, Mrs. Gerlacker. We saw each other a few times, hung out a little together as friends. So you two weren't back together? Me and Luke? She replied with a fluttery little laugh that struck Elizabeth as condescending? No. Elizabeth touched her nose and felt blood on her fingers cool and slippery to the touch. May I ask you a personal question? Sure. I guess so, TJ said, but her tone was tented. You and Luke always seemed so good together, Elizabeth said. I even thought you guys get married someday. Me too, Mrs. Gerlacker. Then what happened? TJ was silent for a moment, yet over the noise of the highway, Elizabeth thought she caught a faint sniffling sound coming from the other end of the phone. I'm sorry, TJ, Elizabeth offered. I probably shouldn't have brought it up. No, it's all right. It's just that I get so sad whenever I think about Luke. I really liked him. Then like an unwelcome confession for which he felt guilty, she added, loved him, actually. And he really loved you, TJ. Not really. What do you mean, not really? He loved me as a friend, TJ said. As a friend? My God, Luke was head over heels about you. No, Mrs. Gerlacker. It was the other way around. I was the one crazy about your son. Always was, ever since like sixth grade. Right then, Elizabeth heard the intrusive beeping of another phone call. Could you hold for a minute, TJ? That's probably a tow truck, of course. Hello, Elizabeth said to the other caller. Ma'am, our truck is running a little late. The same woman's voice drawled. You're all ready. You'll be there just as soon as you can. Elizabeth, click back to TJ. Sorry about that. I'm a little confused, TJ. If you were so crazy about my son, why did you break up with him? Me, she said, her voice incredulous. Luke was the one who didn't want to go out anymore. But I was under the impression you didn't want to go out with him. That you wanted to date other people. Who told you that? Luke. That's not true, Mrs. Gerlacker. He was the one who broke it off with me. God, I cried for weeks. Elizabeth sat there from home trying to digest the information. She felt the dull throbbing emanating from where she'd hit her nose, radiating back into her skull. It seemed to pulsate there like another heartbeat. Why would Luke have lied to her? Why didn't you want her to know that he was the one who initiated the breakup? It didn't make sense. She thought of simply dropping the whole thing, saying goodbye to TJ, wishing her luck in her new life and letting the past sink down into oblivion. Instead, though, Elizabeth asked, why would he lie to me like that, TJ? I don't know, Mrs. Gerlacker. But it's so odd. Yes, it is. So you're saying Luke ended it? That's right. Elizabeth's phone rang again, but this time she decided not to get it. Why do you think he did that, TJ? I really don't know, Mrs. Gerlacker. But it doesn't really matter now, does it? Elizabeth knew she was right. It was what Zach had been telling her all along. What good would knowing any of this be now? They were kids. They'd split up. What was the big deal? Who broke up with whom? Elizabeth shivered, feeling suddenly cold. It was completely dark out now and sitting there on the side of the highway. She felt helpless and vulnerable. Felt like that time, they temporarily lost sleep in Wales during their vacation. As if at the mercy of unknown and hostile forces. Stopped, she warned herself, before it's too late. But something in her, a need both perverse and yet inexorable, compelled her forward. It matters to me, TJ. I don't think he was interested, she said, pausing, in having a relationship anymore. You mean with you? With anyone, really. I felt Luke pulling away for a long while. Was it somebody else, Elizabeth said, another girl? I don't think so. He didn't seem to be interested in women anymore, not in that way. In what way, Elizabeth said, feeling a hot pressure, building in her throat? Sexually, TJ said. What are you saying, TJ? He didn't seem to be interested in me in that way. Are you saying that my son was gay? I'm not sure. What do you mean you're not sure, Elizabeth cried anger and bewilderment, leaching into her voice. Elizabeth thought she heard a voice whisper in the background of the phone. A young man's voice. Who is that? Was that her fiance? The Greg who had replaced her Luke? He seemed confused, Mrs. Gerlacker. Confused, you mean, about his sexual orientation? About a lot of things. But you dated him for years, Elizabeth said. Do you think he was gay? I don't know. Really? In that last year or so, I felt there was something different about Luke. Something that had become between us. Elizabeth recalled that Luke's one-time best friend, Griff, had told her about Luke changing, being in his own little world. How do you mean different, TJ? I don't know how to explain it. I think he was struggling with something. He talked about going away for a while. Away? Maybe joining a Peace Corps after graduation or teaching out on an Indian reservation. Peace Corps, Indian reservation, all this came as a surprise. So Elizabeth, as if Luke was a complete stranger to her. Someone who had never, she had never really known. She sucked in a mouthful of air and felt suddenly sick to her stomach. Enough, she told herself. She didn't need to hear anymore. She didn't need for this to go on. She could pretend that this conversation never even took place. And yet, once started, it seemed she couldn't stop. As if her own curiosity had an irresistible momentum that carried her onward, even against her will. On his mother, Elizabeth said defensively. How come he never said any of this to me? I don't know, TJ said. It just seemed so odd that he would lie to me that. Are you saying Luke was a liar? I didn't say that, Ms. Gerlacker. Then what are you saying? He felt he couldn't talk to you. What? He thought you wouldn't understand. Her comments felt like a slap in the face. In fact, Elizabeth felt her cheeks turned hot with embarrassment. Really? He said that? Yes. In a supercilious tone, Elizabeth said, frankly, I find all of this very hard to believe. Hurt and angered by what TJ had said, Elizabeth wanted to lash out. The lawyer in her seemed to take over. She hardened herself, slipped into a ruthless cross-examination mode. Are you going to deny the two of you were intimate, she challenged? Mrs. Gerlacker, please. Were you? I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind. Well, I do mind. If you're going to accuse my son of being gay, at least you could provide evidence. Elizabeth said, as if this were a child and she were cross-examining a hostile witness, I didn't say he was gay. I just said he seemed confused about things. And I'm supposed to just take you at your word, and my son not here to defend himself? Mrs. Gerlacker, I loved Luke. The simple invocation of her son's name and the profession of her love for him stopped Elizabeth dead in her tracks. She realized suddenly she'd overstepped any sort of decency. TJ was right. Whatever her and Luke's relationship was or wasn't, it certainly was none of her business. She took a breath. I'm so sorry, TJ. Please forgive me. It's okay. No, it's not okay. You were always a wonderful friend to Luke and to my husband and me. I had no right to say those things. Don't worry about that. I just wish things had turned out differently. They were silent for a moment. Can I ask you one more question? Sure. When you met him that summer, do you think whatever he was going through was troubling him then? Yes. I think that's why he wanted to get away. Really? Yes. He talked about driving cross-country to clear his head. After a while, they said they're goodbyes and hung up. Elizabeth sat there feeling numb to more than anything. A kind of shell shock as if she tried to process all that TJ had said to her that Luke was the one to break off the relationship, that he was confused, that he wasn't interested in women, that the trip had been a means to clear his head, that he was, as TJ put it, struggling with something. Elizabeth also felt embarrassed for how cruel she'd been to TJ. She had no right to say those things to the poor kid, yet what troubled Elizabeth most, perhaps, was the fact that Luke felt he couldn't talk to her, couldn't tell her any of this. Of course, if he had been gay, she'd have still loved him. She'd have loved him no matter what. That wasn't the issue. But if he were gay, and that was still a big if to Elizabeth's mind, why hadn't she known? How could she be so utterly and completely in the dark about her son's sexual orientation? Shouldn't she? Shouldn't she have seen clues strewn along the way? How could a mother have missed such an enormous part of her son's life? And how could Luke have managed to keep something that huge a secret from her and Zach all those years under the same roof? If it were true, what sort of mother had she been that he didn't trust her enough to be able to place in her care something so essential, so crucial to who he was? At the same time, I would have explained certain things, the distance she felt in her son, that inward turning she had sensed in Luke. God, she thought, she'd been such a fool for going on this trip, for opening up this terrible can of worms. Thank you.