Quotes from Jess Lourey

Milkfed Mary, Queen of the Dairy

like him, they preferred their lives delivered to them in a box.

Was it contagious, the emptiness I felt? Was he worried he'd catch it?

After that, Mrs. Hansen stopped visiting. Mom receded from a lot of my memories and Dad came in clearer focus, making breakfast in Mom's place, driving me to school on the days it rained. When Mom showed up, she was a force, sparkling at dinner parties, running around the kitchen cooking four-course dinners, but it seemed to cost her. She stayed at that level—50 percent of her—for a couple months.

I stared across the crackling fire at Brenda, the glow lighting up her heart-shaped face. My love for her was carved into my bones.

Smile girls, you'll look so much prettier. So I'll damn well decide for myself when I'm ready to smile.

If you divorced him, we'd have more money. He doesn't hardly sell any sculptures. He eats and drinks a lot. Mostly you pay the bills.

Every waitress had a group of guys who mistook professional courtesy for a personal relationship. She'd never liked it, but she'd thought she understood it. As far as she could tell, men didn't have close friendships, not like women did, but they still had that human need for connection. Every movie and TV show and magazine article told them it was their job to go out and grab what they wanted at the same time it told them that women were theirs for the taking.

now would be great exercise." But Kennie wasn't listening. She ping-ponged over to the sectional couch with the rust-colored, cabin-in-the-woods pattern, where she fell face down into the nappy cloth. She twitched and wriggled

I'm having a birthday party. Do you want to come?" Evie glanced at the invitation. "Thanks, but no." She didn't use any excuses, just said it simple and straight, handing my humiliation right back to me, thanks but no thanks.

It's only possible to provide help when it's asked for. The rest of the time, all you can give is love.

Well, we'll have to agree to disagree." I hated that phrase. It was code for, "I know you're too obtuse to ever see how I right I am, so to get any satisfaction out of this discussion, I'm going to pretend to be more reasonable than you. Oh, and get the last word in.

He said the government was always listening and that anything you had to say you should say in person.

I did. Some truths feel like they'll kill you if you say them out loud.

Their family and friends are the only ones who can understand the depths of their grief, the life's work of creating meaning in loss, of having their world shaped by violence they couldn't see coming and did not deserve.

She stared up at him, at this man-she-knew-who-was-a-stranger, this person who'd risked everything in his world to kidnap another human so he could thrust away like a zoo monkey whenever he wanted. This loser had made a biological act so imperative that he was willing to go to prison to feel the same relief he could get with his own hand.

Remember the good, only the good. Don't borrow trouble from the past.

I hadn't meant to tell her the last bit. Sometimes Mom was fine taking in that much information. But then there were the other times. I could see her tumblers working. Her face had gone slack. The back of my neck grew cold waiting to see which version was going to erupt. But finally, happily, the correct words dropped into place, and out rolled a perfectly normal sentence. "Wonderful! Your dad and I will come see you girls play." Did she know she was lying?

In some versions of the story, the boy had been tortured, made to drink the blood of his captors, and forced to walk home naked. Except no one seemed to have a name to go with their stories. Who had been attacked?

His accent was coarse, pure backcountry Minnesotan. If he had to string together more than five words, we'd hear the "I seen it" and "can you borrow me some" that my parents said were the signs of ignorance

My eyes were scratchy with middle-sleep.

my heartbeat woke me with its thudding cry of look look look.

You'll recognize those men, the ones inclined to their dark side, because they'll expect you to carry their load. They'll smother your anger with their pain, they'll make you doubt yourself, and they'll tell you they love you the whole time.

I'm going to call you Motherwort," I whispered, petting the baby fur as she scarfed down the food. "Wort for short, because motherwort is so good at healing girls, and this one right here"—I jabbed my thumb at myself—"has had a day.