A bowl is a bowl. We met tentatively outside of the classroom and began to walk out together. “Alright, let’s do this thing.” That was the best ...hat I could come up with in a super lame false bravado. He flashed a goofy but mischievous grin and led the way. We made it the short distance to his apartment, and I was relieved to find myself the only company. I didn’t feel like being introduced to anyone as some girl who showed up high to class. The small talk that had led us on our walk had. As I said, wife number one claimed the body. We weren’t invited to the funeral, which was in Oregon anyway, clear across the country. I imagine it’s a little like when a soldier dies in a foreign land, going missing in battle and is never found. There’s no body for his people to bury and no real closure. Dad’s belongings at our house suddenly seemed sparse, consisting of some clothes, his 2004 Mustang, and the tools he used to work on the Mustang. That’s what he drove when he was home. He. More

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