My Body is a Cage and Other Stories

Later that night after they set up the deer cameras again, they’re sipping beer by the fire
and he’s telling her stories from his paramedic daysand she’s telling him about the weird,
lovable kids in her class.
She decides to stay up and call Jo before she headsto bed, so he could go on in without
her. He nods, and says, “Jo. Cool name.”
When he doesn’t get up from his chair, she asks what’swrong.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he takes the hat from off hishead. “I just think this suits you more
than me now.” He puts it on her head and steps intothe camper.
Irene takes it off to look at it. Women want me,fish fear me. She runs a finger along a
busted seam and reminds herself to ask Jo to mendit when she gets home. She puts it back on
and it fits like a crown.
She speaks quietly to Jo on the phone so as not towake her father. She’s laughing as she’s
recounting the conversation on the dock earlier thatday, and how she caught a fish for the first
time, and finally about the hat. Then she’s cryingabout it all and just listens to her wife’s voice.
It’s soft and soothing now, and Irene imagines hercurled up in bed with Ted, their cat. She sits
by the fire long after they say goodnight.
She names the lighting bugs in the branches nearthe campsite Audre, Jane, and
Charlotte. The yellow glow of their bodies pulsesin and out and she imagines her body doing the
same. Wonders the feeling of glowing is warm likeshe is now, lit up with flickering light from
the campfire.
She closes her eyes to take in the crackle of theflames and low rush of a breeze through
the trees and underneath it all, her father snoring.She’s not sure how long she sits like that.