What Changes Everything by Masha Hamilton

you and I. There is no one else with whom I can recall that decade and a half of years rich with your childhoods, that time for which I feel such nostalgia. No one left but you who I can love in such an unprotected way. I miss you."
           She paused, chewing on the end of her pen, and began again. "I wish you could have seen the face of the staff sergeant who gave me the details. I cannot believe he lied to me. Besides, Dani, if I accept this as a lie, how much else would I have to question?" She stopped, reread the last three sentences and, hating them, wadded up the paper. She would start over. Which was fine. Famous authors spent years perfecting their books, after all, and now those books surrounded her, making a lasting impression. She could spend a few more weeks on a letter to her last remaining son.
           Grief had changed her. The old Stela had vanished, erased by a war "over there," though in a different way than her sons. First she‟d been angry, and that anger had driven Dani away. But she‟d understood at last that if she was to get on with what was left, she had to stop clinging to the past. And that‟s what she needed to tell her son, that alone, if she could find a way to slip the other differences between the pages of a forgotten book.
           She remembered how frightening it was to be young and be forced to imagine the inner lives of one‟s parents. There they were, crazy or disappointed or bitter, sagging in spirit as well as body. Who wouldn‟t run from that? She empathized with Dani; she could understand why he fled.
           But who else did she have to explain things to? Sitting there, surrounded by words, searching for the right ones, she took another clean sheet, and tried again.

    Danil, September 5th

           Danil heard the doorbell ring, but he chose not to acknowledge it. He couldn‟t have been sleeping more than a couple of hours; he needed more. He willed his eyes to stay closed even as he heard a key in the door, and then Joni‟s voice.
           "Morning, Dani. Or actually, afternoon."
           He groaned and rolled over.
           "Time to get up," Joni said.
           "Give me a pass, Joni," he said. "I worked late."
           "I‟m not sure it‟s work unless you get a paycheck," Joni said lightly.
           "Remind me again why I gave you a key?"
           Joni laughed and sat on the only comfortable chair in Danil‟s apartment. "A cup of coffee," she said, extending her arm, then setting the cup on the rickety table when he didn‟t acknowledge it. "You‟re welcome. And here are the latest three letters from your mom." She shook her head. "These letters…but that‟s another topic, Dani. Today I come bearing news, and I don‟t have much time. I‟m on lunch break."
           Dani and Joni met in school seven years ago, before he‟d dropped out. She became a web designer, with an eye for color, a wide streak of practicality and a brain for business. He was both pleased and amazed that they‟d stayed friends, even as he‟d grown more solitary, more
    isolated. "Send me an email," he said.
    "Hand that line to someone who thinks you read email."
           Dani kicked off the covers and moved his legs to the floor, planting his feet, propping up his head on one arm.
           "Your friend Eli stopped over," Joni said.
           Danil sighed. "He‟s not exactly a friend."
           "Remind me a gain why he has my a ddress? And why he doesn‟t know where you live now?"
           Danil sat up. "You didn‟t tell him, did you?"
           "If I had, he‟d be here already. Listen, he said to give you this. Apparently your work has shown up on some blog site, and some gallery owner is trying to find you. Eli says the guy wants to give you a show."
           "How did Eli get this?"
           "Trolling blogs? Maybe the guy wandered into his tattoo gallery. How do I