Finding Jerry
wine bar, green card, ex-boyfriend, jungle -fanny The first time I saw him, half of his face was swallowed by a thick beard. It was the type of facial hair Dumbledore’s better-looking younger brother might have had, bespeckled with… bread crumbs? Fish flakes? Dandruff? I hope it was dandruff. It had to be dandruff. Deep brown strands hung from his face, fizzing into a deeper gray near the curve of his neck. A hairy jungle, truly— one that distracted me so much that I don’t remember much else about him. Then again, I suppose I don’t remember much else about a lot of things that day. It doesn’t really cross your mind to remember things when you’re jogging around town—and you remember much less when you’re knocked off your feet and flung into the air by a speeding hunk of commercially-produced metal. The way I write about it makes it sound like a joke, but it really wasn’t. I ended up in the ER, tubes snaking around my body and one eye so swollen that I could