by Taylor DeGrasse
Mrs. Hughes kept a journal all those years she worked for me at the Vanderbilt. I suspect she wanted me to find it, so thick and worn, so carelessly left on her bedside table. She never accused anyone of stealing it, and never seemed the least bit concerned about private thoughts potentially becoming public. I didn't read it at first. I kept it in a lockbox, along with photos of my son James, who knew me, but not as his father. After I finally read it, I impulsively burned it - just pitched it into the flames of my bedroom's fireplace - and immediately, angrily, pathetically cursed my imprudence.
Taylor DeGrasse lives and writes in Princeton, New Jersey.