The other day, as we were putting together the kid’s costume for Halloween, she asked me, what did I dress up as for Halloween? At first this seemed like such an easy question to answer, and I started to respond that I went as a pirate, a cowboy, a California Raisin, Indiana Jones… and… and then I couldn’t remember. I drew a blank.
I could remember being a pirate when my family lived in Alabama, which would have made me five. Then I remembered the first Halloween in Texas, a cowboy – real shock there. I know that I did the California Raisin thing in 6th grade because there was a girl I liked and she thought it would be cute if I went as that, which I think shows you how desperate I was to get any female attention. And then Indiana Jones I did in 7th grade to coincide with Last Crusade which had come out that Summer, but it was also my last Halloween because I did feel too old to be out Trick or Treating.
That leaves a gap in my memory from 1st to 5th grade.
Now, I remember going Trick or Treating with my friends over those years. I remember the old guy who gave out pennies, and the house that gave out toothbrushes. There was the could that gave apples, and the family that wrapped Bible verses around mini Snickers bars. And there was the family that turned their home into a Haunted House that you could go through. I remember the junior high boys that would throw eggs, toilet paper, and water balloons at people. I remember families being out, and the police driving slowly through our neighborhood, keeping an eye out, making sure it was safe, and trying to catch those boys on their bikes. I remember the years my mom took me and my friends out, and the times my dad took us.
But nothing when it comes to my costumes from those years. It’s a blank, while also it feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue, but still won’t materialize.
It’s a very strange feeling to not be able to remember this. Like, I know it was a big deal dressing up, and taking time to figure out my costume. I know my mom would help me put it together… but I just can’t remember.
Not that this happens very often, but the wife is out of town for a work conference, which means it’s just me and the kid this week. This situation means different things to different people. For my wife, this conference is an opportunity to network, gain more knowledge, and further her career. For me, it is a little more work taking care of the kid by myself, but I am happy that I can help support my wife’s career while at the same time, I get the home office to myself, so I can work on my writing projects. For the kid, who is a little sad that mom’s not around, but she is tempering this because in her mind, she gets to eat fast food with dad. And I know that’s true because the kid said that to me last night.
Now, let me explain…
See, on the whole, we really don’t eat fast food in our family. We try to cook at home as much as possible, and when we don’t feel like cooking, we either order out, or go to a local restaurant. When we do eat fast food, it’s usually because we are traveling on the road and need something quick. When the kid usually gets fast food, it’s because she’s over at a friend’s home, and it turns out to be a big treat for her – in the “forbidden fruit” kind’a idea of a treat. The wife is more adamant about no fast food as compared to me, but we are both in agreement that the kid needs to have a healthy relationship with food, and she needs to know how to cook healthy for herself when she heads out on her own.
That was a real long way to go to say that dad get her Chipotle last night. And I do really like Chipotle, it is my one weakness; if I can get it without catching any grief from the wife, I will.
But the kid has upped the ante; She wants to try Taco Bell. And I am torn on this one. I used to eat a lot of Taco Bell when I was in college, but I didn’t eat it for flavor – I ate it because it was cheap. I am pretty sure the kid wants it because normally she would never get it, but we have good Mexican food in our neighborhood; two good restaurants, and three taco trucks. Maybe they are a little more expensive, but they taste way better!
I know that I will cave, and I know that I will suffer for it.
I can’t get enough sleep. I’m not saying that I have a medical condition, or anything to be alarmed about. No, this more has to do with getting older, my body needs more sleep, but I still have a lot of shit to do. Sure, I could go to bed earlier, I mean any idiot could do that, but this feels more like being thirsty. No matter how much I drink, I’m still thirsty. No matter how much I sleep, I just want to sleep more. That’s what I want; not that my body agrees with that, because my body will wake me up somewhere between 5:30 and 6am. That is rather annoying. But even when this happens, and even if I get eight hours of sleep. I’m still tired and I want to sleep more. This is also why I am a fan of, and take naps daily.
All our noses are stuffed up. The wife and the kid are getting over a cold, so that makes sense. Me? I just I have a sympathy stuffed up nose. When the wife was pregnant and was eating for two, I also eat for two. I easily put on ten pounds. I guess it could be the same thing.
For those of you who don’t live in New York City, and specifically Manhattan, streets run east to west, and avenues run north to south. Also, the space between avenues is much longer as compared to streets which is much shorter. Just so you know. And please, if you are a tourist, remember this when you come and visit the City.
I need to learn this and stop being surprised when it happens…
The kid got sick over the weekend, and it through everything off.
We aren’t mad at the kid for getting sick, because getting is sick is what kids do about half of the time. No, we were both amazed and taken aback by how much the kid’s illness destroyed out mental wellbeing.
Let me explain…
We had a fun, but busy weekend planned. We were going to get our Halloween pumpkin, and complete other Fall errands. The kid was going on a sleepover with a friend, and there was her soccer match on Sunday. Then we had shoe shopping planned, well you get the idea… Lots of stuff.
But for the past few days, the kid had been saying that she wasn’t feeling right, and she did have a stuffy nose. Anyway, since she was going to a sleepover, and being around a bunch of kid for soccer, I thought, just to eliminate any questions, that we’d pop in to the local minor emergency clinic to check her out. And that’s when we found out that she was actually, really sick, and contagious for the next 24 hour before the antibiotics kicked in.
In one sense, I felt a little good that I was a responsible parent and took my kid in, and got her the care that she needed.
But what me and the wife also felt was that our entire weekend, if not life, had just spun outta control, and NOW we were over whelmed with everything that we had to take care of. We even felt a little paralyzed, unable to get up off the couch to take care of anything other than our kid. We were both surprised at how fast this feeling of helplessness came over us. In all honesty, we have dealt with much much worse things and situations, and handled it with a smile and a good sense of humor. This was a pretty minor issue… but our reaction was completely deflated and defeated.
By Sunday, we had snapped out of it and righted the ship. Things are all better, but we’re back on track. Yet, even this morning, we were still bewildered by our reaction from Saturday.
(The short story “Intimacy” by Ayşegül Savaş appeared in the October 20th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)
Photograph by Elinor Carucci
“Intimacy” by Ayşegül Savaş has been sitting with me for a couple of days now. I’ve read it three times, and I am still mulling over the construction of it, the theme, the use of language, and the lack of it as well. I keep thinking that there is a simplicity to this story, but that is just an illusion to its complexity. I want to believe that I would never behave like the protagonist, but honestly, I completely behave like the protagonist. Savaş uses the normal short story tricks; foreshadowing in the first paragraph, use of the rule of three, and uses the death of a character as the climax. But Savaş uses these tricks, and a few others, is such ingenious ways, that this story feels fresh, and left me wondering, and I mean this in an intriguing positive way, what is going to happen next?
To describe the plot I feel is rather a meaningless exercise as it won’t get to the heart of what makes this a compelling story. Here goes anyway: In an unnamed city, there is a group of expats from an unnamed country. The groups tries to support each other in adjusting to life in this new city, and to that end our narrator, who is a published writer, is connected with an older and very successful writer from the same expat group. They have lunch together. The lunch goes well, and eventually the older writer brings his wife to a lunch and the narrator and wife hit it off. Then the narrator and the wife go out and have a picnic together which also goes well, but the narrator drops returning text messages from the wife. One reason is that the narrator’s very young daughter breaks her clavicle. Through a dinner party later in the story, the narrator learns that the writers wife is ill. And maybe that’s a good place to stop.
Through the story I kept wrestling with what to make of the narrator. On one hand, I was perplexed by some of her decisions, but on the other hand, I had to admit I have made the same choices that she does. Such as when talking to the writer about traveling back to their home country, she omits telling him how her children cried and complained wherever they went, but made it sound like the trip was ideal. Not exactly a lie, but also not the truth. In another example, she doesn’t inform the daycare of her child’s fussiness which could help explain when the kid’s accident occurred. Her reasons for the omissions are understandable, but in another light of perspective, she could be viewed as manipulative. These are but two examples the narrator makes that left me with a feeling of ambiguity, which played well into the theme of this story.
Then there was the use of language. As I alluded to before in the description, virtually everything is left unnamed. No cities, countries, locations, and especially proper names. Only two are used, and they are deliver deliberately to have the perfect impact on the story. Not only do the name reveals play into the theme of intimacy, but it also ties back into the motivations of the narrator. Why does she choose to reveal them at that time and in that manner? Furthermore, the language is smart, direct, cutting, but also vacant and void of a deeper meaning or connection. The narrator’s word choice appears to be open, but they are a defense, keeping people away.
Through all of this, I have been chewing on the theme of “Intimacy.” What is Savaş trying to say about how people open up, and close themselves off? The narrator mentions a husband, and how they cooperate to take care of their children, and work, but she never shares any feelings about him. It’s never expressed that there is an issue between them, but then why is his name never shared with us? Most importantly, the wife of the writer makes efforts to connect with the narrator, which the narrator ignores. The narrator only changes her attitude when she find out the wife is ill. A rather shallow reaction, made worse by the narrator using her daughter’s injury as the explanation/excuse for the ghosting. Most people share themselves to form connections, but do some people share out of guilt? Sharing enough to stay relevant while still distant?
“Intimacy” is my favorite type of story; one that I read over and over to discover more details and motivations, which enriches the story further. I keep thinking that I should be annoyed and disappointed with the narrator but I find her failings makes this character all the more human and believable. This story wonderfully confounds me. But so do most of the people I love. And they might say the same thing about me.
