beginning of a story just out in the current issue New Ohio Review:

No Try, Only Do

I gave Saul a room.  Two years prior, he had left me for Utah.  He left me for the wild, for backcountry slopes.  He wanted to be in glossy magazines and have his pony-tail flowing out behind him in pictures, carving some mountain, dropping through powder.  He spoke like this, dropping through powder.  I tried to tell myself I couldn’t be too mad: he paid more attention to skis and skiing forums than he did to me.  In Utah, he grew his hair long and beautiful and got in some of those magazines, though mainly he just put up pictures of himself on the internet.  I know, I looked at them all, wondering if he was thinking of me when he was hiking up the slopes, skis on his back, or whether he might get a distant glimpse of our life together when he was on top of one of those mountains and looked east.  He was gone for two years, but to me it seemed a lot longer. I often thought about all the other girls he probably had sex with and how people probably loved him and how he was living this wild, free life, and I was still in East Tennessee with my brother and mother and the probably comparatively lame Blue Ridge.  So when I found out he was coming back because he had seriously injured himself and could no longer carve or ride or hike or otherwise put his health in danger in the backcountry powder, I was happy and told him he had a room waiting.  I wanted him come back in the same state he had left me in: miserable and alone. 

The first day in my house, laid up on the sofa, he said, This is great.  There’s a dicksized mountain out my window.  Great... 

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