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Spill by Karie Fugett

The day my husband died, April 20, 2010, BP oil poured into the Gulf of Mexico. I was told about the spill weeks later, sometime between the day I buried him and the day our first and only home foreclosed. This was also around the time I realized with shame that I had lied every time I told him I couldn’t live without him.

In the news, I read of desperate fisherman taking their own lives over the destruction, yet I somehow still wanted to live. Somehow I kept waking up in the mornings and I kept pumping overpriced gas into my Honda to get places I felt I needed to be. Where could I possibly need to be?

One day I walked into a cigar bar and sat next to a man who wore a form-fitted Red Sox t-shirt that accentuated his strong arms. His gray-blue hat made honey eyes mysterious in a way that made me want him in a way that made me feel guilt — and relief. Over a game of pool he let me win, he told me I have the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen and he said it in the thickest Cajun accent I had ever heard.

The next morning we watched the sun rise over the oil stained sand of Gulf Shores, Alabama. In the distance, a seagull plummeted into the wounded, black water. I wanted to stop the bird — to save it — but I knew it was hopeless.

He leaned in and kissed me.


About the author: 

Karie Fugett is pursuing a BA in both English and Sociology at the University of South Alabama. She serves as Editor-in-chief of Oracle Fine Arts Review and is an Associate Editor at Negative Capability Press. Karie was chosen as a nonfiction finalist in the 2013 Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards. Her work can be found in The Birmingham Arts Journal, Straight Forward Poetry, and an anthology entitled Social Issues First Hand: The Iraq War.


 

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