December, 2003; October, 2005
A beautiful two-story house with white columns on both porches and a palm tree in the front yard stands on a tree-lined street in a historic Columbia neighborhood. I drew the design of it on a napkin in Shoney’s; the builders were sitting across from me, and Caroline’s eyes were lighting up as she suggested changes she would like me to make.
“We can do that,” the builders nodded as they stared at the napkin.
It was Caroline’s idea to try to live downtown when we moved to Columbia. …

I never sleep. The three of us have opposite schedules, and I have no walls. My loft is also their home office.
Nick bought a two-bedroom condo for him and his fiancé. Then he called off the wedding. His best friend, Geoff, moved into the spare room and they offered me the loft.
“But I hate that part of Charleston,” I said.
“I’ll only charge you $200 a month,” said Nick.
“How about this: Instead of me living there I’ll give you $200 a month, buy you a shovel, and let you beat the …

I’m not certain of anything anymore. I’m a teenage lover sitting on a bed, skin tingling, scared to death but unable to stop, not having the slightest idea of how anything works. Until now life was so simple. I was a child, a child living in a world where everything was beautiful and was made up of baseball and summer crushes and black Reebok Pumps. Life is more complicated than that now, and during honest moments I admit that I can’t handle my life. It’s a rip tide. I can …