Because of Her Signed Paperback + Free Swag

There’s nothing notable about Boone, Kansas, other than the unkempt graveyard shrouded by cottonwoods where my brother, his wife, and their only child now rest. They moved from Chicago to give their son a better life.
Had they known how “better” would play out, they might have been more inclined to overlook the ninety-minute crawl to work or the occasional vandalism.

Now, their little family of three has a one hundred percent death rate. I’m not sure that’s the definition of a better life, especially given that all three deaths were suicides.

A one-way street lines the tiny town square of crumbling brick buildings still home to a few local businesses that have stood the test of time. Murals line the alleys, a youthful touch to something old. I repeat my trip around the weathered square five times in the June sun before taking a brave breath and turning on my blinker to make a right down one of the more abandoned streets in the town.

My brother John and his wife, Lynn, chose this house because they liked the oversized lot, minimal traffic, and abundant mature trees. Never mind the century-old homes with splintered siding, curling shingles, and crooked shutters. Our mom took one look and whispered, “It’s horrific,” while my brother, simultaneously, sighed contentedly and said, “It’s perfect.” He envisioned endless possibilities, and Mom saw nothing but a never-ending series of headaches in what our dad called “a thirty-year mortgage on a poor decision.”

The irony? We grew up on a rundown farm in Iowa, where subsidies paid the rent.

Who could blame John for loving the place and the nostalgia that came with it. The house backs up to a cornfield, reminiscent of the days John and I hid from our parents. John mapped out a maze while I foraged for supplies in case we needed to hide out for days while our parents argued over money and who bore more responsibility for parenting.

John and I were inseparable, not just because we were twins. We complemented each other perfectly—my weaknesses were his strengths, and his were mine. We always said we were accidental twins, meant to be one person. Instead, we were two out-of-balance humans: either extremely good at something or extremely bad. John could barely spell his name but knew Pi to … infinity. On the other hand, I poured over every book I could get my greedy little hands on and fell in love with Chopin long before I was old enough to need a bra. But if you asked me if two times two equaled four, I had to think about it for several seconds because eight seemed like a good option too.