The Place Where Names Hide
by Olivia Kate Cerrone
I stand beside my father in the bathroom as he peels the nose from his face. He pinches a spot beneath his right eye, and pulls. A large black pentagon is where the nasal bridge should be. That's how cancer leaves its mark, through this business of taking away.
The nose is made of silicone, colored to match his skin. A light appendage, one I've hunted for often. My father has a habit of discarding it around the house. Like other items he's misplaced—socks, bills, his wedding ring. His hands shake, and the prosthetic needs to be cleaned daily in order to ward off infection. Each time we leave the doctor's, I am given the numbers of facilities that could provide greater care.My father drops the nose into a mug of warm water to remove what's left of the adhesive. Then I rub a toothbrush's soft bristles along the edges and contours of the nostrils, and down the nose's long, beaky slope.
"Thank you," he says.
"Thank you, who?"
He squints at me. In the gap above his lips, it's possible to see straight into his head. The cavity sucks down light, coats it in a velvet pitch. If I stare long enough, I will shrink and be swallowed, taken to the place where names hide. Patience is key. Like other things, it might come back to him someday.
Olivia Kate Cerrone earned an MFA from New York University, where she completed a novel titled The Strength of Glass, excerpts of which have already appeared in Word Riot and 3:AM Magazine. She is currently at work on The Hunger Saint, a novel involving the brutal mistreatment of underage sulphur mine workers in Sicily. Write to her at: Olivia.Cerrone@gmail.com