My Cardboard Balcony

The Last Frontier by Belinda Roddie Kissed a girl in Skagway: She tasted like men's cologne and sweet molasses. She had the mouth of a mine and veins forged from gold. She was dressed to the nines in flannel and black boots, and she told me that her great- great-great grandfather had found a fortune while the Yukon still bore fresh footprints on its face. After we kissed, she let me stay in a lodge with log shoulders tanned by the Alaska sun. I never made it back to the cruise ship; I wonder if my wife misses me.

I stayed on the first floor while my family went up to my grandfather's office. This was because I could not go up the staircase on my own, and there were no wheelchair accessible ramps or elevators to take me to the second story. My brother had offered to carry me, but I laughed and shook my head. "You go say hi," I told him, "and just meet me down in the lobby."