• Finalist for the 2021 Danuta Gleed Literary Award
• Finalist for the 2022 ReLit Award for Short Fiction

The 14 stories in Exit Strategies explore the subtleties of memory and storytelling, masterfully creating the universal picture from the quotidian details. These stories do not shy away from difficult truths: a former actuary with a head injury which has robbed her of her mental acuity takes a job caring for a defiant farmer who is facing the decline of his body and his property; an elderly Belgian woman refuses to continue a road trip in BC when her soon-to-be-Canadian son and his dollhouse-obsessed girlfriend stop to help a stranded motorist; an intellectually disabled woman kidnaps three Black children and has the happiest day of her life. This collection gives voice to characters who are not always heard.

from Green is the Colour of Calm

“A coffee cup. Hit her right in the head. The social worker. And then she went for the girl. Fucked her up too. Blood, the whole thing. And they’re like… She’s… What am I supposed to…?”

“Oh, Britt.”

“Whatever. Anyways, what are you gonna do? Rescue me? Change the frigging world?”

And then she can’t help it. She picks up the jar of pens. It’s right there in front of her. She throws it across the room, bawling now. Because what does fucking Melinda care about fucking anything? Standing there. Just standing there. “You should get your stupid hair cut!” she shouts. “You’re useless! You know that? Useless!” The jar and the pens roll across the floor until they stop.

***

She holds her arms tight around herself. “It’s freezing.”

“She’s pretty hot though,” Ty says. “That new chick.”

“They’re charging her,” she says. “My mom. For sure they’re gonna. The cops. Because they showed up yesterday and were all like…”

“Dude.” He loosens the laces of his sneakers. Flicks his lighter, rubs his knuckles up and down his thigh.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks.

“Chick asked me to go to the mall with her. That night. So, she coulda been at the mall. With me. So. Yeah.”

***

“Sure,” her mom says. “Stay with Melinda. Sure. Go find your dad, while you’re at it.”

“I don’t have to go there.”

“Damn right you don’t.”

But she’s fifteen. She has to stay somewhere with someone. That’s what the social workers tell her.