This short story is an 11!
Last night, in the middle of the night, I was seized with a lunatic need to find and reread this story, which I first read over a decade ago, in print, on the grass, in the sun, in California, during a time in my life when everything that wasn’t Ocean County, New Jersey felt extremely foreign to me. I was as lost back then as I am now, but for completely different reasons.
Those reasons are somehow answered in this story. I didn’t quite forget the story, but I definitely couldn’t remember it. It just drifted away, some distance, in the same way that so many stories and memories do. Then, last night, something in a dream compelled me to find it - that crazy story about the naked women and the moon. It took over an hour to find (googling stupid shit like “New Yorker story women moonlight driving bridge”) but I did it! And the result: A morning pleasure that borders on Enlightenment.
It is insane the way that a good story can stick with you. Magic. Real, actual, magic.