Memories of that moment remain suspended around me like fractured glass
The first time it happened, I had walked with his crying wife,
she wasn’t sure she would ever be a mother.
I reassured her she could play dress up with me
for as long as she liked.
She laughed, but I remember meaning it
That’s what love feels like at twelve I suppose
She was so kind, and she was hurting
I wanted her to take me
for all the reassurance I could offer
The next morning, I rushed through breakfast,
I was late for the bus
He had come by looking to pick up our shared lawnmower
I was home alone, he asked me for a kiss
Memories of that moment remain suspended
around me like fractured glass
I gave him a peck on the cheek
I was twelve.
He kissed me, not on the cheek
I told him he scared me
I told him everything would be alright
I was worried he was upset, like she had been
He did it again,
I was twelve.
I was thirteen.
He said I made him feel good
He laughed when I felt too shaken to lock the door
Last month he stood in my kitchen and ate a cookie I had made
He said it was the best one he’s ever had.
Standing beside him, she asks me
if she was still invited to my wedding one day
She wants to dance to a song we loved when I was twelve
She’s finally a mother
‘to two wonderful boys,’ she tells me
She asks me why we drifted apart
I haven’t felt at home in my own body in a decade
but he’s on a beach in Hawaii
He is a father now
He says he worries about his ten-year old’s safety at school
What about me?
Photo Caption: fractured glass (credit: creative commons)