getting off work. you say, “you doing anything tonight?” i reply, “not really. going home.” ”my friend is having a bonfire,” you respond. i give you a yearning look and you respond with, “i only want to go if i can go as your girl.” we walk in together, holding hands.
there was a weekend-long retreat, boys and girls. i met a boy, about my own age (18 years or so), and we clicked; the conversation was good. a week after arriving home, his mother and sister, and a man, about 25, showed up at my apartment to discuss who i should be in a relationship with. the mother and sister are vying for the boy, while the man is trying to make his own case. they discuss all the reasons i should be with one or the other. i keep thinking: if i am meant to be with one or the other, why didn’t either of them ask for my number? why didn’t they ask me out on a date? why didn’t they tell me their names? and what about what i want? i go outside. it is winter, but it is not cold. i clear the soft, powdery, warm snow off the back steps of the house. i see jack skellington, about 9 inches tall, encased in ice. i break him free, then am called back inside. i say, “i choose neither. please leave.” i am left alone.
- bella-rebecca posted this