milk

 

 

 “Want me to leave you my kaleidoscope?”

“Yeah. Lemme see.” To buy some time I press it to my eye and feign interest, not really seeing the magic at all. All I can think of is the feeling of him in Connecticut, knowing it’s not just school he’s going back for.

“I hope I’m not forgetting anything. Call and let me know if I do. Okay?”

I nod and turn to tell him he’s forgetting his favorite tired cowboy boots beneath the bookshelf. But he’s looking at his phone, smiling at something that I am no part of. Something that is no doubt coaxing him out my door. I lift the kaleidoscope to the other eye, bolstered by the thought that I will never confess to having them when he calls me, panicked, asking if I’ve seen them.

dogpatch

 “I’ve got to get out of here.”

 

“Yeah, well you’ve been saying that for nearly three years now.”

She shoots me a sideways glance then carries on watching the cars on the road below. Those wide pools of mahogany in her eyes dim. I instantly wish I wasn’t so quick to dash her. But I’ve never known just how to say I can’t live to watch her leave here.

 

too real

“You trashed my car.”

Dejected. I look at my toes. There isn’t much I can say to her now. And I’ve got to keep the peace so I can make it out of here and into the city before he changes his mind about us. 

“And my Navajo blanket, where is it? It needs to be kept in the car. It protects the seats.”

A gorgeous memory of me and my boy dancing in socks only blows through my mind. I extinguish an advancing smile.

“Oh, yeah… Sorry. We really needed a curtain. Larry’s always looking in the windows.”