We play a lot, me and her. She calls me wifey and I say, “always, Boo Boo” as I rub her cheek and then we laugh and get in bed. She will say she is cold and will hold on to me the entire night, her breath caressing the back of my neck. We will wake up and I’ll make us breakfast and then we will go shopping, always holding hands, always finding something to giggle at. It’s perfect. We’re perfect.
We both know it’s about to end soon. I’ll be Jimmy’s wife two months from now. And I’ll not see her as often as she can’t come live with us. Perhaps in the beginning I’ll call her everyday. Or maybe that will be too painful so I’ll just go quiet hoping to forget her. Perhaps 15 years from now I’ll run into her at a store and she’ll look at my 10 year old daughter and say she has her father’s eyes and my stubbornness. I’ll laugh and say so does her younger brother. I’ll ask if she is well and she will say yes. It will get awkward and I’ll say I have to pick the little one from play school. And as I wheel the cart away I’ll feel her eyes on me and bitter tears threatening my eyes. I will repeat what I already told her the night before the wedding, “Society isn’t ready for our kind of love. I am not ready.” I will smile down at my daughter. Her father’s eyes will smile back. And I’ll wonder if he’s done screwing the secretary yet.
~Miss R 💞