Boyhood Bravery
six
The warmth of his voice seeps into my shoulders, sinking into my skin, settling into the beat of my pulse, pounding in my ears as he asks the inevitable question.
"What were your parents like?"
His question is as welcome as cancer but something inside of me feels as if I need to answer; fear is creeping into every nerve ending, nervous tissue twitching along my spine, bent over slightly as if to hide from his words. His voice is velvet but his words somehow cut like razors.
"I don't have parents."
My voice hands in the air, like exhaled smoke circling away from my windowpane, clouding up the frigid air.
He tells me that I'm silly and it stings, even though I know this boy, so sweet and innocent, naive and trusting, this boy would never hurt me on purpose but his words still bite into the flesh of my heart. Regret flashes immediate and strong in his eyes and he quickly scrambles for words.
"I mean," I can see how hard he swallows. "Everyone comes from someone."
I fight back the urge to laugh, images of broken plates, shattered mirrors, loud voices and too many regrets echoing in my mind.
"Not me."
If only he knew, but he can never know.
"What were your parents like?"
His question is as welcome as cancer but something inside of me feels as if I need to answer; fear is creeping into every nerve ending, nervous tissue twitching along my spine, bent over slightly as if to hide from his words. His voice is velvet but his words somehow cut like razors.
"I don't have parents."
My voice hands in the air, like exhaled smoke circling away from my windowpane, clouding up the frigid air.
He tells me that I'm silly and it stings, even though I know this boy, so sweet and innocent, naive and trusting, this boy would never hurt me on purpose but his words still bite into the flesh of my heart. Regret flashes immediate and strong in his eyes and he quickly scrambles for words.
"I mean," I can see how hard he swallows. "Everyone comes from someone."
I fight back the urge to laugh, images of broken plates, shattered mirrors, loud voices and too many regrets echoing in my mind.
"Not me."
If only he knew, but he can never know.