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I sat up. Glanced around.
No sign of bear nor blonde.
“We can’t just go. I love you,
Kyle, I really do, but …”
If you really love me, you’ll say
okay. He reached out, grabbed
my face, turned it so I had to
look into his eyes. Okay?
I started to protest. But then
I remembered something Dad
had told me not long before
Shreeveport took me away.
We were on the porch, and as
usual, he was smoking. I watched
a narrow stream of smoke lift
into the cold morning. Rarely
before had the idea of separation
stung so much. I guess because
of the relative closeness we had
lately discovered. Finally I asked,
“If you could do anything over, take
something back, what would it be?”
He thought for a minute or two,
and when he finally spoke, his
answer surprised me. I guess
I would have tried harder to
convince your mother to stay
after she got out of prison.
I loved he
r enough to hope she
