Your throat tightens up and your eyes get
wet as you watch their faces go from stony to sad, and it’s all kind of
moving and sweet except that you’re not completely there- a part of you
is a few feet away, or above, thinking, Good, they’ll forgive you, they
won’t desert you, and the question is, which one is really ‘you,’ the
one saying and doing whatever it is, or the one watching?
"I’m always happy,” Sasha said. “Sometimes I just forget."
I start to cry, I don't even hide it.
Hey, Lou goes. He leans down so our faces are together, and stares straight into my eyes. He looks tired, like someone walked on his skin and left footprints. He goes, The world is full of shitheads, Rhea. Don't listen to them-- listen to me.
And I know that Lou is one of those shitheads. But I listen.