You two would make a cute couple,” she says as she passes by with a full dough tray in her arms. I don’t know why she says it. We aren’t doing anything but folding boxes with the other drivers and telling dirty jokes.
But we would.
We would make a cute couple.
Maybe if I hadn’t been so hell-bent on not becoming my parents, I could have saved Charlie. Maybe I would have been his girlfriend. Maybe we could have gotten married and been happy, regardless of who our parents were and what they did to each other.
A.S. KingI knew that once I went looking, I’d need a man like Dad—dependable and respectful toward women, and not into porn or weird rich old guys who bought teenage kids’ underwear.
A.S. KingLook at that, Vera.”
I tilt my head back and see a sky full of stars.
“Can you tell which one is me?” he asks.
I point to the brightest one.
Mom walked out on us, remember? Because she never got over her own baggage, not because of you or me, right?
A.S. KingBut I’m not just my genes, Dad.
A.S. KingWhat Vera doesn’t know is: I’d kill to be a pickle on her Big Mac—ground to relish between her perfect white teeth.
I’d kill to be a bug she squishes with her holey Army-issue combat boot.
But she’s too good for me. She always was.
That Sindy. She was so damn smart. But I never told her that. I also never told her that I loved her, or that I loved the two little stretch marks she got from carrying Vera. Or that I loved that freckle on her forehead. I never told her that I loved her lasagna or that I thought her views on politics were clever. I just kept my mouth shut because I thought that made me safe.
A.S. KingI want to tell her that the only thing you get from walling yourself in is empty.
A.S. KingI never asked her how she was, because I didn't really think about how she was. I just thought about what she thought of me.
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