She leaned over to kiss my cheek forcefully, gratefully, as if to confirm this had already been a lovely birthday, and then she waited. How many times have I time traveled back to that moment? Have I, on take after take, kissed her in return? Only to understand how ill-equipped I was then to accept a direct invitation, being so adept at seeing around people, at watching their true selves peek out from behind their masks, that I could not match such spontaneous ardor? Sing, Muse, of a boy’s lack of know-how. I’d been so trained in dissembling I didn’t simply distrust directness, I was paralyzed
...more
