Now That You Mention It

by Kristan Higgins

That couple who’s connected by a shimmer of energy. Whose love made other people disappear so that they were the only two people in the world.

Say a grizzly bear came down from Canada and bit off her arm. Mom would just shoot the bear, sew her arm back on with the thick black thread she used to sew our buttons back on when we were kids, then butcher the bear, make it into chili and use the skin as a rug.

“She’s a classic Mainah,” I’d say. “She can fix a boat engine, chop her own wood and shoot a squirrel to fry up for dinner.

“We’re not a thing,” I said. “We’re two fascinating, miraculous clusters of cells.”

I was twenty years older than Poe, I reminded myself, but the urge to ask “Why are you so mean to me?” and burst into tears was strong. “Why are you so mean to me?” I asked (not bursting into tears, yay for me).

I had no delusions of a Carrie-like turn of events where, even if for a little while, the freaky girl got to be popular. So what if she was drenched with a bucket of pig’s blood? Small price to pay.

You wonder how much abuse you can take and still love someone. You wonder how long they can treat you like nothing but still want them back. You wonder how many years it will take to forget how things used to be, how long you’ll burn yourself with that tiny ember of hope before the deluge of their neglect drowns it.

his hands slid into my hair—a mistake, because my hair immediately curled around his fingers like malevolent thorn bushes in a fairy tale. “Ow,” I said when he tried to move his hand. “Sorry.” “No, it’s my hair. It’s alive and evil.

Relatable

“sometimes it takes a few years before you understand what you’re worth. And who’s worth your time.”