Take Me With You

by Andrea Gibson

WE WEAR OUR TRAUMAS THE WAY THE GUILLOTINE WEARS GRAVITY. OUR LOVERS’ NECKS ARE SO SOFT.

IT TAKES A HELL OF A LOT MORE MUSCLE TO STAY THAN TO GO.

I THINK MAYBE THE STARS I SAW THE FIRST TIME I WAS PUNCHED ARE THE SAME STARS I SAW THE FIRST TIME I WAS KISSED AND I CAN FIND MY WAY HOME BY ALL OF IT.

YOU KEEP REMEMBERING THE FIRST TIME YOU SAW A BIRD’S NEST HELD TOGETHER BY AN OLD SHOELACE AND SCRAPS OF A PLASTIC BAG. YOU KNEW THE HOME OF A PERSON COULD BE BUILT LIKE THAT—A LOT OF THINGS YOU’D RATHER THROW AWAY.

THIS YEAR EVERYONE I KNOW HAD A BROKEN HEART, EVERYONE I KNOW CRIED IN PRIVATE ON THEIR WAY HOME FROM A PARTY, AND NOT EVERYONE I KNOW WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, AND NOT EVERYONE I KNOW WANTED TO EVEN THOUGH THEY DID. AND THIS YEAR I STOOD INSIDE OF A REDWOOD TREE AND THOUGHT, “THIS IS THE SWEETEST DAY OF MY WHOLE LIFE,” AND TWO MONTHS LATER I WAS SOBBING IN A PARKING LOT, THINKING, “THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY WHOLE LIFE,” AND A FEW MONTHS LATER I WAS DANCING IN MY LIVING ROOM, SAYING, “THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY WHOLE . . .” HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THE SEED OF A REDWOOD TREE? SO TINY. AND ALL OF THAT EVERYTHING INSIDE OF IT. ALL OF THIS EVERYTHING INSIDE OF US.

I’M SITTING ON MY FRIEND’S COUCH SEVERAL MONTHS INTO BEING INTENTIONALLY SINGLE AND CELIBATE FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE I WAS TWENTY YEARS OLD. I’M TELLING MY FRIEND ABOUT THE PSYCHIC WHO SAID I’M GONNA MEET THE LOVE OF MY LIFE BY THE END OF JANUARY. IT’S JANUARY TENTH AND I AM SO FAR FROM READY FOR CUPID, THAT NAKED LITTLE SHIT, TO FIRE ANYTHING SHARP MY WAY. SO FAR FROM READY TO BE THE KIND OF INSANE ONLY LOVE MAKES ME. MY FRIEND MUSTERS EVERY BIT OF NEW AGE JARGON SHE CAN FIT ONTO HER TONGUE AND SAYS, “WHAT IF YOU ARE THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE?” I THINK, “OH MY GOD, I HOPE THAT’S NOT TRUE . . . BECAUSE I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT MY TYPE.”