The Secrets We Kept

by Lara Prescott

When pushed to describe his work, defend it, or even promote it, he felt he couldn’t. “It’s as if my own words are lost somewhere between putting them to paper and seeing them in print,” he told me.

I wanted to be part of the group, but didn’t want it to seem like I wanted to be part of the group. One might think this scenario plays out

only in high school or college, but the politics of friendship are tricky at every age.

They had their satellites, but we had their books. Back then, we believed books could be weapons—that literature could change the course of history.

In hindsight, I wish more than anything that I’d taken her hand that night in the kitchen and told her I was sorry. I thought there’d be time. Time to make amends, time to let her know I supported whatever decision she made, time to tell her how much I loved her, time to embrace her as I hadn’t done since I was a little girl. But there wasn’t. There’s never enough time.