Luna and the Lie

by Mariana Zapata

“But you didn’t even like me.” “Oh, I liked you just fine, baby. I’ve always liked you just fine.” Yep, I was a goner. “But you were mean to me.” His smile was slow. “I was tough on you, not mean, and that shit ate me up for hours and days after.” It had? “You could have always been sweet.” “I thought I was too old for you. Thought I’d done too many shitty things in my life to have you in it, Luna,” he explained softly. “I didn’t want to care about you, and I fought that shit as long as I could.”

“You are the goodest, sweetest thing I have ever had in my life,

I couldn’t even find it in me a little bit to be embarrassed as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’ve wanted to do this a hundred times.” “What?” he asked quietly. “Hug you.” It took a moment, but the second his palms landed on the top of my head, I pressed my cheek against him. One of those big palms cupped the back of my head while the other landed right between my shoulder blades, and his voice was hoarse as he whispered, “Baby girl.”

Dragging my fingers up higher, over the dip of his spine and higher up over where the notches of his spine were underneath him, I said, “I’m a little disappointed there isn’t a Chinese symbol for strength.” The laugh that exploded out of him only made me laugh too.

But the best part of life is that in the end, none of that matters. You get to choose who you become. Who you love. You can change your hair color and, to an extent, you can even change your eye color and height. You can learn to be great at something.