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When it’s finals week and you’ve been studying for five hours straight, you need three things to get you through the night. The biggest Slurpee you can find, half cherry, half Coke. Pajama pants, the kind that have been washed so many times, they are tissue-paper thin.
Maybe that was how it was with all first loves. They own a little piece of your heart, always.
woke up to the smell of my father’s Turkish coffee. For just those few seconds right in between sleep and wakefulness, I was ten again, and my dad still lived with us and the biggest thing I had to worry about was my math homework.
He was marrying my girl, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
“I never thought you’d be the kind of girl who would put up with that from a guy.”
“I put up with a lot worse from you.” I said it automatically. I said it without thinking.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get you out of my system, not completely. I have… this feeling. That you’ll always be there. Here.” Conrad clawed at his heart and then dropped his hand.
“Don’t marry him. Don’t be with him. Be with me.”
“I need you to know that no matter what happens, it was worth it to me. Being with you, loving you. It was all worth it.”
He came up and kissed me on my forehead, and before he stepped away, I closed my eyes and tried hard to memorize this moment.
“I think—I think I’ll always love him a little bit. I’ll always have him in my heart. But he’s not the one I choose.
I don’t just want a part of you. I want all of you.”
I hated myself for being the one who made him bitter, because that was one thing he’d never been.
This is our start. This is the moment it becomes real. We are married. We are infinite. Me and Conrad. The first boy I ever slow danced with, ever cried over. Ever loved.
