Forget Me Not

by Julie Soto

Because you can find a person’s ratio of light, water, and attention, and it still won’t be enough.

“Maybe someone could talk me into a flower.” Her voice is low. Vowels round and slow. “You already are a flower.” I regret it the second it’s out of my mouth. It’s not smooth. It’s not sexy.

You may think everything ends one day, but you haven’t had ‘everything’ with me.”

<3<3<3

“No labels?” I add helpfully. She grins. “Labels have expiration dates.” What I’m hearing is that she doesn’t want this thing between us to end. That excites me. The idea that she wants to look into the future and still see me is intoxicating. It whispers promises into my chest that she’s making clear she won’t voice aloud.

She snorts a laugh, and I almost say it. I almost say I love you. But I don’t know that she wants me to. I think we could be together for forty years with twenty kids, and she still wouldn’t want to hear it. So I hold her until her breathing evens out, and whisper it soundlessly, like a prayer.

<3<3<3

She smiles softly at me, and says, “I think…I think I may be falling in love with you.” My heart thumps. I can’t believe she said it first. I can’t believe I have permission to say it. Her eyes flick up to mine hesitantly, as if she ever needed to doubt I’d say it back. There’s a flower in my chest, just now starting to meet sunlight, finally blossoming. I can hear my mother laugh at something Stefan says to her, but I can’t take my eyes off Ama. I hear my mother’s happiness in her laughter—I’ve seen it. No one should have to wait for happiness a second longer than they have to.