Agreed to go out with a co-worker. Dark pool hall, laughing tattooed dwarf bartender swinging his cue stick, smell of stale beer, a hand on my waist. I don't want to be here.
At a restaurant afterwards, there was a girl in wedge sandals and a Forever21 corset leaning against the bathroom sink unsteadily. "Don't I need Botox? Look at my eyes." They were caked in mascara but managed to focus on me for a moment. "No, you're beautiful." Went out to find my co-worker talking to some people. A Nigerian man with a British accent squeezed my hand, "Why is your drink still full?" I didn't take another sip of it. I don't want to be here.
Finally went back home.
The next day I got my kid back again. We rummaged through my box of old photos. Gavin pulled one out, looked at it for a long time, and put it on the fridge.
Bloomington, Indiana, summer 1986:
Heads together, rolled up on the bed, safe and together and all the time in the world.
This is where I want to be.
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