The Secrets to New York

Ten | Secrets

I told you the truth about my family exactly five days after thanksgiving.

They’re not really dead I started out. I could only hope that you wouldn’t hate me for keeping a secret this big from you for so long. They left when I was little. I’ve been in foster homes my whole life. I guess they didn’t really want me, but that’s okay--nobody ever really has.

You didn’t get angry, or hurt that I didn’t tell you. You just pulled me into the warmth of your chest and kissed the top of my head. I was crying and you kept whispering over and over again I want you, Emery, I love you.

The words still replay through my head today; but they were just another lie I guess. Or maybe they were just words that lost their meaning, that happens sometimes, and it’s okay. Our wants and desires aren’t enough, I guess, because what we want always seems to change.

I remember feeling like I had conquered the world as we sat on the seat of the bus, huddled together to try and keep warm. We knew that there weren’t anymore secrets between us and that felt good. Secrets steal; they destroy.

I think that we were both so caught up in the way we were feeling in those moments to notice the bigger picture. Maybe we were moving too fast to realize that all we really needed was to slow down.