Kyle

Love Me

My breath sawed in and out of my lungs. I couldn’t lose him, not the one who held me tight when my pieces fell apart. Helped me glue them back together again when all was said and done. He’d become the rock from which I grew and flourished, and taking him away would crumble the delicate walls I’d constructed around myself. I couldn’t let him go.

“Kyle, I don’t want your money.” I squeezed his hand, wanting to make sure he was hearing me. “I just want you. I want to hold your hand in public, I want to hold you like you mean the world to me, because you do. I want to point you out to my great-grammie, my aunty Mel, and to cashiers at Safeway and say, ‘Hey, you see that beautiful man over there? Yeah, well he’s mine.’ And I want to cuddle with you at football games and during lunch while telling everyone else that It’s ‘Waaaaaay to chilly for spring in Cali.’” I sucked in a huge breath of air, preparing my self for my last words I had left to convince him I loved him. “I’ve wanted to hold you hand since second grade. I’ve longed to kiss you since 5th. And I’ve wanted to be your girlfriend since we were 4.” With nothing left to give, I dropped my hands and hung my head, waiting for him to walk away, and leave me to weep.