If You Come Softly (13 page)
Time moves over us and past us, and the feeling of lips pressed against lips fades into memory. A picture yellows at its edges. A phone rings in an empty room.
And somewhere, somewhere there is this moment—me, opening the door to my apartment, calling to Marion and my father. They are in the living room—Marion is reading a book, my father the New York Times. When I walk in, I kiss them each hello, then sit down on the floor, my back against the fireplace.
“I want to tell you both something,” I say, my voice shaking. “Today, I wasn’t studying with friends. I was in Brooklyn. I was with a boy. His name is Jeremiah. He wants to meet you. Tomorrow.”
Time comes to us softly, slowly. It sits beside us for a while.
Then, long before we are ready, it moves on.
Many thanks to the friends and family who helped me get this story on the page including Kathryn Haber, Nancy Paulsen, Patti Sullivan, Toshi Reagon, Teresa Calabrese, Catherine Saalfield, Susie Hobart, Elisha Hobart, Reiko and Miyako, Linda Villarosa, and Charlotte Sheedy.
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