You Could Just Tell When A Person

But She Wouldn't. I Knew That Already. My Mother And I Had An Understanding: We Worked Together To Be As Much In Control Of Our Shared World As Possible. I Was Suposed To Be Her Other Half, Carrying My Share Of The Weight. In The Last Few Weeks, I'd Tried To Shed It, And Doing So Sent Everything Off Kilter. So Of Course She Would Pull Me Tighter, Keeping Me In My Place, Because Doing So Meant She Would Always Be Sure, Somehow, Of Her Own.

When He First Put His Arms Around Me, It Was Tentative, Like Maybe He Expected I'd Pull Away. When I Didn't, He Moved In Closer, His Hands Smoothing Over My Shoulders, And In My Mind I Saw Myself Retreating A Million Times When People Tried To Do This Same Thing: My Sister Or My Mother, Pulling Back And Into Myself, Tucking Everything Out Of Sight, Where Only I Knew Where To Find It. This Time, Though, I Gave In. I Let Wes Pull Me Against Him, Pressing My Head Against His Chest, Where I Could Feel His Heart Beating, Steady And True.

I Knew I Had To Keep Him To Myself, As I'd Slowly Begun To Keep Everything. We Had Secrets Now, Truths And Half-truths, That Kept Her Always At Arm's Length, Behind A Closed Door, Miles Away.

It's Nice To Have Options Even If You Can't Take Them.

There Are Some Things In This World You Rely On, Like A Sure Bet. And When They Let You Down, Shifting From Where You've Carefully Placed Them, It Shakes Your Faith, Right Where You Stand.