And No One Drank Just One Shot

Alice Started To Cry. It Came With No Sound, No Shuddering, No Childlike Hysterics, Just A Soul-deep Release That Turned Into Moisture And Dripped Down Her Puffy Pink Cheeks. She Touched Her Tears, Frowning. Then She Looked Up At Julia And Whimpered Two Words Before She Fell Asleep. ‘real Hurts.’

Oh, Mia. You Haven’t Even Begun To Find Out Who You Really Are, And, Believe Me, Other Boys Are Going To Fall In Love With You. If A Guy Can’t See How Special You Are, He Isn’t Good Enough For You.

It Was True; Always Had Been. Friendships Were Like Marriages In That Way. Routines And Patterns Were Poured Early And Hardened Like Cement.

He Was Afraid That The Secrets She'd Kept Would Always Be Here, Inside Him, An Ugly Malignant Thing Lodged Near Enough To His Heart To Upset Its Rhythm, And Though It Could Be Removed, Cut Out, There Would Always Be Scars; Bits And Pieces Of It Would Remain In His Blood, Making It Wrong Somehow, So That If He Accidentally Sliced His Skin Open, His Blood Would--for One Heartbeat--flow As Black As India Ink Before It Remembered That It Should Be Red.

Nobody's Strong Enough To Be A Parent. We Just Do It, Blindly, Going Forward On Faith And Love And Hope. That's All It Is...being Afraid...and Going On.