Crawford and I silently agreed not to tell my parents about the miscarriage–not until my body was fully healed.}
With him beside me, I slowly began to feel like myself again; I stopped thinking about Slade so much.
My method of letting go was clumsy but clear–cut: Cut off everything. Every memory. Every person tied to him. No updates. No peeks. No what–ifs.
Only then could I start to let the wound close.
Today, Crawford brought me an old photo album from home.
He didn’t mention our past or how he felt.§
But I could tell–he was trying to remind me anyway.
The cover was a childhood drawing of a lopsided cat, a chubby dog, and words scrawled in crooked handwriting.” [Ginny & Fordy]
I placed the album on my lap as golden light poured through the window.
Page by page, the memories came rushing back like a flood.§
I first met Crawford when I was seven.§
He was standing at our front door, dressed in clothes that didn’t quite fit, carrying a canvas bag.§
He smelled like wind and dust.
My dad put a hand on his shoulder and said, “This is your home now.”
Crawford gave me a small nod and said shyly, “Hi, little sister.”
I stared at him for a long time before frowning.
“Why does he look like a skinny monkey?“}
Two of my front teeth were missing then, so I spoke with a lisp.
Dad awkwardly patted the back of my head, but Crawford just chuckled, soft and unafraid.”
“I’ll peel candy for you from now on,” he said.
From that day forward, I hardly ever left his side.
We rode bikes to school–me on the backseat, him pedaling with my bag on the handlebars.
Every time we passed the candy shop and I begged, he gave in. He spent his own pocket money on me.”
After school, when boys picked on me, he’d rush over and pull them off even if he came home with a bloody nose. “Don’t be scared, Ginny. I’m here.“}
Whenever I got sick, he was the first to notice.}
He’d sit by my bed through the night, gently changing my towels with cold, careful fingers.}
Even when I faked being sick, he saw through me.
“Lying’s wrong,” he said.
But still, he made me risotto, carried me to the hospital, and slipped me an orange–flavored gummy behind Dad’s back.”
When I failed a big exam, he sat with me all night in the courtyard, telling stories about eating skewers on the border and climbing mountain peaks.
I was too scared to cry anymore.}
He said, “What are you afraid of? You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever known.”}
I thought it was just the kind of praise family gives you.”
I didn’t realize that beneath every word, he was hiding a deeper feeling.
There had never been any clear boundaries between us.
He washed my hair, wrung out my towels, warmed my hands in winter, and took me fishing in the summer.
At night, when I was scared of the dark, I’d crawl into his room.
He’d share his pillow, turn his back, and stay perfectly still.
But deep down, I wasn’t entirely clueless.
One winter night in middle school, we were building snowmen outside.N
The sky was dark, and the snow was thick.
Suddenly, he leaned in and fixed my scarf, his cold fingers brushing past my ear, trembling slightly.
“Whoever marries you in the future–I’ll break his legs,” he half–joked.
I laughed, my voice a little squeaky. “You’re so possessive.”@
But those words stuck with me for a long time.
I think I first felt something shift during our school camping trip in 10th grade.a
We were sleeping in tents–girls in one, boys in another.!
Ensin that night and
ཁག་
and him his he did’s
11:30 AM
He’d share his pillow, turn his back, and stay perfectly still.”
But deep down, I wasn’t entirely clueless.}
One winter night in middle school, we were building snowmen outside.
The sky was dark, and the snow was thick.
Suddenly, he leaned in and fixed my scarf, his cold fingers brushing past my ear, trembling slightly.
“Whoever marries you in the future–I’ll break his legs,” he half–joked.”
I laughed, my voice a little squeaky. “You’re so possessive.“}
But those words stuck with me for a long time.
I think I first felt something shift during our school camping trip in 10th grade.§]
We were sleeping in tents–girls in one, boys in another.
I was freezing that night and messaged him, but he didn’t reply.
Then, minutes later, he sneaked over and draped his jacket over me.§
I watched his back as he walked away, and for the first time I thought, ‘His back is so broad. His shoulders feel like home.’
