The boy and his ribbon

Sweet sixteen.

Just like my original discomfort and desire to skip over such a birthday, my resolution solidified with another memory of my own sweet sixteen.

Cassie had said I deserved something special.

I’d had my first blow job in the shadows of a stable.

Now, Della was sixteen and laughing with a boy I wanted to punch in the goddamn face.

I couldn’t stop whatever she would or would not do.

All I could do was celebrate my twenty-six birthday on my own.

I paid for our uneatened burgers.

I returned home to an empty apartment.

And I sat and watched the clock strike nine then ten then eleven and still Della didn’t come home.