Tough Love

When I was down, you were always the one to pick me up with your sugar cane smiles and capital letters.
If ever I needed a friend, you were jumping on spot with your hand in the air, shouting "pick me, pick me". So I picked you, like I picked pansies for my mother.
In the winter time when my bones felt so brittle my skeleton could collapse at a sheer nudge, you gave me hot chocolate and cuddles that flooded my veins with warmth so wonderful I wanted to bury myself in you.
When I fell ill that week we all went snow boarding, and you volunteered to stay at the cabin and look after me. You gave me kisses and chicken soup. Strawberry tarts and head massages. And when the snow came and we got shut in. Alone. We made love by the roaring fire and used each other as blankets until someone remembered us and shovelled away our barrier.
As I remember, you came to pick me up every Friday, Saturday and Sunday night so we could eat out at some cheap Chinese food place and talk about the weather. You said "it's good bonding time" and I just laughed and ate my noodles.
When I broke up with that boy, the one you had always said was never good enough for me, yeah him, when I broke up with him, you were the only one who cared about how I was feeling. Apart from my mother who gave me tissues and a hug. You were the only one who considered how my heart was dealing with such miserable things, even though I was the Big Bad Wolf.
When it was two days until my senior ball and I still didn't have a man friend to tag along with, you offered your hand and slipped a purple flower on my wrist to match my purple gown. And you sped away with me in your car while I shouted at mom that everything would be fine.
I do recall that cold autumn morning when we sat alone on my bed playing video games and punching each other in the arm drinking copious amounts of black coffee and still buzzing from the night out. And you turned to me without pausing your game and stared at me. "You're gonna lo-" your mouth crushed against mine like the waves crush the shores. I dropped the controller and buried my hands in your mane of black hair.
Later that week I remember you showing up at my house with some flowers you quickly pulled out of your nanna's garden, containing weeds mainly and a few lousy daisies. I put them in my best crystal vase.
When you asked me to be your, lady friend as you put it, my heart burst through my chest and covered the walls in happiness and rainbows.
You took me out to dinner that night. And not at the tacky Chinese food place. Somewhere fancy, with candles and people playing soothing music. And there was wine and fine cheese. But I would have rather stayed at home in our pyjamas drinking beer and watching TV.
When ever you smiled at me I got those itchy butterflies in my tummy that made me go all giggly and nervous.
Now when you smile at me I feel sick. And the butterflies all hide away in their caves.
The first night we slept together as a couple, 2 months and 3 days and 6 hours after I became your lady friend, you told me everything was going to be alright.
8 weeks later when I peed on that small stick and the stupid freaking smiley face beamed up at me from my shaking fingers, I cried. And then I washed my hands and threw the stick on the table in front of you where you sat rolling another fag.
The look on your face.
When I saw your eyes all I could see was anger. Anger and fear. You tore the stare I held on you away, stood up, screeching the chair across the vinyl and muttered 4 sickening words at me.
"Get rid of it"
I clenched my belly and cried.
Its been 6 months now and I still haven't heard from you, or seen you. Anywhere. Your mother wont tell me where you are either. And I've written numerous letters to you, without an address to post them to. You should see the pile. Its slowly growing.
Growing, just like my tummy. No tops will fit over the bulging lump I call your baby.
My mother comforts me at night when she hears me crying and she bundles me into her arms and whispers soothing words into my deaf ears.
And soon the baby will be born, and his eyes will be cornstarch blue. Just like yours. And his smile will make dimples appear on his left cheek. Just like yours. And when it grows, his hair will be the same harsh black. Just like yours.
And everything about him will remind me of you.