Jigsaw Youth

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“My mother tried to commit suicide the day she found out she was pregnant.”

Red lips curling into a smile. Pale hand gently tucking jet black hair behind an ear. Black nail polish, slightly chipped. She seemed nervous, of course, it was the first time she’d let me in. This was Hope, twenty-one and broken. I was twenty-four, much the same.

She’d entered my life at a time where all I could do was sleep, I was so angry at everything. I’d wake some nights and cry myself back under. Everything like a bad dream. It was winter, and she seemed so beautiful and warm.

We were out for coffee, sitting by a large window and listening to freezing rain. We laughed each time people slipped on the ice. Hours feeling like minutes, the mugs warm in our hands. In the middle of the story, she stopped, smirked at me and stared, mouthing, “You’re going to be in trouble. .”

Hope reached across the table and took my hand, and led me to the restroom. She locked the door, and I understood the trouble she meant. Her hand tracing up my skirt, pulling down my leggings. Mouth on mine before I could make a sound. She smelled like vanilla. I leaned my head back.

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