I showed you my secrets. I brought you into the hiding place in my parents closet where I keep soft blankets and books I like to look at. You sat down with me and we peeked through the holes in the wood, spying on the grownups out there, giggling as they did normal grownup things without knowing we were watching.
Every Sunday you came over and we played this game. One day, you asked me if I wanted to practice kissing like they do in the movies. I said yes. We pretended we thought it was gross at first, then kept doing it because it felt good. I gave you my favorite rock. The one I kept with me always, the one I found in Yellowstone park last winter when I went snowmobiling with my father and the herd of buffalo walked by so I had to jump into the deep snow off the trail. It came up to my waist. One rock sat on the white path once they passed. I wanted you to have it. Because it's special.
We explored the woods together. One time, when you were Mario and I was Luigi, we found a warp zone which brought us to another dimension. Right there in the woods we discovered a meadow. I collected pieces of birch bark for next season's fire (my grandaddy told me they are good burnin'). You found three lady slippers, but didn't pick them because they are rare and it was illegal to pick them. So we crouched down low to look into the bulging blossoms and guessed about the color of the lady's dress who was wearing them. Next to the fallen log with the mushrooms growing out of it was a patch of clover. I looked down (like I always did) to see if I could find a four leafed. It was my first one! I had to check one, two, three times before I really believed it. After spending hours looking for them, I wasn't sure they even existed and here I was, so lucky, to have found one of my own.
When you came over to examine it with me, your eyes lit up in such a way I couldn't help but give it to you. You hugged me, do you remember? And told me you would keep it safe forever.
***
Maybe you didn't mean to lose it. It was a hard thing to keep. When we pressed it in the Sesame Street Alphabet book under letter O, it was hard to see against Oscar the Grouch's green skin or fur or whatever covers his body.
I wouldn't have lost it though.
I cried when I found out you had given the rock away. Nobody saw me cry. I did it by myself in the special spot in the closet. And you told Stacy that I made you practice kissing me there and she told lots of people.
That's when it started to grow. I couldn't cry in front of the others, so I changed the sadness into something else, something I could stretch over my thoughts of you so that I wouldn't have to feel that hurt in the same way. I kept it inside and added to it, feeding it with the knowing that I was right and you were wrong.
It was the only thing I brought into my secret closet now. I sat in there and imagined myself doing everything better than you. Winning the race in gym class and growing up to be more beautiful so that other people wanted me more and I would kiss them someday right in front of you.
How could you do that? Why did you treat me that way? How could you forget how special those gifts were?
These are the things I thought, but didn't tell anyone. I had to keep it secret. I didn't want anyone to know about my pain, so it kept growing. Maybe I thought I could give it to you someday.
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