“She adored having you in her class.”
“She was a good teacher.” I sat forward. “You should know, I filled every single one of those journals. And a lot more.”
“With what?”
“Thoughts, memories.” I shrugged. “Letters, stories, some shit poetry.”
She laughed. “I’d bet my right arm not a single word on those pages is shit.”
“Doesn’t matter. They weren’t for anyone else anyway.” I dropped my hat back on the table and swiped my sweaty palms down my jeans. “Those pages…they’re the only place I’ve ever been real.”
Like an all-seeing eye, she filled in the blank again. Her super power. “You’ve never told anyone your story.” Not a question—a statement.
“No ma’am.”
“Are you here to tell me?”
I hesitated. “I—I don’t know if I can.”
She sat forward, interlacing her fingers over her knees. “Tag.”
I caught her gaze.
“We go your speed. You’re safe right here.”
I couldn’t curb the desperation in my voice, hating the way it shook. “I need help. I don’t want to be alone.”
“We all need help sometimes. And I promise I’ll do my best to be there for you.”
I closed my eyes, trying to pinpoint a starting spot amid all the muck and mire of my childhood.
Miss Simone was in no hurry to make me talk.
Panic swept up my throat, clawing at my esophagus. I knew whatwas ahead. I knew what I needed to discuss, but damn it all, I was terrified. My body already clenched in anticipation of the coming topics, a chord of tension drawing my shoulders tight.
After a minute, she prodded me, her question chiseling a crack into my apprehension. “If you sat down to write in your journal at this very moment, what would you write?”
I didn’t have to think. “I’d write about the thing that ruined my life.”
“And what is that?”
“The rain.”
PART ONE
I find myself in smudges
Between warm skin and paper
Ink whispers all my secrets
When shame’s hand grips my tongue.
ONE
Iblame the rain.
Maybe that isn’t fair though.