the day i met amy tan
“my mother was nuts,” she announced unabashedly,
later further elucidating…
“two eyes smashed upon the cold, black street like,”
some fish she hardly articulated
“mine, too, is” i thought as she unveiled her muse
“i bet they always spell it wrong,” she later smiled
unaware of the tears she’d evoked, still soaking my impenetrable cheeks
“of course,” i said
followed with a mesmerized, “thank you”
she thought it was for the autograph
write your scars, my darling
write, ariel, write
He emerged from the bathroom dragging in that it’s Saturday and I don’t really want to go to work way. I desperately inched toward him in that I know but I’m just not ready way, presenting him with a plate of deliciousness I’d pieced together from the vestiges of our last trip to the grocery store.
“I made breakfast while you were showering,” my voice cracked.
“How do you do this?” he asked. “You always make something wonderful out of almost nothing.”
“I am a woman,” I quipped. “I’m a good woman.”
His jaw dropped. His eyes followed. With his head hung in shame, he muttered, “I know.”
His barely audible confession behind him, he sat down to eat the meal with the same thoughtless indulgence he’d devoured everything I’d given him during the year and half we’d been together. My heart. My mind. My soul. My body . . . sank into the couch beside him.
I followed him around his studio apartment with my eyes as he dressed for work. When he stepped outside and closed the door behind him, my heart sank. With the taste of him still on my lips, I mouthed, “something (wonderful) out of almost nothing . . . Something. (Wonderful.) Out. Of. Almost. Nothing.”
The next time I saw him face-to-face, weeks later, we were no longer a couple. He dumped me via Facebook message.
It’s time to write this scar, I’ve decided. I am a woman. I’m a good woman. Yes, this will be something wonderful, indeed.