I read books and had the practice wedding in Sunday school, where Benjamin got to break the glass with his foot while I watched--I watched films, I knew what I looked forward to. As sure as I knew my baby teeth would fall out. But unprepared for five years old, when my first loose tooth fell in. Not me and him but me and Sandrita, little milagra, on the swings, she knocked into me and the tooth was swallowed whole and nothing to show for it. I had the tooth fairy pegged from day one-- how would she have have known to look for the empty promise under my pillow? Now every time you stretch your neck to glance up at the moon, hair behind your ear, roll up one sleeve and then the other, every time I fall again to five, unblinking eyes, something shatters and I have to run my tongue over the gap in my gums, leave a note for my mother so she can see her girl smile gap-toothed for the fairy who will never come. You tilt your head towards me and I must take the promise of the broken glass beneath Benjamin's foot and swallow it whole.