you came and took care of me. I was embarrassed, but you didn’t care.
with swollen jaws and slurred speech and a mouthful of ****** gauze,
you still looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman you had ever met.
three months:
you weren’t paying attention and you crashed your car.
the car was totaled. the airbags went off, the windshield cracked.
I wasn’t hurt at all. you hurt your neck.
the first thing you did was get me out of the car and onto the side of the road
even though you were the one who was hurting.
four months:
I spent nights at your place. we made it official.
I let you touch me. I wanted you to touch me. I hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.
we drank. we kissed. we had ***.
the next morning, you weren’t gone like I thought you would be.
you had your arm wrapped around me.
you’re a heavy sleeper. I smiled and went right back to sleep.
five months:
it was my birthday. I told you that I never really celebrated my birthday.
I was still in school, but I didn’t go that day. I spent the day with you instead.
before you, I never felt so loved.
I spent Christmas with your family. I had never celebrated Christmas.
six months:
I took my shirt off in front of you.
I hadn’t done that yet. for half a year, I slept with my shirt on. we had *** with my shirt on. you didn’t push me to.
you saw my scars. I thought for sure you would leave.
you didn’t even blink. you hugged me and you kissed me and you didn’t see me any differently.
seven months:
not much happened that month.
I got close with your family.
you’re not American. you had lived here before but you had moved back only seven months earlier. you weren’t planning on staying, so you were living in your parents’ house.
it was awkward because they were so nice to me. I kept waiting for something bad to happen. nothing did.
I started leaving my toothbrush in your bathroom.
eight months:
you wanted to meet my family.
family has always been important to you.
we drove out to Ohio to meet my uncle and my little cousins.
they’re the least eccentric members of my family, but they’re still dysfunctional. I didn’t know how to warn you. so I didn’t.
you met my cousin. you realized he was nonverbal. you sat with him and you talked to him like he was any other twelve-year-old.
you both played video games. more like you played, and he watched. but I had never seen him so happy. he didn’t have to talk. his smile showed me everything.
my youngest cousin loved you too. you played with her dolls and you gave them funny voices when you did. she laughed every time.
nine months:
we got into an argument. it was nothing serious, but we hadn’t argued before.
you didn’t hit me. you got up and walked away. somehow that scared me even more.
I waited for you to come back with something worse than a punch.
you came back with a hug and an “I love you.”
ten months:
we went to a fertility clinic.
obviously we didn’t want children yet, but my friend told me that early treatment might be the key to helping me.
I didn’t want you to come with me, but you insisted.
it was bad news. I cried. you wiped my tears and told me that if we ever had a baby, it doesn’t matter how.
what would matter is how we raise that child, blood or not. I told you again how much I love you.
eleven months:
I relapsed with my self-harm addiction.
eighteen new scars and over sixty stitches later, I came home.
you took care of me. you never should’ve had to do that, but you did.
I healed with you by my side.
one year:
we moved in together. you met my brothers.
you weren’t intimidated by my brother. he tried.
he was so rude to you and eventually you snapped and told him to shut the **** up. he smiled and so did I. he said that you were a keeper.
you weren’t afraid to stand up to him, even though he was my brother. no one had done that before.
your love for me outweighed your fear of my family.
my brother loved you after that.
years:
I graduated school and you went back to get another degree.
we hit hard times and we had great times and through it all, we were happy.
it wasn’t easy to stay. sometimes I felt like running so that you couldn’t leave me first. I stayed. so did you.