Sometimes

I would stop by sometimes, after work or before a pint. Never after a pint, never at all. I always looked forward to seeing them. I always watched their family dynamics, to see what they were like beyond their words.

Veser always reminded me of her. He had her hair, and those brilliantly green eyes. He didn't have her mouth, for sure, and definitely had a tongue of his own. I don't know where he learned half the things he said. I guess school boys his age are rowdy. I know I was. I liked Veser a lot. He got into a lot of fights, but he's a good kid. He's smart, too. God, if only I was that smart when I was his age.

Sometimes she'd sing to him in her old country's language. I have no idea where she was from. She sounded Laplandic or Slavic. I'm not good with accents. She was beautiful, though. More beautiful than anything I've everr seen. She never paid me more mind than to let me know if her husband was in or not. I always knew if she were mine, I would hold her tight and listen; listen to all her hopes, her dreams: listen to her stories and songs: listen to her words and her heart.

Mostly, I talked to Veser. I asked about school, about what game he was playing, the mundane things. I suppose I wanted what of her was in him to rise up out of his body and come home and stay with me. God, he had her eyes. He was just like her, and yet not at all.

Sometimes, on those lonely nights, I would stop by and pretend to be part of their family, at least for a little while. Usually, on the way home from work, occasionally on the way to a pub. I would watch her interact with her son, and secretly wish I was his father. I would hang around for a few minutes and move on. I would put my hands in my pockets and walk down those cold, lonely streets.



For Mariah, the love of my life.
I love you, always.
-Madison