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After lunch back at home, she said she was going to take a nap. When I returned later that night, I found a note taped to the garage door. As if maybe seeing her would keep me from making the inevitable choice. I stroked her hair, apologizing over and over again.
Her dad said, “Okay, baby,” as though she’d been through something terrible. A page long in her careful handwriting, explaining that she and her mother always played elaborate pranks on each other on April Fool’s Day. He wasn’t totally wrong—after all, she was the only reason I hadn’t done this sooner. Afterward, we walked down South Congress for an ice cream cone, our faces puffy in the streetlight glow.
She’d taken drugs I hadn’t touched, had bounced from the triad of her mother, her aunt, and her grandmother throughout her childhood. I sighed, lightheaded again with how quickly my anger could fade.
Life had made her whip-smart and fearless, with flashing eyes the color of the Guadalupe in sunlight. She was starting a new life here, with nothing but us as her anchors. Suddenly I wondered: was this what being a mother was like?
It’s the time of year when Nkqinqa, 18, and about 50,000 other South African boys, come to one of the many remote initiation schools in order to learn how to be a man.
The next day, the 13 boys in his cohort consecutively go to see a surgeon. I guess that’s why I told my wife I loved her on our second date. But it wasn’t that she wasn’t giving me love, it just seemed to come at different times. I don’t think I noticed this consciously for a while. And after each time, there would be this look she would give me. It wasn’t something I could force, just something that would come about as a result of my giving. And how much I’m sure those messages are bouncing around in other people’s heads as well. Living Disney movies in our minds, and tragedies in our lives.I had tried really hard up to that point to hold it back, honestly. I think part of me recognized that she was much smarter and more modest than me. This fire was burning in me, a fire that burned just like that second date: I was in love. Marriage, quicker than I was ready for, did this thing: it started sucking away that emotion. In other words, it was in the practicality that I found the love I was looking for. That fire I felt, it was simply that: emotional fire. I think that might be a big part of the reason the divorce rate is so high in this country. It’s time that we changed the conversation about love. Because until we do, adultery will continue to be common. ” In the silence that followed, I heard myself the way she must have heard me: hysterical. My stepdaughter was fourteen the way I had never been fourteen. She was more beautiful, her body more womanly, than any fourteen-year-old has the maturity to handle.
Once, she and I went to dinner and the waitress brought her the glass of wine I’d ordered. And even when I let it out of my chest, it wasn’t love. Telling someone you love them doesn’t mean that you do.