He asks what if he snuck over right now. Would you let him in? The dorm is quiet; the hall of giddy girls finally sleep. Night watch not really watching.
He knows your roommate has decided a summer job is better than summer enrichment. You are alone. You are decisive.
You don’t think he knows you miss him. You surprise yourself with how much in a week. Your quits has been more like not todays. You surprise yourself by answering him at all and by your answer.
But he has known since he met her that the girl on the other line owns herself. Only you surprise yourself by how much. You worry when he laughs, “Just wondering.” But there is more than wondering you hear.
He has tested you and you have failed. You are sure of it and turn on your version of Proof. It ties your sneaker; writes you letters; pastes your picture to the bedroom wall; gives you time, a school picture; remembers anniversaries. How else can you be sure he’s more than the request of his body? How else can you turn yours off?
Caught off guard—she said yes!—he laughs. Doesn’t oblige; just laughs. But it is not a laugh you hear. Hear a red scribble across your page.
darlene anita scott 