Seven Weeks

I knew we would fall in love the moment I shook his hand. I convinced him to join me. He was reluctant. He went quiet during my spring break, my stomach shrinking away from the inevitable. He broke it off the day after I was sleeping in his shirt. I screamed and rocked and cried and he stared as this confirmed his feelings. I couldn't taste my Nana's cooking for a week, my tongue dying in solidarity with my gut. Once I was his age, I couldn't blame him, but I could still hate him for making home food bland.