Heather has always known how to keep secrets. She makes me talk and talk and talk only because I am a talker but mainly because she is quiet and eager to hear my wild new stories of What and Who and Where.
I keep forgetting she remembers everything. Damn, you would not believe the things she keeps between those six quiet earrings she wears.
My favorite color is sometimes blue, sometimes black. I like springsummerautumnwinter. I like rain. I like people. I like to talk. I always order the Burger with spicy fries. I will never pretend to like someone I do not.
What is your favorite color, Heather. What is your favorite season. And she will tell me. These are things I could figure out on my own, you know. These are things anyone could know just by watching her silent moves.
Please Ms. Heather, I say. Please tell me your What and Who and Where. Are you doing the same things as me somewhere else. Please tell me who you love today. And she will laugh, change the topic, ask me if I am thinking of Him or Him or Him and which one is it I am wanting to be asked about.
She does not understand maybe I want to know the same things about her. She is deliberately slow about this. She is very wisely keeping herself safe. She is stupidly keeping herself a secret, when I know she has sparkly things to show me. When I know she is full of bright colors.