It Was Always Late At Night, When

You Couldn't Just Pick And Choose At Will When Someone Depended On You, Or Loved You. It Wasn't Like A Light Switch, Easy To Turn On Or Off. If You Were In, You Were In. Out, You Were Out.

What Did It Feel Like, I Wondered, To Love Someone That Much? So Much That You Couldn't Even Control Yourself When They Came Close, As If You Might Just Break Free Of Whatever Was Holding You And Throw Yourself At Them With Enough Force To Easily Overwhelm You Both.

So Say I’m Your Mom.' 'what?' I Said. 'i’m Your Mom,' He Repeated. 'now Tell Me You Want To Quit Modeling.' I Could Feel Myself Blushing. 'i Can’t Do That,' I Said. 'why Not?' He Asked. 'is It So Hard To Believe? You Think I’m Not A Good Role-player?' 'no,' I Said. 'it’s Just–' 'because I Am. Everyone Wanted Me To Be Their Mother In Group.' I Just Looked At Him. 'i Just… It’s Weird.' 'no, It’s Hard. But Not Impossible. Just Try It.' A Week Earlier, I Hadn’t Even Known What Color His Eyes Were. Now, We Were Family. At Least Temporarily.

Because It Is So Hard, In Any Life, To Believe In What You Can’t Fully Understand.

It's Hard To Do," I Said. Wes Looked At Me. "what Is?" I Swallowed, Not Sure Why I'd Said This Out Loud. "get It Right.