(From those days when I was much younger and used to be called Marie)
is not the only reason
I’m going home
I found myself looking at the shadow drawn on the sand. My own shadow.
A few kids were playing in the ponds the high tide had left.
John’s gone. John’s gone and probably will never come back.
Why does it happen? Why is always someone leaving someone behind?
A soft breeze threw some fine drops of water into my face.
If it hadn’t been for that brunette with long black hair and dark deep eyes he would be with me now.
He would be caressing me and making me feel the luckiest human being on earth. John was so tender, so lovely and seemed to be so sincere. Why then?
Why should some stupid brunette show up and take him away from me?
Is not the only reason
I'm going home
Mammy and Daddy miss me for sure. I didn’t read the last letter mammy wrote.
John wouldn’t let me. He was kissing too hard and I dropped the sheet of paper.
It must have slipped underneath the bed. I never thought about it again. What a tremendous fault to forget completely about one’s mother’s letter.
I definitely must go and see them. They’re always so generous to me, so full of understanding and all. I won’t need to tell them exactly what happened. They will know, somehow, that some George, or John or Michael has deserted me. I must go back to my apartment and look for mammy’s letter. I’m longing to know what she says about her and daddy. Suppose they’re ill, or worse…
Did he leave me because my hair is short and fair and my eyes are not black and deep? Maybe he did. Or maybe not. After all, looks aren’t everything and it ends up by being irrelevant when you’re young and handsome and it is Midsummer. Midsummer is meant for people to make changes. To have new loves, new experiences.
( When we made love I felt like when I’m swimming: frightened, lost, but awfully, tremendously happy. All his.
Thought he was all mine, too…)