What Never Happened

You have no idea.” I crunch into a taquito.

ransom even though you’re broke, and it demands that you keep it company even though it’s fused to every molecule in your body. Guilt makes you scream, “What more do you want?” even though it’s already taken everything, including your happily ever after.

Guilt is irrational, Dr. Tamaguchi has told me several times. Guilt demands

You have to stop and face your demons before you can win the game. You may get a little bloody, even lose a limb—or a few fingers—but know this.” At a stop sign, he looks over to me. “Running ain’t gonna make it go away.

You fucked around—and you found out.

Don’t ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.

There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered. —Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom

You’ve survived the worst. Now become the best.

Gwen’s neck swerves. “Wish he would step foot on this island. I’m old but I’ll still cut a bitch. I know people—they old, too, but they got sons and daughters happy to start some shit.

Maddy, with her earbuds in, works the handlebars of an elliptical

Guilt demands ransom even though you’re broke, and it demands that you keep it company even though it’s fused to every molecule in your body. Guilt makes you scream, “What more do you want?” even though it’s already taken everything, including your happily ever after.

Y’know, I cut my finger on a mandoline once. I stole it, so I guess the universe said, ‘Bitch, please.

Ha. This bitch really thinks I trust her.

At sixteen, she was already over drinking, over “being bad.

Wish he would step foot on this island. I’m old but I’ll still cut a bitch.

Because promises are potato chips. They’re cheap. Easy to break. Too many hurt your heart.

And thank you for not laughing at me. People tend to disregard us old ladies—they think we’re only good for sewing robes and making hot chocolate, that we’re crazy since we can no longer bear children. But we’re smarter than everyone because we don’t have distractions anymore. No kids. No husbands for many of us. We always knew the evil that men did, and we still do. Just now, no one believes us.

We warned you, Colette. You fucked around—and you found out.