share him

we all grew up together. same damn town.  went to school together.  same Sunday school class.  our parents fed us together.  we attended each other’s weddings. celebrated the birth of all 11 of my children and all 8 of yours. you were there when God took back my infant.  you cried with me.  Helped me be the mom the others needed and celebrated the births of the others. some of our kids dated. fell in love with each other. married. and now our grandchildren and great-grands and so on are cousins. our families tied. extended. blended. forever. we laughed about it whenever we visited each other.  you were important to me. more than just my friend. you were like my sister.

my question to you is, after all this. all these years. laughter, tears, friendship, why did you sleep with him?  Even if he’s the one who initiated it, why wasn’t our bond tight enough for you to lay with your own and leave mine alone?  Even if he preferred your pretty red skin over my smooth dark tone, why wasn’t our sisterhood strong enough for you to turn away from him?  Even if his caramel sweetness and his soft hair, his bow legs and sweet talk was intoxicating at sight and sound, why wasn’t our pact powerful enough for you to resist.  Yes, I should blame him, but I don’t. cause he’s a man. and you’re beautiful. and just as you and I bonded, he also felt a connection with you as well. You with your “better” color and your “quality” hair.  you who understood words better than I did. spoke more logically.  you who had a husband to move you up the hill and away from the misery. you. you knew better. should have known better.  I loved him. needed him. enough to be willing to turn a blind eye to his desire for you. enough to ignore the hidden moments between you two. enough to share him. with you.

So now that he’s dead and gone.  and I’m gone to be with him. have him all to myself finally.  Now that you’re alone. tell me. which one of your 8 is his?

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