A Photograph

You – yes, you with the unbelievably large sunglasses. If I look carefully, I can see two people I love in one – look at the reflection in the mirrored lenses – see him? Crouching, with his black hat on – you are glaring at each other – two big posers, and I am laughing at both of you, away at one side. You can’t see me, but you know I was there.

If I could go back – if I could go back …. I’d swallow my pride. I’d tell you you could have whatever the fuck word you wanted – even if it wasn’t at all allowed in the rules, even if I knew I was right. I’d say it didn’t matter. I’d say I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to cheat. I would be ok about that. Then I’d say;

“Why don’t we go and have a drink somewhere? To celebrate your mighty win”

And both of us would get very drunk – that wouldn’t be hard – I’d challenge you to a drinking competition. Shots. I’d let you win, even though I could if I wanted.

And then, on the way back home, in the hot windless night, I would probably have to hold onto you, for balance of course

Then, hopefully you would have got the message, and we would have ended up in a better place, for when all the sad stuff happened. We would have had each other to hold onto, instead of what did happen – all the fucked up things we did

We might have had other summers then, where you could have worn your hat at a jaunty angle whenever you felt like it, and I would have laughed at you from the side, and we would both have been a bit happier.

Everyday I would have told you how brilliant you were, and we could have worked out a system where we each won exactly the same number of scrabble games – we could have kept a book for it, with columns.

There might still be time – if you’re game; up for a challenge? Think about it.