CYNTHIA KIM is a co-owner of an eclectic small press by day and a some-time fiction writer by night. She has recently had stories appear in Eclectica and Conversely as well as a forthcoming piece in the inaugural issue of Night Train.

                                         some things i should have told you


1. The locket
When I was five, I lost Grandma’s locket somewhere between the bus stop and home. I lied. “Tommy Grant stole it. Honest.”  I was afraid you’d be mad.

2. About Mr. Willinger
When I was nine, old Mr. Willinger stuck his hand up my skirt every day for two weeks. “I can’t walk his dog anymore for him,” I told you. “I think I got allergies.” I was afraid it was my fault.

3. It wasn’t just that once
When I was thirteen and you found the cigarettes in my sweat jacket,  I said they were Jenny’s and I only tried one, “just to see what it was like.” I was afraid you’d figure out I’d been sneaking yours since fifth grade.

4. My first time
When I was sixteen, I fell in love. “I’m spending the night at Jenny’s,” I’d say. True enough. Mick was Jenny’s brother. I knew you wouldn’t like him.

5. You should have told me (I)
When I was sixteen, I got knocked up. That’s what you would of called it, but you didn’t need to know. Jenny and Mick helped me take care of it. It was none of your business.

6. You should have told me (II)
When I was twenty-eight and got rushed to the ER with a fractured skull and four cracked ribs I called Aunt Terry to drive me to the shelter because I knew you wouldn’t understand.

7. I should have told you (I)
When I was thirty-one,  I talked to your doctors for the first time. They said things like depression, commit, ECT. I signed the papers and went home without seeing you. I was afraid you’d be mad at me.

8. I should have told you (II)
When I was forty-two,  I lied for the last time. Cancer. Terminal. Two months. Words my tongue would not form. "You’re sick," I said, "but the doctors will make you better, you’ll see." I was afraid you’d die.

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© 2002 Cynthia Kim