Every Girl I've Loved A Lifetime Ago

Carmela

I followed Carmela like a shadow, with starry eyes and quick feet.
I treated her like a goddess, and my mamá thought it was so funny.
Carmela started leaving her front door unlocked, just for me.
Because I kept going to her house after school to see her.
I wanted to be her someday.
With her red slip on dresses, mascara tears, and Olympic diver grace.
She always smelled like clover, smiled like she never would again, and cheated at Monopoly.
Sometimes there were boys in her kitchen when I came over.
With their heart in the clouds, their feet on the floor, and their hands in her hair.
She'd glance at me, push them away, and ask me how my school day went like there wasn't a complete stranger in her kitchen with his eyes on her ass and his shirt on backwards.
And no matter how many times this happened, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
The boys would never stay long and they never came back.
When they left- fishing out their car keys, waving Carmela goodbye, awkwardly nodding at me- I felt myself settle back into my skin.
Carmela paid attention to my stories, she hummed the songs on the radio, and if she didn't know what to do with her hands, she rubbed the back of her neck.
My mamá joked that I liked Carmela better than I liked her.
If she knew the truthful answer to that then she wouldn't laugh at it so much.
I wanted to be Carmela someday.
That's what made sense.
With her sun kissed thighs, raven hair, and Cleopatra eyes.
She was beautiful and magical and untouchable to my elementary school self.
I wanted to be Carmela, but the older I got, the more I dwelled upon the possibility that I wanted to be with Carmela.