poems about elliot ✓

4: {hope}

i wish i had known better
than to hope and pray that
this winter
would be the same as every other
because once the wanting starts,
it never ceases
and once you fall in love,
it's not so easy
to fall out of it.

Maxine is talkative. Maxine is fantastical. Maxine is unique. And ordinarily, I adore it. I adore the way her eyebrows squish together when she talks about time paradoxes, I adore the way her hands wave when she debates things with me, I adore how she shakes my hand at the end of every discussion when we inevitably agree to disagree. Today, though, my foot is tapping on the floor, and my eyes are fixed on Elliot. There's mistletoe in the nearest doorway behind him, and I want to ask him about boarding school and all the people there. How many did you kiss? How many of the pretty girls and boys? He told me when we were children that he was going to kiss someone when he finally went away to boarding school. He told me that he was going to, and I want to know who it was. I want to know if her lips were red or if his hair was dark. I want to pick them apart so that I know how to put my own pieces together. I want to make him want me the way he wants Milo. I need him to look at me the way he's looking at Milo. Milo shakes her head like a dog, and the shaggy strands fly through the air. Elliot laughs a crystal laugh. Maxine taps my knee. I make an effort to turn towards her.

Mom walks in a while later with a plate of cookies. She tells us that this winter season is going to be grand. She tells us that Maxine's mother called and she needs to be home by five. She tells us that it's four-thirty, that we have only a little while longer before Maxine must go. I relish the idea of her leaving now, even though I was the one who invited her here. I relish the idea of being alone with Elliot, even if it's for a moment or two while Milo uses the bathroom or gets a refill of her cocoa. He sleeps in my bedroom, I have to remind myself. We have all night, every night, for the rest of the holidays. But that's not enough. I need the daylight hours. Maxine goes home at five, and Mom comes back into the room. She tells Milo that there's a friend on the phone for her. She tells me to show Elliot up the stairs, even though he knows this place better than his own home. She tells us we should catch up, that we've barely talked at all in the time that he's been here.

I take Elliot up to my room. There's mistletoe in the doorway, and my heart gives a little twang as we pause under it. I refuse to look up. I keep my eyes planted firmly on the floor. I can hear Elliot breathing beside me. "Your room looks the same," Elliot tells me. "I guess some things never change." It's meant to be a little joke - I haven't changed my decor in the longest time. But it hurts instead, because Elliot has changed. He has changed since boarding school. Boarding school.

"Who did you kiss?" I ask. Elliot looks confused. "At boarding school. Who was it?"

Elliot stares at me for a long moment. "Nobody," he says at last. And I dare to hope.