But when I glance up again, Hudson is still looking at me as he takes a sip from his frosty pint glass. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me after all these years.
When we met as kids, I was average in every way. I made good grades, but nothing that could ever qualify as “gifted,” like my big sister Beth. She was the smart, studious one. She excelled in choir, too; we'd all pack into Mom's SUV and drive to see her in regional competitions. And Hayden was the athlete. I spent years of my life sitting in the bleachers with my parents, watching him run up and down the court with a ball. Sports were even less of my thing than academics. A friend talked me into joining track in eighth grade. I was excited at first. It was all so fun and different at practice: learning to conquer the hurdles, pumping my arms and legs as fast as I could for the fifty-meter sprints. But the time came when the coach assigned everyone to an event. I got the two-mile, the longest run in track and field. I hated it. And I was horrible at it. Huffing and puffing with a bright red face, struggling in dead last to the finish line where my inhaler was waiting for me. No thank you—that ended my illustrious track career.
I never quite found my place as I grew up either. I felt invisible inside my own family. But my saving grace was Hudson. He was always at our house, hanging out with my brother; he'd sneak into the back yard, where I often went to think, or duck into the kitchen to find me alone. He'd ask me about school and my friends and boys. He'd compliment me, and he never made me feel stupid. I felt safe around him. Someone I looked up to and admired was taking an interest in my life. It made me feel like I was worthwhile, and I grew to cherish our stolen moments together.
Once in a while, on an unpredictable schedule, Hudson would leave me a children’s book under my pillow. Sometimes they appeared every couple of weeks; other times, months passed in between. But he never forgot. I loved to read, and I especially liked picture books. Long after I finally outgrew them, I still treasured each one he picked for me. They were never about princesses. They were all different, but they always had a message. Accepting your differences. Overcoming adversity. I think Hudson was the only one who noticed how I struggled to fit into my own family.
Then I got boobs and everything changed. They just kept getting bigger and bigger, until by eleventh grade, I was a full C-cup. On my small frame, they looked like I was smuggling grapefruits—big and bouncy and hard to hide. Hudson’s eyes would zero in on my chest and he’d frown, looking frustrated. I would catch him watching me as I jumped on the trampoline in my parents’ backyard. The kiddie books stopped then, along with his attention. He started spending less time with me and more time screwing anything that moved. He and my brother were disgusting. Through the bedroom wall we shared, I would overhear them talking about their latest conquests. They tag-teamed girls and compared notes. It was crushing to hear. Because I knew, despite all his attention, he'd never viewed me that way.
It felt like I lost the one person who really cared. And though I tried to move on, I still found myself getting jealous of the girls he fucked one after the other. Even on the days when I hated him, I wished that he would see me as a woman, not some annoying little kid. I couldn’t help my teenage fantasies: Hudson pressing me into my bed, a cocky smile on those full lips as he drove into me with deep, powerful thrusts.
“Now that you’ve landed your dream job, what’s next?” my brother asks, pulling me back into the present. He's grinning at me and I can practically feel the pride radiating from him. It makes me sit up a little taller in my seat.
It took me a few months to find my perfect job after I graduated from college last spring. Now I finally feel like I'm on the right path—and it's inspired some changes in my personal life, too.
“Funny you should ask.” I place my elbows on the table, leaning forward like I’m about to let them in on a big secret. And maybe I am. “I’ve signed up on one of those online dating sites. I figure it’s time to take life by the balls.” I hiccup. “Excuse me. And now that I’m on the career path I’ve always dreamed of, my next step is to land a great guy, too.” I've never really dated before, and I'm more than ready to get out there and start meeting people. More importantly, it's high time I lose my virginity. I've begun to feel like it’s hanging over my head, following me around like a black cloud.