Forty-One
I watched Tina as she slept on the couch. She was still breathing; I could see her chest rising and falling gracefully every few moments. I was relieved, feeling better that she was here on my sofa and not somewhere on the street where a vast number of horrible things could be done to her.
As I let her sleep, I looked over her arms and legs. She looked beaten and burned, yellow and brown indents created a sickly pattern of spots across her knee. Her right fist was bruised, as if she had attempted to fight back her attacker, but judging by her condition, I could tell it hadn't ended in her favor.
"How's your mom been?"
The fall leaves rustled over the football field; I had been toying with an orange leaf in my hands while Tina was braiding her hair. The cool breeze wandered over my sleeves, sending a chill through my pale denim jacket.
"Better." Tina replied, taking a hair tie and securing the ends of her locks.
"Gordon's still sleeping on the pullout though."
Gordon, her mother's boyfriend at the time, had a knack for getting just as drunk as Tina's mother; the two of them creating the complete embodiment of what it meant to be a party girl and boy, and never grow up.
"Drunk?"
"Usually."
"Is she still in the program though?"
"She's trying."
"Ah."
Tina pulled a pale white flower out of the field and laced it into the bottom of her braid; the flower's yellow center only barely darker than her hair. She looked over to me.
"I think she'll get better... It's just going to take some time. We all get better with age right?"
I nodded.
"Like a fine wine."
"Like a fine wine."
Tina stirred from her position on the couch, turning towards me and cautiously opening her eyes.
"Hey."
"You feeling any better?"
"A bit."
"Better than nothing."
Tina slowly made her way up from laying down to sitting up, leaning back against one of the pillows. She smoothed her hair up and over her shoulder, and then began to put it in a braid.
"I think I'm ready to talk."
"Really?"
"Yeah... Yeah I think so."
"Do you want a cup of tea? Water?"
She smiled; it was soft and barely present, but it was there.
It had taken a long time to get back here, seated on my sofa and ready to break down the barrier having separated us for all of these months. Maturity, like all things good, takes time.
Like a fine wine.
