What Would I Give

What would I give to be thirty again just married and sober, life beginning to stir inside me once more? That time of first love––what would I give to be breathless when I saw him? To  hang on his every word, love to touch him, that soft place below his navel. His tan showing off with the white shirt he wore to work.

What would I give to have him come home when he’s supposed to and not have that panicky feeling that he was out drinking and finding another woman to love? He sometimes calls me another name, Beverly–Gloria–I don’t know. How I would react to his leaving me.

I know none of those things will happen. We’ll have a baby named Jason, who will be a beautiful baby and handsome young man and will die at thirty-three, choking on his own fluids, drunk and alone. It does no good to supposed  what would I give for this to not happen? I’d give anything.