If losing is dancing with someone or even kissing someone who cares for you like I undoubtedly care for him, then call me a loser.

I'll make waffles. My face lights up. Yes, she continues and bacon.
I look at Max and nod towards Charlie
That's my girl!
Damn straight, he says.

Ready or not! Before I can stop him, Max races toward the bed and dives on top of us. Oh! Oh it feels even better than I imagined. He rolls back and forth across us as Charlie laughs and I wonder why I am friends with such a raging idiot.

I love vocab. It's like spelunking in a cave you've been in your whole life and discovering a thousand new tunnels.

As I load my shirt into the washer for the night, I daydream about making a sign and hanging it around my neck. It could read, I MISS CHARLIE KHAN.
As I drive home, I picture other signs- one for everyone who has a secret. Bill Coro's would say, I CAN'T READ, BUT I CAN THROW A FOOTBALL. Me. Shunk's would read, I WISH I COULD TOSS YOU ALL ON AN ISLAND BY YOURSELVES. Dad's would read, I HATE MYSELF FOR NO GOOD REASON.

I see it as symbolic. The label no longer fits. His emotional parsimoniousness just got sucked away by the beautiful blue sky. I lean forward and reach my hand behind my back, then take my sign off, and I toss it out the window, too. I am no longer an ex-stripper's daughter, either. I have gone from invisible Vera Dietz to invincible Vera Dietz.