EIGHT

There was a mailman

I loved as a little girl.

He would stop at the communal mailbox

On the street

In the center of the apartment complex

And begin sorting mail away

Into 150 different little boxes

We lived in 1202

I would rush from my house

To greet the mailman

And he would talk to me as he worked

Filing away bills and cards and coupons

He would ask me questions

Quiz me

And give me a piece of Bazooka gum

For every question I got right

I would spin around and crush my sneakers

rocking up and down on my toes

I would curl one piecе of hair

Around my finger while I thought of the answеrs

I would slide my tongue between my teeth

and the windows where they were missing

And between every mailbox

The mailman would look at me and smile

He’d pat me on the cheek

And tell me

That I was as smart as he was.

As smart as any man.

And I believed him.

Because why wouldn’t I?

I was 8.

I knew that George Bush would win the election.

I knew the Pythagorean theorem.

I read 300 books from the public library

And I could draw every animal by memory.

I liked him ’cause he gave me chewing gum

And talked to me in his low voice

Calm and soft

Not the shrill, high-pitched voice

They would use on my baby brother.

One day the mailman didn’t show up for work

I ran out and stopped in my tracks

There was a different man there

I asked if my friend was sick

The imposter ignored me

The new mailman showed up a few days in a row

The kids in the neighborhood said

The old one had a heart attack in a bowl of spaghetti

And died with noodles up his nose

I cried

One Wednesday I ran out to the new mailman

And asked if he had any gum

He told me to stay away

Because he didn’t want to get in trouble like Charlie

I didn’t know my friend’s name was Charlie

And I didn’t know how I could have gotten him in trouble

So I asked my mom

How you could give someone a heart attack

And she rubbed her head

and stretched her feet across the couch and said,

“It feels like you’re gonna give me one right now.”

I didn’t want my mom to die too.

So I hid in my room

And I cried

Because I was 8

And a murderer.