Pepsi and Regret

Pepsi and Regret

I hold on to my regrets as tightly as some hold on to anger or loss. I can remember things that I should have done differently as far back as 4, is that weird? A family member came over all decked for a hot date. Her pants were such a dazzling white that they reminded me of some sort of canvas; that needed to be drawn on (don’t judge 4 year old logic…do they have logic??). She was all breathless and giddy about her upcoming rendezvous, and terrified something would mar her perfect whiteness. When I say terrified, I mean she chanted over and over ” Don’t spill that Pepsi on my pants, don’t spill that Pepsi on my pants, you better not get that Pepsi on me.” And all I heard was, “Please, please dump that Pepsi on my pants and see what happens”. My arm had a mind of its own as it extended towards where her knees were next to mine on the front step of our house, I think that she was so stunned she did not believe I would really do it. But my arm was then led by the wrist that flipped that glass bottle over and soaked her. The dull wet brown soaking her once flawless blaze of white the bubble noise of the carbonation singing its song rather loudly in the silence. Her face was frozen in disbelief and then tears. And I still had not realized until that moment as those tears streamed silently down her pretty made up face how very wrong what I had done was. I think about this often.



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