Once a week, Mum lets me have
one friend over for dinner after school.
This week I’ve invited Callum.
While Mum is cooking, we play husband
and wife, in my bedroom.
I play the wife. In an imaginary kitchen
I cook and Callum pretends
to return from work, hugs me from behind,
and kisses me on the cheek.
I say, “Dinner’s ready!”
Serve his imaginary meal, tell him
what it is, so he knows how to enjoy it:
“It’s spaghetti,” I say. “You’ve got to use
the spoon and fork.”
Callum asks, “Why can’t we have pizza
like the Turtles?” Pointing to the poster
on my wall.
“Because we’re not playing Turtles now,” I say.
“How was your day at work, darling?”
I script and direct this role-play game,
I play it with Toby and Jamal, too.
Just not with Emily, Amber, or Laura.
All the girls in my class like me.
I’m the only boy invited to their sleepovers.
“Michael, are you free Friday night?”
“Michael, do you like Disney and ice cream?”
I share blankets on the floor with four,
five, six girls or more.
Emily is always invited because
she’s the most popular girl in our class.
