(BRENDAN)

At Breakfast

I tell Mom

I quit wrestling.

            “I never could go see you

            after that first match.

            It just looked so awful.”

            She shakes her head, like the

            memory will fall out.

            “I was afraid I’d scream terrible

            things at your opponents.”

I’m a little surprised

she’s so relieved—

Is that really the reason

she was the only parent

who never came to meets?

Detached,

I mull it over.

Dismiss,

it doesn’t matter.

Claude the Interloper

pats her arm

like she’s an invalid,

then invites me to get donuts

now that I’m not training.

Just great.

I know he’s secretly thinking

I’m a weakling for quitting

days before finals.