Bedevilled

The young boy Conor was new to the neighbourhood. I waylaid him on the street, introduced myself with the intention of making him my sidekick, like Chewbacca to Han Solo—I was seriously into Star Wars back then. It was clear he didn’t want to climb the tree, but he was too polite and shy to refuse. ‘The next day, you asked me to play house, gave me a candy shaped like a diamond ring, said we were married.’ Conor chuckled. ‘After I went home, I threw away the candy. I didn’t want to marry you back then. Do you know why?’ ‘Not at all.’ I wasn’t playing house. I was re-enacting the wedding of Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala in Star Wars: Episode II—Attack of the Clones. Cara got dragged away by her parents on a holiday. I was feeling lonely, and boy Conor looked like a biddable child. ‘You looked like Po, you know, like in Kung Fu Panda? You were a chubby, chubby girl. I was secretly afraid you might crush me if we got married and had to sleep in the same bed.’ I huffed out a breath. ‘