I don’t get to London often enough.
My first time it was with him,
the man I had moved in with from the night of our first date.
The night turned early by the time I went home with him.
I said I would not sleep with him,
I slept with him,
I married him,
I hated him,
I built a life with him,
I’ve never stopped loving him.
Fish and chips on Notting Hill,
in dark pubs smelling old,
of beer stained leather.
We discovered Lush and Sex Bombs at Covent Garden.
We made love on a bed of red rose petals
at the Paddington Hilton.
From the London Eye we mapped the city we explored.
When we left the Tate Modern,
he found his wallet missing.
An hour later the cabbie who had dropped us off,
came back from north London,
to return my boyfriend’s wallet,
not wanting anything in return.
By the next time I got back to London
our first baby was fifteen.
It’s the minimum age for the Landmark Forum.
In the mornings we bicycled to the forum.
I’d leave her there,
wandering the streets,
thinking of her,
the work,
terrified she would not get it.
In Chinatown I filled up on noodles, phở, and dumplings steaming.
I kept sending him photos,
even though we share the same cloud
and my pictures appear on his phone instantly.
While shopping for underwear,
a woman who looked like Mary Poppins aged with grace,
pulled me into a fitting room.
She tut-tutted and scolded me with mother’s eyes,
studying my bare frame and chest.
“Your bra is too small,” she said.
“You’re spilling out. Your posture is poor.”
By the time I left the department store I was standing tall and full.
I had felt a mother’s hands
holding my torso,
my chest,
my shoulders.
Bringing me bras and comfort.
By the time I got back to London, one year later,
our second baby was 14.
Forged by ballet, taekwondo, and showjumping,
she now stands tall and straight beside me after we fought during her birth.
She did not want to leave my womb.
I showed her the London I got to love.
We binged on noodles and steaming dumplings in Chinatown.
She tried gourmet insects and caviar at Covent Garden.
At Wembley, she was scouted.
By the time we got back home to Porto,
I had watched my baby sing, scream, jump and dance with Blackpink.
I knew every verse and every chorus.
Were it not for the young woman beside me,
I might never have seen Lisa, Rosé, Jisoo and Jennie live.
She returned with a Paddington bear that now sits on the piano in her room,
the name her father has called her since she was small;
a name she allows no one else to use.
