I told my mother a secret, in confidence.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I said.
“I won’t.”

“He really likes Valerie Bertinelli,” she said.
“Mom!” I was shocked. She had sworn.
My Aunt Betty didn’t know who Valerie was,
but that didn’t matter. My secret was revealed.
She knew.

Even now, I can’t explain why the secrets of the heart
need to be held so close to the chest,
why the object can’t know that you’re interested
until the time is right.
It seems stupid, with a moment’s reflection,
but it remains true – for me, anyway.
To this day.

Aunt Betty is long dead
and I’m over Valerie Bertinelli.
I’m proud of where the years have taken her,
but I don’t agree with all the choices she made
on Hot in Cleveland, so we’re done.

Still, I cannot forgive my mother for that betrayal.
She swore,
and she broke that faith.