by Shae Moloney Europeana I haven’t eaten rice pudding in years because the last time I did was the first time you said I was a disappointment. You didn’t come around much after that, but the four letters you sent in the following decade carried sentiments that cut me as deep as it did that day in person. “You tell your mama not to come calling, a’right?” I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a command, so I said nothing. You avoided eye contact as you always did. I can’t r