Every Body Looking
Page 8
accounting class keeps
feeling like gym
cause every time I reach
for the textbook
I suddenly want
to sleep
as in
whenever Derek
needs something
to do
he calls me
but never
can be reached
when I need someone
too
as in
when I saw that girl
dancing by herself
in the studio that day
I wanted to know
if being confident
enough to do that
is something
I could ever
reach
A chance is all I’ve ever wanted
it was all I needed
to prove that I wasn’t as lame
as everyone thought I was
college was
like everything else for me
a bunch of firsts
a first time
away from home
a first time
in a new bed
a first time
in new hands
a first time
to make a choice
on a new campus
where every day is a fashion show
and everyone
is also the smart black kid
in the class
trying to keep up
never works
so I just
tried to keep myself
The days I tried
to look like I knew
how to be here I failed
college at an HBCU was still more groups
and more cliques than high school
either more ways to fit in
or be left standing out
student government
sororities
marching band
athletes and
apparently girls
with head-wrapped afros
who dance by themselves
wearing oversized t-shirts
in empty studios
had a place around here too
I didn’t know what boys wanted
but I liked to wear t-shirts
and cargo shorts to class
the occasional joke
about being
on the other team was silly
anyway
I didn’t know there were other teams
wondering how one gets on the other team
without knowing how to play
what’s wrong with a girl
wanting to be comfortable
what’s wrong with keeping
what I had to myself
aren’t us girls
all on the same team?
but it seemed like everyone
knew how to play this game
everyone but me
I already knew I was nothing like
the other girls
walking around like
they could fit their
mama’s clothes
my hips didn’t sway like that
my breasts were nearly nonexistent
is this what the boys want?
their mamas?
FIRST GRADE
Daddy never lied about Mommy
where is she?
why doesn’t she live here?
who is that man?
who is the man that came
to pick me up?
why is that his name?
does Mommy like him better than you?
better than me?
does Mommy love that man?
is that man a stranger?
if he is a stranger, should I go with him?
why does Mommy yell?
why does she yell like that?
does Mommy love me?
then why can’t I be with her?
where
is
she?
She doesn’t live far from us
you can call her
if you want
I will dial her phone number
for you
better yet
use
your new journal
remember
the therapist said
you can draw pictures
when you feel sad
pictures
when you miss her
pictures
for what you feel
inside
pictures
when you don’t have
the words
pictures
when she doesn’t answer
Things I could do at Mommy’s house
Put as much sugar in my bowl of Cheerios as I wanted.
Fall asleep in front of the tv. I didn’t have a bed there anyway.
Sleep on the couch. I didn’t have a room there anyway.
Shave my legs like the big girls. One day.
Watch rated R movies. Especially the ones Daddy had already said no to.
Because I’m her goddamn daughter too.
The truth was that sometimes
she would not answer
when I said it too much
four very bad words
I love you, Mommy
said, I told her this
too much
asked what I needed
to say those words so much for
told me, okay
that’s enough
Three days visiting became enough
and
when we rose
on the third day
the first thing
she would ask is
when I would like
to go back
to Daddy’s house
because this was home too
today
tomorrow
or the next day
in my heart
I would want to say
today
but knew
the day after tomorrow
was better to say
to Mommy
saying today
was a bad idea
was a joke
was an insult
was what ungrateful little girls say
to their mommies
who they should miss
would hurt her feelings
too much
and everything was bad
when Mommy hurt
Mommy could not put her hands where she hurt
she hurt where I could not see
waking in the night’s middle
on my weekend visits
would mean waking
to her deep sobs
about something I never would know
when I never knew mothers could
cry like their children
her sadness
hung stale
like the aroma of bacon smoke
and chicken grease
long after the house had been fed
and Mommy was too tired and scarred
to feed
herself
Going back to Daddy’s house
was always a long drive
in silence
filled with shame and grief
for not wanting to stay with my mother
who left an aftertaste
bitter of another person leaving
abandoning her after she
&n
bsp; had done nothing
but open
her arms
COLLEGE
It’s a month into my first semester
and I’ve been here
long enough to know
it’s time to execute
my plan somehow
on tuesdays and thursdays
they make us
wear suits to class
like robots
an outdated conformist ritual
of pretend professionalism
forced on us black kids
if we want success
thirsty for As
hungry for nods
from our professors
like a good call home
I’m not homesick
or some other word
for sad being miles from
my family like everyone else
seems to be
but something’s definitely
got me ready
to get out
Class gets out early today
I rush for the door
to avoid Derek
we’ve got classes together
and having to see him
later at practice
is more than
enough
having learned
that nothing
is more awkward
than seeing a boy
you don’t really like
and who’s kinda
seen you naked
in the daylight
except running into a girl
you once ran from
but want to know
Where you runnin to
this time
Happy Feet?
she’s already given me
a corny nickname
but I’m the one who’s embarrassed
and even though it’s been a month
recognize her immediately
as I stop
feeling caught
she’s shorter than I remember
my eyes already searching her
before I can pretend
I’m not
suddenly realizing
she’s asked me a question
still hoping Derek
is somewhere walking
the other way
I’d be ready to turn the other way again
but she’s smiling
still staring into my face
her whole stance a question
waiting for me to stop being dumb
and answer
I tell her
my dorm
try to be smooth
and ask
and you?
well I’m not running
anywhere like you
just coming from the studio
you remember the one
right?
Before I can squeeze out a full apology
for spying on her
she stops me with her laughter
tells me to chill
that it’s okay
tells me it’s been
a long time
since she’s had
an audience
but how
I ask
don’t they make you
dance in front of everyone
all the time
in class?
she laughs at me
again
tells me
she doesn’t even
go to school here
Name: Kendra
AGE: 19
FROM: DC, born & raised
JOB: studio assistant, over at the one in NE
DREAM: To dance
HOW: Whenever, wherever I can learn
for free
cause I don’t need
to pay nobody all that money
to do what’s already
in my heart
I guess it’s my heart
that’s racing now
walking through campus
almost forgetting that
I was trying not to be seen
just minutes before
and here is this stranger
who sneaks onto campus
maybe the first who is
seeing me talking to me
who maybe wants to be my friend
SECOND GRADE
Back in the second grade I knew better
than to be touching Sarah
right there in the classroom
under the desk
while the teacher
had her back to us
it was sort of a game
we played
who could tickle
the other until she
laughed but
neither of us
laughed we just
touched and asked
for the hall pass
just minutes
after the other
to continue the
the secret game
we had no name for
To give this game a name
would be to say
that we were playing at all
but we were not
this was not
happening
it did not
feel good
we didn’t
meet in the second stall
in silence
with the clasps
of our ashtray jeans
undone
and far below our knees
we were not
in there together
my fingers didn’t
slide from just below
her navel
nor glide beneath her underwear
we weren’t
gone
for that long
with the hall pass
On our way back we would pass
two water fountains
we needed stools to reach
four closed classroom doors
with barking teachers on the other side
sometimes
one bad child who was sent
to take a break for talking too much
Sarah’s open hand
would become hers and mine
two moist bunches
of stubby fingers
holding each other
briefly
her cheeks flush
of blotchy maroon and smile
mine of damp brown and giggle
all of this disappeared
when time
delivered us back
to class
The class would sometimes
be
lined
up
at
the
door
when
we
made
it
back
we
had
to
pass
by
every
questioning
eye
who
wanted
to
know
where
we
had
been
when
we
had
asked
to
go
at
different
times
and
now
the
&nbs
p; class
would be punished together when we arrived to gym late
In the late months of spring
parent teacher conferences
would come back around
Daddy would show up
to the place of my secret adventures
I would hold my breath
and the teacher would talk
Daddy would look down at me
they would laugh about
how my mouth was always running
smile about my grades
and Daddy’s accent
later Daddy would ask questions
then would believe my answers
I would just be happy
that I
survived
Survival in my neighborhood
didn’t seem as tough
as they said it would be
for black kids living in chicago
but this was the north side
two blocks from school was where
Daddy and I slid across hardwood floors
on saturday mornings and I would beg
for coffee while we cleaned the apartment
top to bottom and the answer was always
yes
Our apartment
was a block each way
from a corner store
some saturday afternoons
I would walk
two houses down
and Stacie and Kate
would find us something
to do
candy
we could go get candy
without money
without parents
there are ways
to get it on our own
Stacie would say
we do this all the time
Stacie would say
but how
my mouth had always been
the problem
if I would have just
slid the packs
into my pocket
without whispering
down the aisle
the lady at the front
would have never known
Daddy had never known
that I was taking things
I was being taught how
to take things we had the money for
on saturday
mornings I got to pick out