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Walking on Glass

Page 3

by Alma Fullerton


  “Jack, let’s go.”

  I grab his shoulders

  and steer him out of the alley.

  He sees this girl

  and pushes me away.

  “Waaaiit.”

  He grabs the girl’s arm

  and pulls her close to him.

  He says he can bang her

  so hard,

  her eyeballs will roll

  to the back of her head.

  She tries to get away,

  but he grabs her again.

  I say,

  “Leave her alone, Jack.”

  He doesn’t.

  Red marks spread

  around his fingers as

  they dig into her bare arm.

  I yell,

  “Let her go, Jack!”

  He pulls her close

  and licks the tears

  off her face.

  I hit him.

  We’re no longer

  friends.

  RELIEF

  Today

  the doctors tell Dad

  there’s still no hope.

  Mom’s not getting better.

  They ask if he would

  consent

  to have the machines

  shut down

  and donate

  Mom’s organs.

  Dad gets mad.

  He refuses to believe

  she’s gone.

  But I’m feeling

  more relieved

  than mad.

  GOD, FORGIVE ME

  The thought of my own mother

  dying

  shouldn’t leave the taste of

  freedom

  in my mouth.

  IS SHE THERE?

  I sit with Mom

  and squeeze her hand

  gently.

  Hoping she’ll

  squeeze back

  like she used to when

  I was small and

  scared.

  But no matter how often

  I squeeze her hand,

  it stays limp.

  IN SCIENCE

  Alissa sets all of the butterflies

  free.

  Colors fill the air

  and float through

  the school yard.

  Mr. Crouch sends her

  to the office for pulling

  a stupid prank.

  I don’t think it was stupid.

  I think it was

  brave.

  JACK’S MOTHER

  I see Jack’s mother

  in the grocery store.

  She asks, “How’s your mom?”

  “Same,” I say.

  I grab some TV dinners.

  She picks through the frozen

  vegetables

  and says, “You should drop by for

  supper.

  We miss having you around.”

  I say, “I’m pretty busy.”

  “I understand.” She looks past me,

  far away.

  MOM’S ROOM

  Nurses flock

  to Mom’s room

  like she’s having a sale

  on white sneakers.

  In between their visits

  I’m alone with her

  and her machines.

  I reach for the machine

  to do what I need to do.

  My hands shake,

  and sweat drips

  down the back of my legs,

  stinging the open blisters

  on my heels.

  I jerk my hand away,

  without even touching

  the switch.

  I race out of there,

  gasping for air,

  and throw up on

  the shoes I still can’t

  fill.

  QUESTIONS

  “Do you ever feel like

  someone’s puppet?” I ask Dr. Mac.

  He raises his eyebrows.

  “Do you?”

  I roll my eyes. “I asked you first.”

  “I think at times

  we can all get our

  strings pulled.”

  AVOIDING ALISSA

  Alissa has the key

  to the cage,

  but I can’t let

  her open it

  yet.

  When the phone

  rings and I see

  Alissa’s number

  on the display,

  I don’t pick it up.

  BREAKING AWAY

  I trip over

  Mom’s shoes

  at the bottom of the stairs.

  I pick them up

  and whip them through

  the dining room window.

  It shatters

  over Mom’s

  precious rosebushes.

  The cage

  in my chest

  loosens.

  HIDDEN FROM VIEW

  A board covers

  the broken window

  and I can no longer

  see Mom’s torn

  roses.

  DAD

  Dad putters around the house

  avoiding me.

  I want to get right up

  in his face

  and scream for him

  to be the man he should be

  so I won’t have to,

  but I

  can’t.

  ALISSA ASKS

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  “I was busy.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I think we shouldn’t see each other

  for a while.”

  “Why?”

  I stare at my feet.

  Her eyes are my looking glass,

  able to flip the truth

  and make me want to believes

  everything is okay,

  but it’s not.

  CONVERSATIONS WITH DAD

  “I know you think

  I’m wrong,”

  Dad says.

  He looks at me

  over the piles of

  takeout containers

  on the coffee table.

  “I can’t let go yet.”

  I scarf down my

  chow-mein noodles

  to avoid looking

  directly at him.

  “It’s not my fault…,”

  he says.

  I glance up.

  His eyes water.

  I focus my attention

  on my noodles.

  “And I didn’t know she was that

  unhappy,” he says.

  I push my plate

  across the table.

  It tips.

  I get up

  and walk away,

  leaving my dad’s heart

  and the noodles

  spilled all over the floor.

  IN THE HALLWAY

  At school

  I see Alissa

  talking to her friends.

  I watch her

  push her hair away

  from her eyes.

  Those beautiful

  blue eyes, so full

  of life.

  Why can’t I look

  into them

  and let her make

  me feel

  good again?

  FORGIVENESS

  Jack beats

  on my front door.

  “Come on!

  I know you’re home.

  Let me in.

  I forgive

  you.”

  I don’t get up.

  He’s not the one

  who I need

  to forgive

  me.

  ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL

  Jack catches up to me.

  “What’s with you

  lately?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “Why you avoiding me then?”

  I don’t answer.

  He knows why.

  MIRRORS

  Today

  Dad smashes

  the mirror

 
in the front hall.

  I guess neither one

  of us can stand to

  look into it.

  I SHOULD HAVE

  As I left the house

  that June morning,

  Mom said,

  “I love you.”

  I just closed the door

  and left her

  alone.

  I should have told her

  I loved her.

  Maybe then

  she wouldn’t be

  in the hospital

  today.

  WAITING FOR DEATH

  I bring Mom

  roses.

  I watch her carefully,

  looking for any clue

  she knows I’m with her.

  She lies there

  lifeless.

  I try to swallow the lump

  building in my throat,

  but it just expands.

  The aroma from the roses

  filters through the air.

  They smell like she used to

  when I was small.

  Sweet and fresh.

  Their scent

  will fade

  now that they’re

  no longer attached

  to the roots

  which gave them life.

  I stare outside

  and wonder

  if I’ll ever have the courage

  to cut Mom off

  from her roots.

  THE PENALTY

  In class today

  we had a debate about

  whether kids who kill

  should be tried as adults.

  Some of the class say

  kids shouldn’t be tried as adults

  because we don’t always know

  right from wrong.

  I think they’re full of crap.

  We do know right from wrong.

  OPINION

  I don’t doubt for a second

  that most people think

  what I want to do

  is wrong.

  But I don’t want to

  murder

  my mother.

  I want to set her

  free.

  MURDER

  The unlawful killing of a human

  being

  with malice

  aforethought.

  I’m thinking about it.

  Does that make it

  murder?

  THINKING

  Dr. Mac asks,

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Do you think that if

  someone made your life

  miserable,

  unhooking that person’s

  life support

  would be the same as murder,

  even if you know

  they will never get better?”

  He leans forward

  and looks into my eyes.

  “It’s not what I think

  that’s important.

  It’s what you think.”

  I WISH I MAY

  Sometimes I wish

  I hadn’t held Mom up.

  Then it would have

  all been over

  that rainy June day.

  CLOSING DOORS

  Jack comes by.

  He says, “I need a place to stay.

  Mom kicked me out

  when I hit her.”

  But I just say,

  “No.”

  And close the door.

  FIRST SIGNS OF LIFE

  Dad says,

  “Jack isn’t

  coming by anymore.”

  I nod.

  He smiles and pats me on the back,

  and my cage bars

  weaken.

  MAYBE HE KNOWS

  Dad sits beside

  Mom’s bed.

  He strokes her hair

  and whispers to her.

  He closes his eyes.

  Clenching his jaw,

  he lets out a sigh.

  When he opens his eyes,

  a tear drips from each corner.

  He shakes his head

  and walks out of the room.

  I wait for him to come back.

  He doesn’t.

  DAD’S FEELINGS

  I wonder

  if Dad is torn up inside

  for the same reason

  I’m torn.

  FLASHBACKS

  Today

  there I am

  playing football

  and suddenly it starts

  to rain and I’m back

  in time holding

  my mother up

  by her legs.

  And I pray

  I can hold

  her long enough

  to tell her

  what she needs

  to hear.

  But before I

  can get the words out,

  I get tackled.

  DEPRESSION

  Today

  Dr. Mac explains how

  sick Mom was.

  How she needed medicine

  to make her feel better,

  but she refused to take it.

  He explains how,

  if she did,

  she’d still be here.

  Today Dr. Mac

  explains how

  sick Mom was

  and how nothing she did

  was my

  fault.

  GANGS

  I can’t concentrate

  on homework.

  I watch the news

  and hear about

  a drive-by downtown.

  A woman was killed

  by a stray bullet.

  They caught the shooter.

  He’s seventeen and

  will be tried as

  an adult.

  COULD HAVE BEEN

  My heart races,

  thinking it could have been

  me who killed that woman.

  And I thank God

  it wasn’t.

  It was Jack.

  SURELY IT’S DIFFERENT

  Mom doesn’t have

  a future.

  Mom doesn’t have

  a life.

  Mom has been dead

  for six months.

  You can’t call

  it murder.

  MOM’S ROSES

  This morning

  Mom’s garden

  froze over.

  No one will cover

  the fading roses.

  Petals dropping

  onto the frosty ground

  like tears of

  death.

  MY DREAM

  I dream about Jack

  beating up that kid.

  Blood dripping down his face

  all over his shoes.

  I watch confused,

  knowing that didn’t happen.

  There wasn’t blood

  on those shoes.

  Then it’s my mother’s face

  and the blood drips

  down onto my shoes.

  I wake up screaming.

  Because

  I know

  that happened.

  WHAT HAPPENED

  That day,

  I came home and found

  a new pair of shoes

  by the door.

  When I went into the dining room

  to tell Mom they were

  too big,

  Mom stepped off of the table.

  A noose slung around her neck.

  I caught her

  and held her up.

  Mom struggled.

  She kicked me away.

  But I wouldn’t

  let go.

  I wanted to tell her

  I loved her.

  I wanted to tell her

  I needed her.

  I wanted to tell her

  to stay with us.

  But the wires holding

  the chandelier snapped,

  and it crashed on top of her head,

  and my a
rm broke

  and I dropped her.

  Her blood splattered

  all over my new shoes.

  REMEMBERING MOM

  I remember

  her soft voice

  floating through the air

  like the smell of fresh roses,

  as she sings me a lullaby

  to take away

  the monsters in the night.

 

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