do such a thing, little liar.
Like an eight-year-old
child could make up
something so evil and
perverse. She wouldn’t
even believe it when
I pulled down my jeans.
The proof was right there
on my underwear, streaked
pink with blood.
You sat on something,
that’s all. Or maybe you
did it to yourself. Pig!
Enough Pond Memories
The clock hiccups “two
forty-five,” almost
time for the meet ’n’
greet with Tony Sr.
Fuck me, what will
I say? “Hey, Pa, thanks
for making time in your
busy schedule to drop by once
in the last eight years.”
Part of me wants to turn my
back and walk away, like
he did, so many years ago.
And what do I remember
of that day, a major turning
point in my minor life?
Shouts. Accusations. Denials.
Nothing new, except
that day, he walked out the door
and never came home,
except to pack his things,
escorted by a policeman
to keep him safe from Ma.
He called a few times,
asked about school, friends.
He sent a birthday present
once—a baseball glove
and a hardball or two.
Like I ever had anyone
to play catch with.
Like I’d ever make a team.
But once Dad decided enough
was enough, I wasn’t enough
to make him face the ugly
truth of Ma. And Tony Jr.
would always remind
him of her. Severed ties.
Severed me.
Vanessa
Saturday, Visiting Day
Grandma’s here, somewhere,
and I’m on my way
to see her. Half of me
feels like I’m walking
a high wire. The other
half feels like I’m fighting
my way through quicksand.
I’ve missed her so much,
but I don’t want to disappoint
her. I mean, I’m not exactly
sane and sober. Definitely
not ready to go back home,
back to school, back to me.
Right now my brain
feels like a soggy sponge.
At the end of the hall,
Dr. Starr shadows
a doorway. In here,
Vanessa. Your grandmother’s
waiting to see you.
Without meaning to,
I slow my pace,
try to picture Grandma’s
face. Will it look exactly
the way it used to—smooth
and pink, despite all
the care it’s wrapped around?
Or will she wear
a brand-new set of worry
lines and creases,
and will she look even
older than she is,
because of me?
She’s Waiting Just Inside
The door. Definitely a new
wrinkle or two, but she’s
beautiful anyway.
She hugs me into her.
How have you been? We’ve
missed you. Bryan, especially.
I gulp down guilt.
“I’ve missed you, too.
And Bryan. How is he?
What’s he been up to?”
She shrugs. School. A science
fair project. Mostly, he’s got
his nose in his books.
Dr. Starr allows
several minutes of small
talk, finally reels us in, asks us
to sit opposite each other
across a narrow table.
Vanessa has done very
well, at least on the surface.
But sooner or later we’ll have
to scratch that surface, crack her
shell, and look inside.
Grandma’s smile falls
away. Will you want
me here for that?
Dr. Starr nods. Eventually.
For some of it, anyway.
Anxiety deepens Grandma’s
creases. Somehow,
she feels responsible.
“Don’t worry, Grandma.
You’re not to blame.
‘Crazy’ runs on the other
side of the family.”
Grandma’s Face Drains
You’re not crazy,
Vanessa. You’ve had
some rough years,
is all. We’ll get you
through this and
everything will be just fine.
I want to ask her
if bleach got the
tub white, if Bryan
still has nightmares,
bubbling red with blood.
I want to ask if she
has visited Mama,
where no one wants
to go. Instead I say,
“You’re right, Grandma.
We’ll come through
fine.” Then I ask,
“Have you heard
from Daddy?”
Just got a letter
from Afghanistan.
He couldn’t tell me
much, of course.
Rangers keep tight
lips. He’s safe but
won’t be home any
time soon. He sends
you and Bryan his love.
He always loved
us better from a distance,
especially Mama,
something she found
hard to swallow. So
she found something
easier to swallow.
Which reminds me.
“Does Daddy know
about Mama?”
Conner
Trading Secrets
Sounds intriguing, and I
see Dr. Boston again today.
Saturday—no rest for the
wicked, which must include me.
I’ve been thinking about
her deal. Can the good doctor
have a secret worth knowing—
a true glimpse of the real Dr. B?
I do want to gain her trust.
But first I have to think
about my own secrets,
pretty damn bad to worst.
There is the major one,
really major, in fact, about
Emily, and exactly what kind
of person she happens to be.
There are a couple about
Cara, my evil twin, things
I have done to keep her
out from under my skin.
There is the awful one,
the surrogate mother of all
secrets, you might say. No, I’ll
tell any other secret but that.
It’s psychological
tug-of-war. Finally I
decide the best way out
is to tell her more about
my mad adoration for
a woman twice my age.
I can only hope the
price tag isn’t too steep.
My Escort Arrives
Someone short and sour
smelling, someone new—
the weekend shift, no doubt.
No telling who’ll open my
door without knocking next.
Ready? Dr. Boston is
waiting. She doesn’t offer
a name, just a steady stare.
I haven’t a clue what’s
behind that ice-cube gaze.
“Hi, I’m Conner. Would you
mind telling me your name
?”
Can’t you read? It’s right
here on my name badge:
Kate! She’s practically
yelling. Anger? Fear? Of me?
Whatever. I’ve got my own
fear to deal with. The hallway
buzzes today—kids, adults.
As I veer toward Dr. B’s
office, I hear shards of
conversation inside a
conference room. The door
is open, an invitation
to listen. Does Daddy know
about Mama? Such sorrow
in the voice, I hesitate,
wanting to find out the answer.
Kate shoves me past before
the reply. Seconds later
a girl sweeps into the hall.
Behind me, I hear her cry
and I turn, wanting to see
her face. It’s a gift, despite
the sadness etched there.
What brought her to this place?
No Time to Pigure Her Out Now
Dr. B is waiting for me,
a knockout in knockoff
designer suede. The cut
of the suit leaves little doubt
about her luscious figure.
I’ve got to stop thinking
that way, or I won’t have
a shot at controlling
this situation. Maybe I
won’t anyway. Hell’s bells,
maybe despite my plans
I don’t really want control.
A light must have gone on
in my eyes, because Dr. B
suddenly gives me a
wry smile. What is it, Conner?
I shake my head. “Nothing.
Just thinking about control
and how my need for
it seems to be shrinking.”
Her smile grows wider.
Oh, I doubt that, Conner.
Now, what did you decide
about confiding secrets?
My eyes lower to the
V of her blouse. “You have
to go first, but I guess I’m
ready to play your game.”
Okay. When I was younger
than you, but old enough
to know right from wrong,
I had sex with a teacher too.
She knew?
Tony
Hands Sweating
I walk, heel-touch-toe,
toward Room C-6
where I’m told I’ll find
Tony Sr. I stroll slowly,
making him wait, like he
made me wait all this time.
As I round the corner
Vanessa comes hustling
along the sticky floor,
eyes glistening. I wonder
what stroke of luck has
put us both in this space.
“Hey, Vanessa, you
okay?” She doesn’t
look okay, but we won’t
have much time for small
talk before someone
notices we’re here. Alone.
Vanessa sniffles, Not really,
but thanks for asking.
Why do they make you
see your family when
all you want to do is
curl up in a little ball?
“They call it therapy,
sweetie. Don’t you
feel cured?” I laugh and
she tries too. “I’m
off to see my own warped
next of kin. Feel better.”
I start to skip and, a half
smile in her voice, Vanessa
calls, I already do. And
Tony? I’ll keep my fingers
crossed that things go better
for you than they did for me.
Crossed Fingers
Are not enough. Dread
sledgehammers my gut
as I approach the door.
Inside, I hear voices:
Dr. Bellows’s grunt and
a stranger’s whine.
The coward in me wants
to turn around, but screw
him. The kid inside
wants to see his dad
again, and the avenger
wants to grill him alive.
I step through the door,
and the man who turns
to face me looks nothing
at all like I remember.
His hair is silver—how
old is he, anyway?—
and his weepy eyes are
shrunk back into skin
like alligator hide. Will
I look like this person
one day? He can’t really
be my father, can he?
He stands and holds
out a hand to me.
Hello, Anthony. Long
time no see. You sure
have changed! How
have you been?
All the stuff I wanted
to say slips from my
brain like oil-slicked
turds. I stutter, “H-hello,
Pa. I’m okay, I guess.”
I even shake his hand.
I Draw the Line
At hugging him, though.
Shit, I haven’t hugged
anyone since Phillip.
The last time was in
the hospital, when I
hugged him good-bye.
Pa tries, and I duck,
slumping into a chair.
He does likewise, eyes
never leaving my face.
Then we sit, silent as
death, until Dr. Bellows says,
I gather it’s been quite
a while since the two
of you have seen each
other. How do you feel
about that, Tony? He
squirms in his own chair.
The question stings
like alcohol. “You’re the
psychologist. How do you
think it makes me feel?
Deserted. Unworthy.
Fuck it. I’m pissed.”
Finally, Pa looks away.
I’m sorry, Anthony. I
know I should have been
there for you. It was
a difficult situation,
all the way around.
Difficult? For him? My
hands shake and my
face erupts fire. I struggle
to find words worthy
of the emotions churning
inside, in desperate need
of release.
Vanessa
Seeing Grandma
Made me want to go home,
made me want to stay here,
made me miss her and Bryan
and Daddy. Made me scared
to think about Mama again,
and how I left her that day.
Blue. I should be tumbling
low and blue, but instead
I’m swinging the other way.
I’d rather be going blue,
where no eyes can find me.
I think about the eyes I saw today—
Grandma’s, hopeful, then nothing
but sad and confused.
Dr. Starr’s, ringed
by sleeplessness.
Tony’s, a strange jumble
of anticipation and fear.
That other boy’s, curious
and intent on me.
Who is he, anyway?
I haven’t seen him in group,
not in the cafeteria, not
in the classroom.
He must be new,
new and gorgeous,
the kind of guy every girl
dreams will want her,
but it never quite works
out that way.
So why did he look
like he might
want to get to know me?
There is another pair
of eyes too, eyes
that never saw the light.
Little eyes, that haunt
me deep in the night.
Mania Blossoming
My brain won’t quit churning.
I keep seeing pictures, like movies.
Faces. Eyes. Hands. Bodies.
My body, next to Trevor’s.
That’s what I’m seeing.
He wasn’t my first,
wasn’t my only, but he
made me feel how
none of the rest could.
How I wish he was here
now, to put out this fire,
this low bank of coals,
smoldering between
my legs. But Trevor
isn’t next to me,
never will be again.
I can’t deal with your
freaky mood swings,
Vanessa. One minute
you’re solid, the next
you’re like water.
Boiling water. I love
you. But not enough
to stay with you.
His words were fists,
pounding my belly,
snatching the air from
my lungs. I couldn’t talk,
couldn’t breathe, so how
could I answer?
He turned his back,
walked away, and I wanted
to die right there.
Instead I went home,
where my hungry
new razor blade
lay in wait.
I Hurried Home That Day
Salivating for steel,
the cold caress of metal, skin
at the mercy of my own hands.
I could still taste Trevor.
He kissed me before he dumped
me, and my mouth held ghosts
of tobacco and Budweiser.
I expected the house to be empty—
Grandma at work and Bryan just
about ready to climb onto
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