by Pat Brisson
to be dropped off now at the train station parking lot.
I expect you to walk me to the platform
and wave good-bye with tears in your eyes
as the train pulls away from the station.
When I go away, Molly,
I never come back.
Molly . . .
Molly!
Are you listening to me?
Realization at the End of the School Day
Oh my God,
oh my God,
oh my God,
oh my God,
this
is
IT.
On the Way
Like a tickling in the back of my brain
that I can’t quite reach to scratch,
a little almost-but-not-quite-a-
thought
is itching for attention.
But Grady’s waiting by the wall
in front of school,
and off we go,
almost rushing to
a place I haven’t quite
figured out yet.
I slide my hand into his back pocket,
and we bump hips as I try
to match his step.
This is going to be so
great,
so incredibly fantastic,
so oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening-
to-me
wonderful.
Let’s do it.
And in the Next Few Minutes
My feet take me down familiar streets.
I’m not thinking,
just going,
as if my mind’s afraid to
wrap itself too tightly around
this idea, for fear the whole plan falls apart.
Grady, so warm beside me,
hums some song
I can’t quite recognize.
This is real,
I tell myself.
I avoid stepping on the cracks
and force myself to breathe.
We end up at the cemetery.
I Want It to Be Perfect
“So . . .” I say,
while Grady smiles
and pulls me to him.
“So . . .” he whispers back
between kisses long and hard.
I just want to dissolve
into those kisses.
I wish that I could melt there
in his arms.
If wishing it could make it happen,
this moment would be magic—
no,
more than that:
sublime.
But
our teeth knock against each other,
his hands are cold and clammy,
my skin is full of goose bumps;
where’s the sun?
I’m suddenly embarrassed.
I hope no one can see us.
I’m hesitant
and wonder if I smell.
Zippers stick;
buttons just won’t open.
This mess
is nowhere near
what I had planned.
I Want It to Be Over
I’m not a tease.
I wanted it when we got here,
and though I’ve changed my mind,
I won’t back out.
The ground is cold.
We lie upon a smooth, flat stone
long enough to be a bed.
“Wait!” I say,
“I have a condom in my bag.”
I start to move.
“Don’t bother,” he says,
and holds me still.
I think this means
he brought a condom, too,
and plans to use it
whenever it’s supposed to be put on.
What I know about condoms is
purely theoretical.
The only one I’ve ever really seen was on
a banana in health class.
Relieved,
I fake what I don’t feel:
kissing, moaning, hugging hard.
He straddles me at last.
I gasp at unexpected burning pain—
and when he’s this close to coming,
I feel my ribs will crack.
I know at least I’ll bruise.
I think,
So this is what it’s like to be
between a rock and a hard place,
and then
I start to giggle.
He’s too intent to notice,
too into it
to care.
I feel so disconnected,
like I’m watching from afar.
And then
I struggle to remember—
when did he put it on?
The giggles leave
as quickly as they’ve come.
PART THREE
in which Success is redefined as Disaster
Waking Up
Grady wakes up
when I roll him off me,
wipes a trickle of drool from
the corner of his mouth,
and blinks in my direction.
“Oh, hi!” he says,
as though surprised to see me.
I know just how he feels.
I’m surprised to see me, too,
here,
half dressed,
beside him,
and, oh my God!
his stuff all sticky
between my legs.
A sudden October wind whips
my hair into my eyes.
They start to water,
and I am cold all over.
Afterward
The Questions I Ask Myself
The Easy Answers and
The Ones I Force Myself to Give
So, how was it?
Great, of course! He’s only, like, one of the hottest guys
in the whole school.
So, how was it?
Well . . . not totally what I’d expected, you know?
Would you do it again?
In a minute!
Would you do it again?
A part of me thinks maybe we moved too fast.
What was he like afterward?
Totally adorable—he fell asleep right on top of me!
What was he like afterward?
I thought he’d died. No, really! He fell asleep—I had to
roll him off me so I could breathe.
And what does this make you now?
I’d say—one of the hottest couples in school.
And what does this make you now?
Oh my God! Not pregnant, I hope . . .
Third Person Singular
She walks with him
through the streets,
not
hoping someone will see them
and tell someone
who would tell someone else,
but
unsure of
what to do with her hands
and how close beside him
she should be.
A refrain loops through her head
like a snatch of song she can’t shake:
“Not love, exactly, is it?
But something else entirely . . .”
At Grant Street he says,
“Hey, look, I have to, uhh . . .”
and motions in the opposite direction.
“Oh, sure! Right!” she says,
and tries to think of something else to say.
“So, I guess I’ll see you in school tomorrow. . . .”
He half-smiles and does that upward-nod thing
and is gone.
When Grady Leaves
When Grady leaves,
I watch him for a minute,
then give my head a little shake and breathe.
When Grady leaves,
I feel a bit abandoned
but realize that I also feel relieved.
When Grady leaves,
I touch my cheeks and forehead;
I clear my throat and
whisper, “Don’t go far.”
When Grady leaves,
a part of me goes with him;
I’m less than who I was, yet somehow more.
History Now
He’s gone.
I turn around,
head back the way we came.
I’m in no hurry to get home.
Minutes later the cemetery looms:
gray pillars at the gate,
gold-lettered sign,
angel shadows thrown across the grass.
I pass the stone we warmed a while ago,
but nothing comes—
no pride,
no shame,
no shiver of delight.
I’m numb.
I make my way to more familiar ground,
first Grampy’s grave
and then at last my mom’s.
I bend and kiss her stone.
And then the almost-thought
I didn’t catch this afternoon
is back and breaking
through at last.
“Oh, Mom!” I ask her headstone.
“Is this how you had me?”
Carnal Knowledge, but No Other
I don’t know his middle name,
his birthday,
where he was born.
I don’t know his favorite cereal,
his favorite sport,
his favorite flavor of ice cream.
I don’t know why he moved here,
who he lives with,
how long he’s staying.
I don’t know if he wants to go to college,
join the army,
or what he wants to be.
I don’t know if he has any brothers,
or cousins,
or pets.
I don’t know if he believes in God,
or fairy tales,
or love.
I don’t know much about him at all—
so why did I think I knew
he would use a condom?
She Speaks to Her Virginity
Dear Friend,
I’m sorry.
I hadn’t meant for you to leave so soon;
had thought you’d take a later train.
But we arrived at the station early,
and I figured—what the heck?
I packed you off with hardly a good-bye
and assumed you’d thank me later
for giving you such an early start.
I didn’t think it through, though,
didn’t realize how the change in schedule
might affect things down the road—
like whether there’d be anyone
at the other end with open arms
to welcome you.
I didn’t realize he might leave you
stranded
on some lonely platform
in the middle of the night
alone.
I know it can’t make a difference now,
but I’m sorry I was in
such a rush to see you gone.
Almost Telling Barb
I call up Barb,
who’s still all hot and heavy
for her one-legged Romeo.
And though it’s great
to hear her voice,
she’s so busy being blissful,
I can’t find the words I need.
Instead I straight-out ask her,
“Have you two ever done it?”
“Almost, but not quite yet.
And we’re in no great hurry.
After all, we’ve got forever.”
“Forever! You really think so?”
She sighs. “I really do.”
I hear the smile in her voice,
and for the first time ever
I lie to her—
my best friend, Barb—
and say my gram is yelling for me
and I have to go.
We say good-bye and hang up
with promises
to call each other soon.
That Night: Thoughts While Lying in Bed
I can’t believe he didn’t use a condom.
It’s not like he didn’t know
I wanted him to. I mean,
I practically handed it to him.
What was I supposed to do—
put it on him myself? Ew!
I can’t believe he didn’t use a condom.
But it’s not like I could possibly get pregnant.
You don’t get pregnant from doing it just once.
No one gets pregnant the first time, right?
I never heard of that happening to anyone.
That would be so totally unfair.
I can’t believe he didn’t use a condom.
Why didn’t I convince him
with some clever line, like, “No glove, no love.”
Oh, that is so not me.
But why was it up to me, anyway?
Shouldn’t the guy have to take some responsibility?
I can’t believe he didn’t use a condom.
Acting Normal
Somehow
I get up the next morning,
go to school,
act like it’s any other day.
I answer a question in English class,
take notes in math,
say hello to people,
pretend to listen to announcements.
But what I’m thinking is,
what do I say when I see him?
How should I act?
Will he pretend that nothing happened?
Should I?
Does this change anything?
Doesn’t it change everything?
I’m in knots as lunchtime nears.
And when I sit down next to him,
I don’t know what to say,
and Grady talks about
a chemistry test he just took—
a chemistry test!
And I can’t even pretend
to be interested because
the only chemistry I care about right now
is the lack of it between us at this minute.
And then the weekend comes
and he doesn’t call.
Emotional Landslide
I’m disappointed
that Grady hasn’t called, but
relieved that I don’t have to talk to him,
yet worried, because if I don’t talk to him,
how can I find out what he thinks about us?
And scared I might find out it was no big deal for him.
I’m confused
at how quickly things went
from something I totally wanted
to something I wish I hadn’t done,
yet proud that he chose me over Valerie,
except, now that I stop and think about it,
I’m horrified that he might have actually had us both
and ashamed that I could even think that about him
but honest enough to admit to myself that it could be true.
I’m embarrassed
I went so far with someone
who didn’t care enough about me to
protect me, and disappointed with him
for not wanting to protect me and angry
for not insisting that he protect me and nervous
about whether he wants to continue this relationship
and unsure whether or not
I even want to continue this relationship
and frustrated
that I don’t have anybody
to blame for all this but myself.
Alone with My Thoughts
Okay, I tell myself,
he didn’t call this weekend.
But I’m sure
things will be better tomorrow.
(As sure as you were that
he’d use a condom?
the part of me that
gives the rest of me no peace
is quick to ask.)
Well, maybe he’ll call . . .<
br />
(Why?
He’s never called before.
In fact, you had sex with a guy
who never even called you!)
He might be thinking of me
this very minute.
(Yeah, right!
As he watches pigs fly by!)
Well, this gives me a chance to
get my thoughts together
so I’ll know what to say to him.
(And that would be . . .)
I have no idea.
(Great!
You have nothing to say
to a guy who’s not there.
A perfect combination.)
Well, what am I supposed to do?
(I wish I knew, sweetie.
I wish I knew.)
Police News
WASHINGTON TWP—
Township police have arrested
Grady Dillon, 18,
of 92 Dixon Drive,
after a lengthy investigation
using surveillance
and undercover officers.
Dillon has been charged with
four counts of possession of
controlled dangerous substances,
four counts of possession of
controlled dangerous substances
with intent to distribute,
one count of intent to distribute
while in possession of
a firearm,
possession of a handgun
without a permit,
and possession of
controlled dangerous substances
with intent to distribute