No one needs my problems
Any more than I do.
I would talk
I could talk
I should talk
But I can talk
Myself
Out of talking
With anyone.
FULL DISCLOSURE
On the way back from 7-Eleven
With an after-dinner Slurpee
I run into Dad’s student
The bearded stoner
Kieran is his name.
Silly, possibly imprudent
That I toke with him
In the park.
His smile slides smartly away
When I say “seventeen.”
But he recovers.
How has your summer been so far?
Do you have a job?
Blearily
I tell him about Marika
And he says all kinds
Of patronizing things
About generosity
And what a good person
I must be to work with her.
This is news to me.
I thought I was doing it for money.
WHISPERS
Words waft up with heat waves
Trying to sleep with spinning things
Swimming in the water
In the ceiling.
Now I float feeling stupid
And clueless
But still the whispers drift, dancing
Up the stucco walls
To my window
Parker, no.
I sit up
Stand up
Kayli’s voice on the front step
In the steamy air
The whole street watching her
Repeat no
I open my mouth to speak
But Kayli says Just go
Parker retreats
Conceding this battle
But maybe not
Admitting defeat.
Sweetie?
I call down
Are you okay?
But she disappears
Or doesn’t hear
Or care
My thoughts tilt and melt
And sleep slips its
Slender arms
Around me.
DROPPED CALL
The home phone rings
And rings
And Mom picks it up
Hello?
No one there
She says with a shrug
But when it happens
Again
Does some boy
Have a secret crush
On you
Or your sister?
Crush? I say
Not that I know.
I don’t tell her
I’m in on all the secrets.
FIRST BASE
Crack of ball on bat
David in his baseball hat
Me in cut-offs on a picnic mat.
He said he’d hit a homer for me
Like a teen TV movie parody
Those ones that end in tragedy.
But a sticky orange Popsicle
The heat rising like it’s tropical
Makes the summer afternoon magical
For today no one gets caught by lies
No one gets hit by a ball and dies
And no one tells secrets or cries.
EVASION
I like pizza
And boys
Together especially.
Though sometimes I prefer boys
With their mouths full of pizza
Than asking awkward questions.
Like are we a couple?
And why are you so afraid
Of being normal?
And if I could list
All the reasons I’m afraid
It might take my whole life.
Instead
I almost tell David
That I love him.
I love him for
What he doesn’t know
About me.
FILE MANAGEMENT
things
the I
though almost
as say
feel are
to piling
starting too
I’m high
THE BOOK OF MORMON CAMPING
It sounds like a nightmare to me
But “all denominations are welcome”
And Kayli doesn’t want to face
Two weeks without Parker
Her deceptively proper and polite
Mormon boyfriend
Who I happen to know
Has reached second base at least.
Two weeks of tall trees
A green lake
Campfires
Lumpy bunks
And sneaking into shadows
For fumbling frolics
In fragrant piles
Of pine needles.
Please oh please oh please
Kayli says
I promise I’ll pass
All my classes.
I pinky promise.
Pinky promises bear no weight
With Mom
But Dad is moved
By Kayli’s earnest entreating.
Mormons, Mom says later
They’ll suck her in
To their bizarro world.
Then she changes,
Puts on her church dress
And drags Dad and Kayli
To the house of our God.
LUNGS
We all pretend not to listen
To Kayli breathe
Mom especially
Stops
Talking
In the middle of sentences
And waits while Kayli
Ties her shoes
Or pours juice
Listening
Trying to hear
The telltale hiss
Like a punctured tire
A gas leak
Something toxic
It’s usually mild
“Mild,” they say at the ER
Except when it’s not
Except when it’s
Catastrophic
I pretend not to listen
To the panic in Mom’s voice
Next year, she says
Or the year after
Like things will be different
Mom trusts God
To help and support her
Help Kayli breathe
Whatever it takes
But she doesn’t trust God
Enough.
CAPRICIOUS: PART ONE
Like all good Catholics
Mom is obsessed with death
She reads the obituaries
From back home
And visits graveyards
With bunches of daisies
Picked in the lane.
We got Charlotte a headstone
She tells me
About a homeless woman
Who died last New Year’s
Frozen like leftovers
Resplendently dead
On a park bench
With a book I gave her
Tucked in her pale hand.
Charlotte rests
Under a scrawny tree
And I nearly break my ankle
In a gopher hole
On the way to her grave.
I see a golf ball
Two condoms
And a child’s mitten
Squashed in the mud.
Mom lays the daisies
On the stone
And murmurs a prayer
While I hear the clang
Of a Dumpster closing
The cars on the highway
And wonder what
Charlotte ever did
To God.
AN ANSWER
Dear Raphaelle,
Thank you for writing. Samir and I haven’t spoken in years.
I email him on his birthday, and other days.
I miss him too. I miss my whole family.
I appreciate what y
ou are trying to do, but I think it’s hopeless.
Some chasms can never be crossed.
I’ve thought about calling Sam.
I imagine he has his own cell phone now.
It’s not my place to ask you for his number,
but I’d love to speak to him
Even for a few minutes. You could give him my number too.
Please don’t think badly of him for this.
Family comes first to him.
To me too, but I can’t change who I am.
All the best,
Ashraf
NOT YOUR BUSINESS
Samir looks left then right
Then plants a kiss on me
Behind Starbucks.
Samir looks intent
When he reads the email
On my phone
Samir looks at his feet
When he tells me
I don’t understand.
Samir looks at his watch
And I remind him
I lost a brother once.
He lived and died
In the time it takes
To tell his story.
We look at each other
Across that chasm
Ashraf described.
DUSK
The sun skims along the horizon
Rolling slowly like a ball neglected
Slipping into the earth reluctant
Darkness trickles over houses
Leeching colors from lawns sighing
And cooling the air relieved
My feet turn me away from home
And past sprinklers going tsk tsk tsk tsk
As though they know my destination
Is David’s house.
WITNESS
It’s hard to watch someone you love
Watch someone they love
Fall apart.
Like all those times with Mom
Catching her
Weighing herself
For the fourth time that day
Watching her eat
Or not eat
And the way Dad looked at me
When she’d abandon dinner
It was hard to watch him
Watch her leave.
David beseeches his raving brother
To come inside
Hey, Ella, whazzup?
Michael slurs at me
Blinking and twitching
Let’s go party.
And he yanks my hand so hard
I stumble onto the grass.
Whoa, sorry, Michael says
And helps me up
That was uncool.
David doesn’t move
He doesn’t speak
It’s hard to watch him
Watch this colossal wreck
This giant idol
Tumble over in the dust
Like Ozymandias.
Michael pulls his shirt off
Hey, Ella, let’s moonbathe
He says and lies down
On the driveway.
His rib bones outline a history
Of self-neglect.
Come inside, David whispers
I’m not sure to whom.
CONFIDE IN ME
It started again
At college
He dropped out
And came home
And seemed to get better.
But lately he’s relapsed
I guess.
Relapsed.
I really never thought
I’d have to use that word.
And he’s nineteen now
So we can’t force him into rehab
Like last time.
Rehab.
Another word I never thought I’d need.
And now you’re looking at me
Like “why didn’t you tell me this
Before now?”
The thing is it’s not every day
Sometimes he’s like my brother
We shoot hoops and watch hockey
But sometimes he loses it
And runs off
Somewhere
Then he usually texts me
And I go pick him up
And he’s like this.
ADVICE I COULD GIVE MY SISTER
They tell you boys will take what they want
From your body and leave you with nothing
But tears and unwanted babies, but really boys
Take much more (if you let them) from your heart.
They tell you to be strong and independent and
Decide where and when you want to give that
Part, but really you need to be strong enough for
Two because every feeling he’ll need to share.
And he will be as helpless as that unwanted baby
In the face of sadness or regret or worry or anger
He won’t know what to do unless you tell him and
Then you have to be prepared for him to blame you
When it all goes to hell.
COFFEE
Samir and I
Have coffee
Before his shift.
Him struggling
To not touch me
Me struggling
To wake up.
I rub my eyes
And focusing
See Genie.
The door swings closed
Behind her
And Samir
Seeing my expression
Spins.
Do you want me
To kick her out?
He asks.
She gets in line
Glancing my way.
The line moves slowly
I’ll kick her the fuck out
Samir whispers
I don’t care
What it looks like.
The line moves
She glances.
I still haven’t
Remembered how
To speak.
Tell me what to do
Samir says.
Nothing, I manage
It’s fine.
It’s not fine.
She glances my way
Halfway down the line
Then, coffee-less, turns
And leaves.
TEXT FROM DAVID
Can’t do lunch.
Looking for Michael.
Again.
Sorry.
HONESTY
I ask Marika
Is it wrong
To bail on someone you care about
Because you don’t want
To deal with their problems?
Yes.
I-M-A-G-I-N-E
If
Mom
Had
B-A-I-L-E-D
On
Me.
I ask Marika
Is it wrong
To tell people
Everything’s fine
When it’s not?
S-T-U-P-I-D
Not
Wrong.
I ask
Is it wrong to have sex with one boy
When you are falling in love
With another?
She takes her time answering.
Wrong
And And And And
A-N-D
Stupid.
WISDOM
You
Are
S-E-L-F - D-E-S-T-R-U-C-T-I-V-E
For
All
The
Wrong
R-E-A-S-O-N-S
You
Think
The
World
Is
Out
To
H-U-R-T
You
So
You
Want
To
Get
There
F-I-R-S-T.
chapter eight
Unfinished
LAST MINUTE (S)MOTHERING
Do you have batteries
For the nebulizer?
Your spare inhalers?
How far away is the clinic?
What’s the phone number?
Drew, did you write it down?
What’s the camp nurse’s name?
Do you have sanitary pads?
Bug spray?
Sunscreen?
Band-Aids?
Socks?
Sunglasses?
A hat?
Do you have a hat?
Do you have our cell numbers?
Do you really have to go?
TURN SIGNAL
She watches the car
Until the traffic lights change
And Dad turns left
Toward the highway
Out of town
Out of her reach.
It’s only two weeks, I say
She watches the corner
As the traffic lights change
Do you want to make lemonade?
I ask, her back turned to me
I wonder if it was me in the car
How long would she watch?
It’s only two weeks, I think
Maybe Mom doesn’t quite
Understand what I’ve lost too
My best and only girlfriend
The one who might listen
And snort with sympathetic outrage
If I ever gathered the courage
To tell her.
BRUSH AND INK
If Marika notices my silence
She makes no comment
Maybe in listening to my nothing
She catches the truth of me.
She makes no comment
When I press my brush to paper
And leave a shapeless blob
A spreading black stain.
Maybe in listening to my nothing
Something shouts of joy or darkness
Marika sees more than brush and ink
In my uncertain unmoving hand.
She catches the truth of me
The volumes of lore stacked on shelves
She’ll find an unmanageable archive
If Marika notices my silence.
MORE SILENCE
When I get home
Mom is tutoring Nina
Aidan asleep in his stroller
Dad is in his study
Door closed.
I pour a glass of milk
In the empty kitchen
Adding things to the pile
Of stuff I really need to say.
Mom, I’m sleeping with Samir
Dad, David’s brother is a drug addict
Mom, Samir’s gay brother misses him
Dad, I think Kayli’s boyfriend is a jerk.
I feel like I’m going crazy again.
Mom? Dad?
THE GIFT
Text from Samir:
OK, I’ll call Ash 2morrow. 4 u.
Text from Ella:
Yay! What made u change your mind?
Capricious Page 7