But it was great
That’s what I’d said when Dad brought it home
So excited to fix it up with me
That summer after seventh grade
I’d had to work at it at first
Shoving the magazine picture out of my mind
The one I’d taped to the bottom of my sock drawer
I knew it was too much
What with the tractor
Needing to be replaced
Too expensive to ask for
A bike like that
It’s still there
On the bottom of my sock drawer
The picture edged with yellowed tape
Of the Sapphire Princess
White tires with saber-toothed treads
To crunch through the gravel in the drive
Tropical sea blue frame
Silver streamers fountaining out of the handlebars
I knew just how they would sound
Those metallic streamers
Snapping in the wind I would make
The best part had been the seat
Cloud white
With a picture of a butterfly
Pulling a ribbon of rainbow across the sky
The more we had sanded
oiled
primed
That old bike
The easier it became to see my butterfly
That old bike
Rattle-canned new
Named Ollie
Kinetic
My legs need to move
I don’t run
But a walk wouldn’t be fast enough to keep up with my mind
That won’t stop skipping
Back to the memory
Of Cody
Looking down at me
After my head
It bounced
That’s what he said
Back to Asia’s truck
Driving
Away
Which is where Ollie comes in
It’s been a long time
Since Ollie came off the wall
A mass of thistle twisted through her spokes
Leave itchy nettle bites across my knuckles
Up my arms
As I pull her free
Tires need air
Seat has to be raised
But the paint
Goldenrod yellow according to the can
Sealed out the rust that comes after the rain
Twisting up the seat is harder than I thought
Pollen slurries with dust
Solders screws stiff
It’s worth it though
This getting her out
Ready for a ride
Because if anyone would understand
How I feel
It would be Ollie
Ollie knows what it is
To lie dismembered on the porch
Evening after evening
Listening to the night bugs bounce off the porch light
Wondering if you’ll be put back together
If all the pieces will still fit
All I want to do is ride
Somewhere
Fast enough
To leave the confusion
Behind
Wake-up Call
I shouldn’t have gone back in
To grab my water bottle
But I did
Now the phone is ringing
I do
Don’t
Want to
Have to
Answer it
Because what if it’s
Dad
Hello.
“Raesha?”
Mr. Bradford. How are you?
“Good. I was calling because I heard you—”
Right now I hate this teeny, tiny town
Where news can’t be corralled
For even a second
Got sick. But it’s no big deal. I’m fine now.
“Glad to hear it. I’ve got to have everyone healthy you know.”
I can picture him
Playing with the brim of his ball cap
Wishing this call was over
Almost more than I do
Because cowboys like him
Don’t have conversations
Like this
“You haven’t looked well…”
I’ve been tired.
My feet pace
Across the linoleum and back
Not liking where this conversation
“I’m going to need you to get a doctor’s note before you ride again.”
Just went
What?
“It’s a liability thing. No big deal.”
But I can still come to practice on Friday, right?
“Sure. Just bring me a note.”
All right.
Knowing that won’t
Happen
I’ll forge one
Before I go to a doctor
Who will get it all wrong
I’m not sick
I’m ready to ride
“Take care, Rae.”
Flat line
Dial tone
Conversation
Done
Blackout
Leaner
Lighter
Faster
Minus five
This game
Isn’t
Over
Yet
This person I’m watching
From far away
Looks a lot
Like
Me
Pouring cereal
Whole grain O’s
Into the bowl
With milk
Lots of
Milk
Bowl
After
Bowl
Because I deserve
To hurt
Like
This
Poison Control
It has been in my top drawer
This tiny brown bottle
Tucked into a roll
Of green and white socks
With tiny kittens on the toes
Two tablespoons
Should do the
Trick
So I drink
Four
Plus two
Not expecting
The maple syrup
Sweet
Taste
That makes me gag
As I pour water
Glass
After
Glass
Of water
Down my throat
Hands shake
Falling leaves
Frost melts
Into beads
Of sweat
Turns my skin cold
As my knees
Find the floor
Retching
Only water
From a stomach
Twisted
Torn
To
Rags
Blood runs
Turns my knuckles red
It’s still
Not
Enough
When will
It will
Never
Be
Enough
Roller Coaster Road
It’s called Roller Coaster Road
Not by any sign or map
You know when you’re on it though
Taking the back way to town
All of a sudden the road starts to buck
That pounded clay road
Rises out of the flat
Tosses you up
Slides you down
Over and over
That’s where I go
To the hills
That rise and fall
To the hills
Guaranteed to make
My muscles burn
My heart slam
In my chest
Guaranteed to push
My body
To the edge
All Fall Down
I pedal
Hard
Gaining momentum
Down the first
Hill
Losing it on the way up
The next
Standing
Weight in my heels
As I push the pedals
Around
Heartbeat thunder
In my ears
Muscles scream
Stomach cramps
Fold me
Over
Tires slow
Ollie’s front wheel
Right angles as she clatters
To the ground
I fall
Heaving
Eyes streaming
Bile
In my throat
Blood
On my lips
The sound
Of a diesel engine
Louder
Coming
Closer
Registers
Gravel cuts
My palms
I drag myself
Toward the edge
Of the road
Dry grass
Against my cheek
Everything
Goes
Dark
911
I gather them up
First my arms
Then my legs
Straighten them
Bend them into being
Remind myself that they’re still attached
To this body that’s mine
That’s up
Running toward the truck tipped on its side
In the grass on the far side of the road
Wheels still spinning
All I hear is her name
Lacey, Lacey, Lacey
In a voice that’s not my own
It’s hers
Kierra
Calling to the sister who won’t open her eyes
Kierra lifts Lacey
Passes her through the window of the door dented shut
Puts her in my arms
I’m scared
By the blood above her eyes that should be open
Careful of her arm
With too many bends
As I set her gently, so gently
On the ground
Kierra needs me
I reach through the window
Our fingers twine
I pull
She climbs though the window
Into the fuel-soaked air
We have to chain link
Arm through arm
Not sure who is supporting-dragging-pulling who
Onto the grass
Lacey, Lacey, Lacey
I can hear the sirens
See the rescue vehicles in the finally that feels like forever
The trucks
One of them white
Wailing red
Loud enough to wake her
Lacey, Lacey, Lacey
Eyes thrummed open by the pain
Out of the dark
I
fall
in
Next Please
It’s my own reflection
Staring back at me
From the plate glass wall
Separating the waiting room
From the gift shop full of flowers
I look away
From the image
Of the girl I hate
Watch people in wheelchairs and casts
Move through the doors to the parking lot
Open
Close
Inhale
Exhale
Wishing the door to the ER
At the end of the hall
Would do the same
Kierra got to go in
Being family and all
Wasn’t made to sit on an orange plastic chair with faux wood arms
That match the counter
The nurse in teddy bear scrubs
Sits behind
Fingers moving across a keyboard
Eyes locked on her computer screen
I can’t look at them
Those fuzzy brown bears tumbling across her shirt
So I go back to looking at the bloody-lipped, bruised, stiff girl
Who looks a lot
Like me
If Only
It’s my fault
I dug them
The holes that our words fell into
Dad’s
Mine
Excavated the dirt myself
That I packed into balls and flung
At Kierra
Who wouldn’t have pulled off the road
So hard
Too fast
Wouldn’t be behind the red-signed doors
With Lacey
My-her-our Lacey
Lacey with her arm bent so wrong
If I wouldn’t have been there
Been able to pull Ollie into the grass
If I could handle looking at the world straight
But I couldn’t
Had to slant it sideways
Had to be light
The kind that comes from doing without
When you’re trying to turn yourself into a shadow
I just thought
Maybe
If I could whittle
Strip away the part of me that
loves-hates-cries-worries-wonders-thinks
Too much
The me that was left
Wouldn’t hurt anyone
Wouldn’t leave them lying in a bed
Breathing butterfly breaths
Until they’re sent home
When the doctors know
What they don’t tell you
That the needles running in
Can’t replace
All the life
Leaking out
These calm, peach-colored walls
With the pictures of
flowers-fruit-trees
Life turned still
I can’t sit here
All my pacing
Sets the nurse glaring
I can’t calm down
Not when I’m thinking about Dad
They told him I was fine
But Dad doesn’t know
Won’t believe
Until he sees me
So he’ll drive too fast
Will forget how the washboards pull your truck
To the side of the road
Then it will be
My fault
Again
Spare Change
The nurse raises her eyes from the computer screen
Distracted by my pacing
Hands me change
She pulled from a drawer
Beneath the counter
“Why don’t you get yourself something to eat?” she suggests.
“The cafeteria is closed, but there are vending machines.”
I know where they are
Machines backed aga
inst a wall
Plastic fronts glowing
In the room
The size of a closet
Next to the elevator
I remember this place
“Get yourself a treat.”
That’s what they’d said
Aunts, uncles, neighbors
Handed me quarters
Clustered around Dad
Fenced him off from the doctor coming down the hall
In his paper pants
Mask pushed down around his neck
I begin at the end farthest from the door
Cokes, ice cream, coffee
It doesn’t matter
How much
What it is
One machine, then the next
Punching the coins into the slot
The best part is the sound of my palm
The sound of it slapped flat against the buttons
Smooth rectangles
Small round knobs
pop open the skin, pulled white across your knuckles curled in a fist
if you hit them
just right
I pretend it’s my fist knocking them out
The cans
bars
cups
Rattle-clunked down the belly of the machines into the trays
It doesn’t take long to get a rhythm
Build up speed
whack, rattle, clunk,
whack, rattle, clunk, fat
whack, rattle, clunk, worthless
whack, rattle, clunk, bitch
whack, rattle, clunk, fat
whack, rattle, clunk, worthless
whack, rattle, clunk, bitch
whack, fat whack, fat whack, fat whack, fat
whack
“Raesha—”
Daddy—
I stop
It all
Right then
Crying and crying until my chest is empty
With his arms wrapped around me
All the pieces
I thought I’d lost
Come together
Waiting—Still Waiting
I know it’s still there
The scared
That filled her eyes
Spilled down her cheeks
Left riverbeds of red
When she’d heard
It was them
Pulled from the crumpled cab
Coughing bile and blood
Stretched out backboard-straight
With latex gloves
How will she do it?
Corral it
Inside her chest
Where a grandma’s heart beats
It’s what I worry about
Sitting curled into Dad
In this space
That tastes like bleach
Waiting
Worried
Waiting
Wondering
When her eyes will turn to slate
If they haven’t already
The Sky Between You and Me Page 19