by Dante Medema
“Call me if you need a ride.
Be safe, my Cordelia.
Be true.”
If he knew . . .
Maybe I wouldn’t have been Cordelia.
Cordelia was the daughter who loved
her father,
King Lear,
but with all her heart.
Not for what he could give her,
not for what he could provide.
But for who he was.
He might have named me
Regan
or
Goneril,
the sisters whose love was fake.
As manufactured
as my mother’s lie.
Winter may be gone
but the chill in my bones
makes it hard to breathe.
Fletcher’s parents are building a cabin
ten miles out of town.
But on weekends
when the builders are gone
and his parents are at home
he throws a bonfire
in a muddy pit.
When the weather’s right,
it is the place
they all go to hang out
and drink
and yell.
The fire rages,
orange and yellow and crimson,
burning as loud as
the party surrounding it.
We get to play in the dark,
hidden behind trees that keep our secrets.
Xtratufs and
fleece-lined leggings,
still in parkas
until we’ve all had
enough beers
to stay warm.
A party,
spring,
in Alaska.
Sana knows everyone
and when we get out of the car
she screams about her college news
then everyone screams her name back.
It still amazes me she is mine.
Her friends are my friends by proxy,
a connection
to the pulse of every party.
My people live in libraries,
not hidden away in the woods
drinking around a bonfire.
But enclosed in books,
released only by an evening
tucked away between pages.
Fletcher hands us drinks,
something fruity and pink,
and it tastes too sweet,
but I drink it anyway.
“Where’s Kodiak?” he asks,
like I should know.
“He said he was coming.”
When I shrug in response,
Fletcher looks confused.
“I thought you were hanging out.”
I take a long swig of the pink drink
and shrug again.
It’s not like that.
I wish it was,
but it’s not.
This isn’t my first drink.
It’s not even my second.
But it is the first time
I have ever
drunk
to forget.
To forget Bea’s attitude
and Iris’s face after I forgot to get her.
How she asked me to be nice to Mom.
Dad’s jokes I don’t deserve.
Jack’s confession
and my back-and-forth texts with him.
Mom’s lie.
Kodiak and our almost kiss.
Our almost kiss
and our almost everything.
The drinks must be working
because for a while I do forget.
And Sana and I laugh until we cry
when we walk farther into the woods
dark skies
deep forest
and rooted path.
We’re dancing,
pretending to be moon witches
and hold hands
then whisper how much we love each other.
Connected like sister snowflakes,
which feels perfect right now.
When we hear voices up ahead
it’s not immediately clear
who we are hearing.
“Maybe this is just a door
that wasn’t ready
to be open
until now,”
we hear a girl say.
Sana whispers close,
“Come on.
You don’t want to see this.”
I shake her off.
Maybe I don’t want to see this
but I need to.
It’s not immediately clear
that the shape of the person
beyond the thick birch trees is Liv.
That the hoodie strings she’s playing with
belong to Kodiak.
I’m not certain that I hear her laughing
or see him stretch an arm out over her shoulders
pulling her into a hug
and
kissing her forehead.
“I feel really good about this,”
he says back.
It may not be immediately clear
but when it does dawn on me
what I’m seeing
I wish it wasn’t.
“Hey, Delia—come here.”
Sana doesn’t look mad,
but a strange combination of
confused
and worried,
like she’s battling between
spring and winter the way I have.
“Maybe you should cool it,”
Sana moves me closer to the bonfire.
“How many have you had?”
But I don’t know.
I don’t care.
I don’t want to.
I love the way the pink drink
puts warm giggles in my belly.
How my cares are a memory
I won’t have to deal with
until tomorrow.
And it doesn’t matter who
my father is.
Or who Kodiak is
talking to.
I’m having fun tonight.
Fletcher curls an arm around me,
smiling at Sana like a halibut,
lopsided and lazy.
“Give her a break, Sana.
She’s just letting loose—aren’t you, Cordelia?”
“You know I’ve always liked you?”
Fletcher whispers in my ear,
and it’s hot and wet,
and sloppy.
“Really?” I ask,
because it’s the first time
anyone
has ever told me
they liked me.
“Yeah . . .”
Fletcher sits next to me on a log
And even though the bonfire
is the only warmth we need,
he wraps a blanket over our shoulders
and leans in close.
His eyes have no starlight.
They’re lax around the edges,
and a little sad.
I’m sad too.
And when I look across the flicker
of fire in front of me,
I see Sana on the other side.
She smiles,
but shakes her head at the same time.
Shrugging, as if to say:
What are you gonna do?
I don’t remember deciding it would happen,
but Fletcher’s mouth is on mine,
and it’s foggy and sluggish
like his eyes.
Our arms are somewhere,
and I can’t tell if
this is something I want to do,
or just another way to forget the fact
that Kodiak is here with Liv.
When we come up for air
and I wipe the corners of my mouth,
he whispers something like,
“You’re so pretty.”
I look away
from his compliment
back thro
ugh the fire,
flickering and hot.
Beyond the pit,
near the trees,
Liv nudges Kodiak
—looking at me with Fletcher
the way I
was looking at her with Kodiak
before.
He’s already watching us,
and does that chin-tilt thing
boys do to say hi.
I don’t know if it’s hurt
lining the rims of his eyes
that I see,
or that I want to see.
Daddio
Me: Ccome get me?
Dad: Sure thing, honey. Everything okay?
Me: Dn’t b mad.
I’m drnk.
Dad: See you soon.
Dad tells me I stink like a cotton candy distillery.
Only then do I get a sickening squeeze
in my stomach from all the sweetness
in that pink drink.
“For a quart of ale is a dish for a princess.
My princess,
are you okay?”
He’s happy,
but the light in his eyes
fills me with sadness
so heavy
my head droops
against the window.
He’s here
because he doesn’t know
the enormous tree trunk
growing between us
has roots so deep and hidden
I don’t think we’ll ever really
heal.
“Honey?” he presses,
pulling the car over
to the side of a forgotten dirt road.
The night is full of stars,
but he doesn’t look to them.
His eyes follow me.
“Did something happen back there?”
The lie is eating me from inside.
I tell Dad the smallest part
of the smallest truth
I can give him.
“I kissed the wrong guy.”
“Now, that doesn’t sound like you.
Why’d you kiss one guy
if you like another?”
“Because the one I like is trouble,
or troubled,”
I can’t tell anymore.
“‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’
This about Kodiak?
Tell me, Cordelia:
Why do you like him?”
The more I talk about Kodiak,
the more I think about Jack.
And before I know it,
I’m saying all the things,
I shouldn’t say to Dad,
without betraying Mom’s lie.
I’m sobbing, saying things like:
I can’t be with him.
If I’m close with him,
it could change everything.
Dad, it could hurt you.
He holds me,
shoulders square,
forcing me to fix
my fuzzy eyes
on him.
“Cordelia.”
He puts my face in his hands,
and it is warmer than I have ever remembered.
“‘I love you more than words can wield the matter
Dearer than eye-sight,
space,
and liberty.
Beyond what can be valued.’
I am proud to call you my daughter.
I am proud to be your dad.
No boy can change that.”
There,
in the 5-star safety-test-rated Volvo
somewhere between winter and spring
while my phone is filled
with texts
from the dad that might have been:
I think, maybe,
the fireworks
might light up the dark skies
this year.
Sana-Friend ♥
Sana: Dude.
Emma Fucking Daniels is here.
Also I talked to your boy.
Me: I told m Dad.
Sana: Wait what?
Are you kidding?
Me: Wait.
Not Jack.
Fletcher.
I’m gng to b sick.
Sana: Uhhhh.
Want me to come over?
Cordelia?
Deeeeeeeelia.
Hope you’re taking a giant Advil and drinking a gallon of water.
Late in the night
my door opens
and Mom sits
at the edge of the bed
while I pretend
I’m still asleep.
She sniffles back tears.
I can hear her biting her nails
and mumbling after she works
herself into saying something.
“I know you’re awake.”
She whispers her words
like she doesn’t know how
to use her full voice anymore.
“I can’t expect you to ever understand.
how I could do something
keep something
so big from you.
That guy—
your—
he—”
Then silence.
She’s crying,
in such a soft, broken way
that I want to reach out and hold her hand,
but I can’t bring myself to move.
Eventually, she stands
and as she walks to the door says
one more thing
before she goes.
“Jack was never what I thought he was.
I tried for a long time to believe in his lies.
Your dad is, though. He’s a good person.
If he knew it would kill him.”
Things Iris says to me in the morning:
Hashtag hungover
Hashtag wasted pants
Hashtag fell asleep in the bathroom
Hashtag mom is pissed
Hashtag smells like butt
Hashtag probably grounded
Hashtag college prep
Kodiak Jones
Kodiak: How’s the hangover?
Me: Must you ask?
Kodiak: I didn’t know you were going out last night.
Me: Me either.
I mean
I didn’t know you were going out last night.
Kodiak: Such a shame.
We could have carpooled.
Then maybe I could’ve protected you from getting Fletchered.
Me: Oh god.
They have a name for it? Ew!
As if I already didn’t feel bad enough.
Kodiak: It’s a damn shame, Cordelia.
Now that you’ve kissed my friend
I guess it means it’ll never happen for us.
Me: Oh.
Yeah.
Kodiak: I’m joking.
That’s a joke. You okay?
Me: Yeah, sorry.
Super hungover.
It’s like I’ve gone out
to the mudflats
where the signs
warn people
to stay off.
I’m standing still
at first.
But the water starts to rise
and the silt softens around my boots.
Before I know it,
I’m stuck.
I can’t breathe,
only watch
as the ocean’s tide moves
closer.
I know,
like we all know,
I’m stuck
and I can’t save myself
from drowning.
If only
I’d known
“We”
were an option.
Kodiak
Kodiak: Moving on.
Have you turned in pages to Ms. Nadeer lately?
Me: No.
I’ve been busy screwing up my life.
And unearthing family secrets.
Kodiak: And ma
king out with Fletcher Wilson.
Me: Can we be done talking about that already?
Kodiak: Let’s meet up. We can workshop some pages.
Get Ms. Nadeer something to read.
I’ve got community service from 1-3. That’s it.
Me: I feel pretty sick.
And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion my parents won’t want me leaving the house after last night.
Sana-Friend ♥
Sana: Morrow dear friend.
How art thou?
Me: Please stop.
Sana: What’s wrong?
Get too much of a pep talk last night from Pops?
Me: *grumble*
Sana: It’s a bummer you had your dad pick you up so early.
You missed all the action.
Me: Yeah? Finally figure out if Emma Daniels is gay?
Sana: Omigherd.
Stop making everything about Emma Daniels and her sexuality. I thought you were more progressive than that.
But no. No confirmation but I will say this . . .
Between finding out about Denver and hanging out with Emma
I’m calling last night a win.
Me: So what happened?
Sana: Wait.
You don’t know?
Me: Liv.
Kodiak.
All the booze.
Made out with . . .
Ugh.
Yeah, no, I don’t think I would’ve remembered.
Even if I was there.
Sana: I might have yelled at your boy.
Me: Please.
Can we not call Fletcher that?
Sana: I’m not talking about Fletcher you dope.
I’m talking about Kodiak.
Me: SANA!
Tell me you didn’t say anything stupid.
Sana: I didn’t say anything stupid.
Me: Tell me you didn’t say anything about me.
Sana: I can’t do that.
Me: WHAT DID YOU SAY?
Sana: That he shouldn’t have brought Liv to a party and flaunted that in front of you.
Then as a grand finale I asked where the hell he got off leading you on.
Me: SANA.
I can’t believe you did that!
I’m so embarrassed!
You said this in front of Liv?!
Sana: I think you mean to say THANK YOU.
And no.
She left like thirty seconds after you did.
That’s about the time he called Fletcher out for kissing you.
Kodiak
Me: Wait.
You got mad at Fletcher for kissing me?
Kodiak: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Me: Sana told me you called him out.
Why?
Kodiak: It’s nothing.
Me: But why?
Kodiak: I don’t know.
I was mad at him.
Me: Why were you mad at him?
Kodiak: Please.