He Hasn’t Asked
For a kiss since I was small.
If he wants, he takes.
The passive demeanor has me
totally creeped out, but I am
not fooled by it. This
is no request. It’s an order.
I wipe my mouth carefully,
go over to Daddy, who
waits, an impatient monarch.
I reach up to kiss the plump
of his cheek, but he
turns his face straight on
to mine, and our lips meet.
His mouth is wet,
hungry, and he kisses me
like no father should and just
as I think I’ll retch,
Mom’s footsteps click-click
on the hall tile, coming toward
us. Daddy withdraws.
There’s my beautiful little flower.
We Are Still Very Close
When Mom enters the room,
queen to Daddy’s king.
The caterers want a deposit.
I have to—She takes in the scene
suddenly. Doesn’t like what she
sees. Uh…is everything all right?
Like she wants to hear the truth—
yeah, Mom, just making out with
my father. “Everything’s fine.
I just had something in my eye.”
Her relief at the obvious lie escapes
her lungs in an audible sigh.
Speaking of escape, I can make
mine now. “I’ve got to finish
getting ready for school. See
you this afternoon, okay?”
I can’t help but look at Daddy,
who wears arrogance like aftershave.
Don’t be late, little girl. I’ll
be here, waiting for you.
I Exit the Kitchen
Dash up the hallway, and barely
make the bathroom before three
mountainous bowls of cereal
come pouring from my belly.
Stomach acid roils into my mouth,
bitter as the spit on Daddy’s tongue.
The thought brings a round of dry
heaves. Once my stomach stops
convulsing, I scour my teeth and gums,
rinse with Listerine to kill the germs.
I dare to look in the mirror. “Tell,”
urges the girl on the far side of the glass.
“Tell. Or run.” But she knows me better
than that. Knows I won’t do either.
All Hope Dissolved
I catch the bus, sit in the very front
seat, where I know no one will join
me. I lay my head against the cool
window glass, stare at the nothing
beyond, try to shut out the noise.
Everyone here has parents. Maybe
not together parents, and maybe
some are substitute parents. But
no one has parents like mine.
I’m a complete freak, and so alone.
I was a total fool to ever believe
that someone could save me,
or thaw the frozen death inside
me. Oh Ian, if only you could,
I would run away with you today!
The brakes squeal and the bus
coughs up diesel, and as the next
group boards, I notice a Chevy
Avalanche drive by. It’s Mick.
And glued to him is Madison.
Fine by Me
Although at least one person
I could name will probably
not be happy about this reunion.
But, hey, if it means Madison
will leave me the hell alone,
more power to Mick. Poor guy.
The bus pulls curbside at school,
and I’m the first one off. I go
straight to my locker, half hoping
I won’t see Ian. The other half
needs desperately to see him.
But the bell rings, Ian-less.
I zombie walk between classes,
sit through hours of lecture
without hearing a single word.
Finally it’s lunch, and there’s
Ian, by the library. I start to wave,
think about running into his arms,
lifting my face to his for a kiss.
But then his face morphs into Daddy’s,
Safe in the Far Stall
I wait for the bell to ring,
picking at a scab or two.
The one on my ankle is recent.
I open it wide, encourage
the flow. It’s like milking
venom from my veins.
Wonder how long it would
take to bleed out completely.
Other girls come and go.
Talking. Laughing. Sniping.
A couple dare light up
cigarettes, and I almost
ask for a drag. Filling my
lungs with nicotine gas
just might take the edge off.
But the last thing I need
is to get busted smoking
in the bathroom at school.
Think what my suspension
would do to my parents’
spotless reputations. Secondhand Marlboros will have to do.
I’m Watching Blood Drip
Onto a wad of TP when my cell
signals a text message coming.
Ian, of course. R u ok? Saw
u run in2 the bathroom. I’m
w8ing 4 u to come out.
Looks like I’ll have to oblige.
Can’t hide in here forever.
Into the bowl goes the bloody
tissue. One mighty flush. So long.
Would be nice to so easily get rid
of all of life’s varied detritus.
My fingers are tinted with blood.
I go to the sink, drawing a horrified
stare from the freshman standing
adjacent. “Bloody nose,” I explain.
She accepts the explanation.
Hate when that happens.
Excuses. Excuses. So many excuses.
Too bad mine always seem to work.
With Everyone, That Is
Except Ian. When I offer
the bloody nose pretext,
he assesses me head to foot.
Really…, he says. Did you clean
up your nose with your pants?
What are you, triple-jointed?
I glance down, find one leg
of my white jeans striped
a dark shade of crimson.
My face flares a matching
color. “Oh, that. I cut myself
shaving this morning.”
He pulls me into him. Be more
careful, okay? Don’t want
you to bleed to death.
His sincerity, and the warmth
of him dispel every little bit
of doubt. Okay, maybe not
every single bit. My heart
says I’m so, so his. But, asks
my head, is he so, so mine?
So, So Mine or Not
I agree to let him drive me home
after school. It’s a long afternoon
until the final bell releases me from
Monday PE and the usual locker-room
drama. Madison wears “smug” like sun-
block, greasing her face to an oily gleam.
What she doesn’t seem to get is
it doesn’t bother me one little bit.
Once a bitch, always a bitch,
with or without a boyfriend who has
drunk a six-pack or eight too many.
Psychic says: Train wreck on the horizon.
Ian is waiting for me, and I push
all thoughts of Daddy away as I lean
forw
ard to kiss him. Oh, yes. This
is what a kiss should be. Not wet.
Not hungry. No ego here. It’s all
about me. I intensely love this guy.
He takes a roundabout route home,
stops down near the river. Okay,
it’s mostly a dry river, but who cares?
My heart races, exhilarated at the ride
and at the possibility of what might
come next. Now. Tomorrow. Beyond.
Ian Kills the Motor
Drops the kickstand, takes off
his helmet, and I eighty-six mine.
He reaches for my hand, leads me
across the sand. Finally
he stops, turns to me. I expect
a kiss. Instead I get words.
I know you have to get home,
but I really think we need to talk….
So much for tomorrow.
What can I say but, “Okay.”
This is not at all going
where I predicted it would.
You know I’ve loved you for
a long time. To believe you
might love me back is all
I’ve ever wanted….
Words spew, an eruption
of emotion. “I do, Ian, I do
love you. I know I haven’t
always acted like it, but—”
Shush. Let me talk. Now I need
more from you. I need to believe
you trust me enough to not keep
secrets. To share your secrets.
Here it comes. Cold, bitter
panic, rising up like stomach
acid did just this morning.
“What do you mean?”
He pauses. Kisses me gently.
I’m scared for you, Kaeleigh.
You’re losing weight. And, are—
don’t get mad—are you cutting?
Every instinct cries out to
deny, deny, deny. “No, I…”
It might feel good to confess.
“Things are stressful right now.”
The not-quite-confession riles
the protector in him. You can’t
cut, Kaeleigh. Please. If you
need help, I’ll find it for you.
“No!” No damn help, because
they’d want to know the whys
behind what I do. “No. I’ll be
all right, as long as I have you.”
Then you have to promise
not to cut, and if you think you
have to, you’ll call. He kisses
the promise out of me.
Almost Home
Ian cruises slowly up the block.
I want to tell him, “Keep going.”
And going. I know it’s impossible,
but how amazing it would be to
just keep driving until we found
somewhere safe for the two of us
to settle down, merge into one.
As we pass Hannah’s, I happen
to notice the front door swing
open. Just inside is a familiar
form, standing very close to
Hannah. (Just like in the kitchen.)
The thought makes my skin
crawl. And then he bends to kiss
her. (Just like in the kitchen.)
Before I can twist my head away,
dig it into Ian’s back, Daddy
turns, preparing to leave. And our
eyes meet in a moment of mutual,
instantaneous recognition. He
knows who it is beneath this
helmet. And I know how he
has spent this frigid afternoon.
The House Is Crazy
With activity. Odd, to see
Mom so animated, here
at home, so much more
the way she used to be.
Holding court in the living
room, she gives directions
regally. Wonder if she notices
her nose, tilted so far skyward.
Delivery guys move furniture,
set up chairs, a buffet table.
Maids-for-a-day vacuum, dust,
wash windows, scrub floors.
Some rental place sets up
a wall-sized flat-screen TV.
If all this energy would focus
on the polls, Mom couldn’t lose.
Daddy isn’t far behind me
through the door. Despite
a house full of witnesses,
his hands pounce on my
shoulders, spin me to face
him. Haven’t I told you no
rides with young drivers?
And who was that, anyway?
Spit Pools
At the corners of his mouth,
and his eyes betray insanity.
If we were alone, I’d be frantic
with fear. But we’re not. And
I hold
an amazing trump card. I yank
myself from Daddy’s grasp.
“That was Ian. I’m sure it
means nothing to you, but
he and I have been friends
forever.
That’s right, Daddy. I do have
a friend or two, despite you.”
His pupils go black with rage.
But suddenly I feel brave,
in
control. It probably won’t last
long, but for once, I’ve got
as much power as he does.
The house quiets as I continue
my
taunting monologue. “Of course,
we’re not nearly as good friends
as you and Hannah seem to be.”
Think I went too far. He’s flat
trembling
with fury. And I know if he
could get away with it, he’d
reward me with the back of his
hand.
Raeanne
Holy Effing Moly
What got into Kaeleigh?
Has she totally lost her mind?
Still, the (not real high) estimation
I hold
for her just rose a notch or two.
Kaeleigh retreats as Mom snaps
out of her state of shock, hustles
Daddy back into their bedroom.
The shouting match seems to take
forever
to fire up, but when it does,
it’s a doozer. Even from here,
my ears are ringing. The cleaning crew
ignores the hoopla, returns to work
in
a matter of seconds. But the delivery
dudes seem completely unable
to move stuff without direction.
I decide to take matters into
my
own hands. “Ahem. Can you
please put that table over there,
under the window?” Beyond
the glass, autumn leaves are
trembling
in the November wind. It’s all
going to tumble down soon.
And I’m ready to give it a
hand.
The Afternoon’s Drama
Sent us all to our separate corners.
He Picked Up
With some trepidation.
Caller ID totally busted me.
Uh, hi. Uh…I should tell you, me
and Madison are a thing again.
“I know. I don’t want to hurt
your relationship….” Oh no,
not at all! “It’s just I really need
to get my head. Please? I’ll make
it worth your while.”
The greed factor works every time.
Oh. Okay, just so you know. You know?
Was I ever really with this guy?
“Hey, no problem. I promise
to be the perfect lady.” Just stoned.
Give me fifteen minutes. But hey.
&n
bsp; Promise not to tell Mad, okay?
Fuck. Whatever. I made my voice
real sweet. “Oh, I’d never do that.
But I do miss…oh, you know.
It was always so good with you.”
He’s on his way. And I’m…
Out the Window
Cutting through the sea of fog
like an orca on the hunt.
I don’t have to wait long before
headlights find me in the mist.
I climb up into the Avalanche,
dive immediately under the seat
without even saying hi. Not nice.
I find the tray, start to roll. “Hi.”
Mick looks at me, laughs.
Okay, then. So where to?
Translation: Exactly how will
you make it worth my while?
Not like that, m’ dear. For all
I know, you’ve got Madison on you.
“Don’t care. Just drive. Not through
town. And please don’t speed.”
OMG. How long has it been since
I’ve filled my lungs, held it in,
dropped way down low behind
a hedge of “who gives a fuck”?
A Half Hour Later
Mick and I are somewhere
out Foxen Canyon, totally