is where to find forgiveness. What
she can’t tell me is how to move on.
Yes, I resent all three of them
for finding forward motion. But
more, I hate them for not carrying
me along. And while, thanks to Martha,
I understand the psychology, I’m not
looking for ways to forgive them.
So, Yeah
Short week or no, it’s a crap
four days till the weekend rolls
around again. The few bright spots
I found all revolved around the girl
who loves me (she promises), but
who I can’t quite accept as mine.
I’m not sure what it is. Not looks.
Alexa is striking. Not intellect.
She’s smart, but not in a show-offy
kind of way. More like she understands
every off-the-wall reference you throw
at her. Definitely not the sex. That one
night was incredible, on many levels.
I crave that kind of intimacy
again, although maybe I’m afraid
of it, too. Because if love sans sex
could eclipse me so completely,
then annihilate me when it’s taken
away, imagine the sheer power of love
coupled with passion, raw exchanges
of energy. A give-and-take of life force.
Scary, and Anyway
I’ve got some healing
to do—hard seeing Hayden
every day but not being
able to talk to her, or touch
her, or inhale her perfume.
Alexa understands that,
but she’s also insistent
about walking next to me
if we share a hallway, or
sitting with me at lunch
if I hang out on campus.
They say puppies are good
for mending broken hearts,
she joked once. Woof, woof.
You can pet me if you want.
The only other person
I’ve talked to is Marshall,
but he’s so wrapped up in
his new girlfriend, Holly,
about all he was good for
was a semi-impersonal,
There’s a better one out
there, man. Go get her.
By Saturday
I still have no desire to go get
anyone or do much of anything.
But I can’t lie around the house,
feeling sorry for myself and trying
to avoid my computer. I mostly
managed it last week, but every
now and again, curiosity tugged
me over to that screen, and Hayden’s
posts. Believe it or not, she found
a way to blame God for the breakup.
Status update: single. God spoke
to my heart and told me I’ve been
distracted. My relationship with
Matt weakened my dedication
to the Lord, and made me forget
what he expects of me. I’ve been selfish!
Selfish? Duh. But I seriously doubt
she’d see things that way without
some outside counseling. Considering
the rest of her confession, I have no
doubt who’s been playing therapist.
Hayden hears God when Judah speaks.
Can’t Stay Here
Obsessing about it. Might as well
go out to the range, see if Uncle
Jessie could use some help.
I didn’t ask for pay last week and
I won’t ask this week, either. But
maybe it could work into a summer
job. I’ve been lucky up till now.
Mom didn’t want me to work.
Concentrate on school, she insisted.
So she might have saved up a nest
egg. But all I’ve got in the bank
is birthday money and allowance.
On a whim, and a strange one, I pick
up the phone and call Alexa. “Hey.
Did I wake you? Good. Just wondering
if you want to work on your shooting.
I’m headed that way. Only caveat
is we might be tied up most of the day.”
She jumps at the chance, and the half
of me who’s scared warns the happy
half that I might have just made a mistake.
Turns Out
She’s nothing but great
company.
We talk about school,
past, present, and,
perhaps, future.
She’s set on the media
arts program at Lane
I tell her I have no clue
where I’ll be post-summer.
I mention my parents’
implosion, omitting
the ugly “whys.”
She says her parents
would rather fight
to the death
than admit defeat.
We gossip about people
we know, including
Marshall and Holly,
an unlikely pair,
but seeming very happy
enmeshed in coupledom.
We avoid the subject
of Hayden and her posse.
But then Lainie comes up,
which reminds me of Vince,
and I think maybe Alexa
could offer me advice.
I give her the main talking
points. “I was positive
it was his fault, and now
I totally feel like an asshole,
you know? Do you think
I should try to apologize,
or just leave it alone?”
She’s so quiet I can almost
hear her brain working.
Finally, she says, If you get
the chance to try and make
something right, you should
take it. What’s the worst
that could happen?
“He could dislocate my jaw?”
Or he might be relieved
that you finally know the truth.
File That Under
“Things I Never Even Considered.”
Perspective is an amazing thing.
Sometimes it takes distance to find
it, and when you’re not used to
looking very far beyond your invented
walls, it might take a fresh pair of eyes.
Speaking of eyes, when we go
through the office, Uncle Jessie turns
his away from his customer long
enough to notice who’s with me.
He smiles and winks, and I shrug.
If it makes him happy, I’m happy.
The indoor range is hopping today,
almost every lane in use. We wait
a half hour until one clears, and I
spend that time reminding Alexa
of the basics, and hammering her
on safety, shooting this close to others.
When she’s all set up, I watch her
for a few minutes. Her innate ability
is impressive. I tell her to stay as long
as she likes, I’m going to see if Uncle
Jessie needs any help, and I leave her
to her own devices. She’ll be fine.
It’s Been Almost a Week
Since I left Uncle Jessie
sweating under a sofa throw.
He should look better and
I suppose he does, but only
marginally. “Still got that bug?”
He’s sitting in an office chair,
and I don’t think he wants to
get up unless he has to. Don’t
know what’s wrong with me.
Just getting old, I gue
ss.
“This may be an off-the-wall
suggestion, but have you seen
a doctor? They get paid to tell
people what’s wrong with them.”
Screw that. I’d have to go all
the way into Eugene. No time
for that. Not for a couple little
ass aches I can fix with aspirin.
“Well, keep it in mind. And
if you need someone to watch
the place, I can take a day off
school. And while I’ve got you
on that subject, let’s talk about
employment. Spring break’s
coming up, and summer’s not
far behind. You said something
about an employee, and I could
use a job. I know the ropes—”
Hey. I didn’t pay you for last
week, did I? Goddamn if I’m not
getting senile, too. He pushes
down on the armrest to stand,
wincing in pain with the effort.
“Sit. I don’t need pay for helping
out for a couple of hours. But if
you hire me, you can toss a few
bucks my way. The Department
of Labor frowns on slavery.”
Smart-ass. I think we can work
something out. Especially if you
bring that girlfriend to work
with you every once in a while.
I don’t correct him. She may
not be my actual girlfriend, but
she’s the closest thing I’ve got,
and that’s good enough for now.
It’s Close to Six
By the time I drop off Alexa
and make it home. It was a good day.
I got a job—will work weekends
and holidays, paid, for my uncle.
I made a decision to apologize
to Vince, damn the consequences.
That was encouraged by the girl
I’m starting to like a whole lot.
Why did I have to lose my heart
to Hayden, and when will I get it
back to give away again? Why is life
so damn complicated? Dad’s car
is gone, but when I go inside the house,
I hear someone moving around
down the hall in one of the bedrooms.
I exit quietly, go to my truck, retrieve
the Glock. Hoping the intruder
isn’t a better shot, I move stealthily
toward the noise, which is coming
from Luke’s room. I hold the gun
in front of me, release the safety.
One. Two. Three. I rush through
the door. “Stop what you’re doing,
or I will shoot. Do. Not. Move.”
The woman screams, but freezes.
It’s Lorelei. When I lower the gun,
I notice my hands are shaking.
“What are you doing in here?”
But once I get the chance to study
the room, it becomes obvious.
Sorry I freaked you out. I’m just
packing up your brother’s stuff.
“No you’re not. You have no right.
In fact, get the fuck out right now.”
Listen. Your dad and I discussed
this and he told me to go ahead.
Adrenaline
And more than a weak shot
of anger have skyrocketed
my heart rate. “My dad? Why?
And where is he?” Before
she can answer, it hits me full-bore.
“I could have shot you,
you know. Somebody else
with his finger on this trigger,
you might be dead. What the fuck
were you thinking?
What the fuck was Dad thinking?
Why would he leave you alone
here? And why are you messing
with Luke’s stuff?”
I lift the Glock and her eyes
go wide. “Don’t be ridiculous.
I’m putting the safety on.”
Take a deep breath, okay?
You’re hyperventilating.
Your dad should have told
you already. . . .
Déjà vu.
Apparently
Lorelei is moving in.
Her husband got their house.
She’s been living in an apartment.
She and Dad feel ready to cohabitate.
Luke’s room is a shrine.
Everything in it is a reminder.
No one can move on like this.
Luke would want us to stop grieving.
Lorelei needs an office.
She’s a medical transcriptionist.
She works from home, so, yippee!
She’ll be here most of the time.
Dad went into Eugene.
To get more packing boxes.
To buy paint, rollers, and brushes.
He should be back any minute.
Lorelei can’t stand mauve.
My Good Day
Disintegrates like dry manure.
She has already boxed most
of the clothes from Luke’s closet.
But the bed is intact, still made
up with the same sheets it had
on the day he died. The clock
on the wall blows its whistle.
Six o’clock. “Will you leave
the rest until tomorrow? I want
to sleep in here tonight.” I need
to say a final goodbye whether
or not any specter of him is here.
She actually lowers her eyes,
a renegade wolf seeking her place
in a new pack. Of course. Did
you have dinner? I can fix you
something. I’m a decent cook.
Your dad bought groceries.
“Yeah, I know. I happen to live
here.” At least, for the time being.
“Look, Lorelei—”
Call me Lori. Everyone does.
Lorelei is such a mouthful.
Three syllables are a mouthful.
“Please don’t interrupt me.
I’m going to tell you the truth,
Lorelei. I think your relationship
with Dad is contemptible. I know
the whole story, or at least enough
of it to understand your reasons,
so no use arguing them. I’d like
to say I feel this way because
my mom and I are close, but that
isn’t the truth. Nor can I say moral
bankruptcy doesn’t run in this
family. But I am highly offended
that my father decided to move
you in here so soon after Mom left,
and completely pissed that you chose
to make your first official act
as woman of the house erasing
my brother’s presence completely.”
She Opens Her Mouth
Wisely closes it again.
We have nothing to say
to each other right now.
“I’m going to make myself
a sandwich. I’ll eat in here. Alone.”
First I return the Glock
to the safety of its lockbox,
then I go slap peanut butter
and jam on a slice of bread.
Grab a couple of beers,
which slims a six-pack
to four. Screw it. Maybe Dad
will think Lorelei is a lush.
If not, whatever. He owes me.
The sandwich goes down
in four short bites, a can of brew
in three long swallows.
My stomach is full, the rest
of me hollow. I sit on Luke’s bed,
watching Batman Forever
on my laptop. Val Kilmer
a
s the sad, dark superhero.
Like me, minus the superhero.
About the Time
Batman and Robin reach Claw
Island, I hear a very loud voice
at the far end of the house.
It’s so loud, in fact, that it rises
above the noise of the movie.
I take it Dad’s home. I brace
for confrontation in:
Three. Two. One.
Bam! The door slams against
the wall. What the hell got into
you? I bought you that gun for
target practice, not to go running
around playing vigilante. You
could have killed Lori!
“Uh, yeah, Dad, that’s what
I told her. On the bright side,
I didn’t shoot. She isn’t dead.
And things are looking up for Batman.”
He crosses the room in two long
strides. Turn that fucking thing
off. This is a serious matter,
smart-ass. Where’s the Glock?
I shut down the laptop. Stand,
to feel less vulnerable. “I’m not
giving up the gun, Dad. I think
my reaction was totally reasonable,
considering I came home to what
I thought was an intruder.”
You realize an actual intruder
might have had his own gun?
Or might have taken yours away
from you and used it himself?
Barring all that, how would
you feel if you actually shot
and killed someone, either
purposely or by accident?
“Excellent questions, Dad, and
I promise to think them over.
But they would be moot if only
you would’ve bothered to communicate
the fact that you were moving
your girlfriend into my home.
Not to mention sanctioning
turning this room into her office.”
Better that than a shrine.
Tension Bleeds
From his shoulders and neck
and he starts to turn away.
Confrontation over? What if
I don’t want it to be?
It’s time to move on.
I notice Lorelei standing just
across the threshold. “You certainly
don’t seem to have a problem
with that, Dad. You moved on before
this room became a shrine.”
He starts to turn back, but Lorelei
gestures for him to really, truly move
on. He goes over, kisses her softly.
The door is still open when she says,
It’s a lot to drop in his lap