all at once. Give him some
time. He’ll come around.
At least she stopped what might
have turned ugly. At least he isn’t
bitching about me drinking his beer.
Slipping into Sleep
I notice Luke’s scent
has faded from the pillow,
which now smells a lot
more like me. When
Luke’s clothes are in
boxes, and these sheets
are washed and this bed
is gone, every vestige
of Luke will have vanished;
the only thing left, memories.
I reach into my recollection,
find us again in the shade
of that bridge discussing
alternate evolutions. He
was ever so much older
than the sum of his birthdays.
Maybe he was an alien
after all. Maybe he did
find his magic, and then
he was ready to go.
The Alarm
Wakes me at seven thirty.
I’ve kicked off the covers
during the night, and I shiver
beneath a pale sheet of light.
I will never come into this
room again. “Goodbye, Luke.”
No point in making the bed,
I leave it in disarray. I dress
in the same clothes I had on
yesterday, not bothering to
shower. I circle the room once,
touching the walls, which will
likely be some awful neutral
shade by the time I return home.
I look for proper mementos of
my brother, choose the clock
and a picture of the two of us
that is sitting on the nightstand.
I put those in my room, along
with my laptop. Then the Glock
and I head over to the range.
I’ve got a job, and the thought
of making a few extra bucks cheers
me a little. I might need the cash.
On the Way Over
I come to a decision. When I arrive,
Uncle Jessie is just unlocking the door.
I bring the Glock in with me. “Do
you happen to have a locker available?”
I should know this information,
anyway. Some people prefer to keep
their weapons at the range, so Uncle
Jessie has a storage area, complete
with lockers. Sure. I’ve got three
open. Why? You want to use one?
“Yeah. Since I’ll be out more often,
I might as well keep my pistol here.
There’ve been some burglaries in
the neighborhood. Better safe than sorry.”
That’s a lie, but I don’t really want to
tell him I came damn close to taking
out my future stepmother. I only want
to shoot targets. I don’t want to be sorry.
It’s a Slow Afternoon
Uncle Jessie and I spend
most of it sitting side by side,
shooting the breeze, which
isn’t quite as exciting as
the target shooting I did
earlier in the day. I even
got paid for that time since
I was helping an older lady
learn how to hit what she
pointed her gun at. But now,
two members out back and
the office empty, talk turns
to Dad, and how I came
home yesterday to find out
he’s moving his girlfriend in.
I omit the part about almost
shooting her. “I found Lorelei
dismantling Luke’s room.”
Lorelei? Not the same one
he used to go with, is it?
When I say yes, he shakes
his head. My, my, my. Last time
I saw her was right before I deployed.
She was about ready to pop.
Pop?
“You mean ‘pop’ as in have
a baby?” Something else no
one bothered to tell me?
Well, yeah. Looked like she
swallowed a basketball.
Had a little girl with her, too.
Holy crap. She’s got kids?
I’m getting sick of surprises. “You
deployed ten years ago, yeah?”
Hell, yeah. Fallujah or bust.
Don’t know what I was thinking,
joining up. No one’s a hero in war.
He goes on to tell Iraq stories.
Some I’ve heard, others are new,
but I’m not really paying attention.
I nod and grunt, toss out
a comment or two when something
he says sinks in. But mostly,
I’m stewing about Dad, his woman,
and her children, damn them all.
The last thing I want is new siblings.
When I Get Home
Dad and Lorelei are eating
dinner. I slam the front door,
stomp into the kitchen. Dad
gives me his pissed expression;
she just looks hopeful.
He: Where the hell have you been?
She: Hey, Matt. Join us? I made—
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
Total lie. “And I was at work.
Sorry, I forgot to tell you Uncle
Jessie gave me a job. Weekends
and holidays, ten bucks an hour.”
She: I think that’s great!
He: What happened to discussion?
I go to the fridge, grab a beer, pop
the tab. “You mean, like discussing
moving her in? I don’t remember
that discussion. Or was there one about
scrubbing Luke’s room free of him?
Or wait. Is there, perhaps, a pending
discussion about her kids?”
Dad Tells Me to Stop
Drinking his beer,
stop drinking his Jack,
stop drinking, period,
or he’ll put me in rehab,
I just might have a little problem.
(Dare you to try it, pot-who-calls-the-kettle-black.)
She tells me she’s got
a daughter who’s twelve,
and a son who’s ten,
both of whom will live
with their father so they
don’t have to change schools,
don’t have to lose friends.
(All they have to lose is their mother.)
He says they’ll come to visit
some weekends, and over
the summer. She says not
to worry, they have sleeping
bags and love to pretend
they’re camping out
when they sleep on the floor.
(Wonder how long before they’ll have my room.)
Monday Morning
English class is all abuzz
as Ms. Hannity collects
her five classroom copies of
The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
Just until the school board meets,
she promises. I’m positive they’ll
retain the book. It’s a necessary story.
It seems some parent challenged
it due to offensive content.
The review committee voted
to keep the book without restrictions.
That angered this parent, who
accused the committee, our librarian,
and the English teachers who offer
Perks as independent reading,
of “promoting the homosexual
agenda.” He organized a campaign
within his church to insist on a vote
by the school board,
and until
that happens, the books are being
removed from the library and classrooms.
Said parent happens to be Hayden’s dad.
I Know That
Because Frank DeLucca’s
letter to the editor is circulating.
Excerpt:
How can any teacher, in good conscience, place pornography on a sanctioned reading list? This book contains graphic descriptions of masturbation, intercourse, rape, and homosexual sodomy. It, in fact, seeks to legitimize the homosexual lifestyle, and if a review committee votes to retain this book, it is promoting the homosexual agenda. Ditto any librarian who displays this book in her library or teachers who recommend it to their students.
Oh, it gets better:
It is not enough to say leave it to the individual parent to decide what his child may read. Too many parents don’t have the time or inclination to observe what their children are reading, and far too many parents don’t raise their children to respect their decisions. That is why we, as a community, must assure that every book our children can access meets high moral standards. This is what God would have us do.
Apparently, God’s into banning books.
Plenty of sex in the Bible. Would he ban that, too?
DeLucca, Raging Jerk
“High moral standards,” meaning
his own. How many decent books
could meet them? How many
decent people could? And what,
exactly, is his agenda? Why so
publicly take this to the extreme?
Ms. Hannity vows to soldier on.
My colleagues and I will speak
before the school board. We don’t
believe in censorship, but there’s
more. Some young people have no
one to speak for them. Charlie does.
Charlie, the main character
in Perks, could have spoken
for Luke when nobody else did.
Ms. Hannity has just soared in
my estimation, even with her fake
Southern accent. Frank DeLucca,
on the other hand, has plummeted
quite near the gates of hell. Now
I remember, not long ago, Hayden
reading Perks. Surely she’s not
involved in this, she and her youth
ministry minions? Dare I ask?
I Catch Her at Lunch
Because I can’t let it go,
and also because I miss her.
Lucky me, I even manage to
find her before she can reach
her friends. “Hey.” I offer
my warmest, most genuine
smile. “Can I talk to you for
a minute? How are your feet?”
She looks confused. My feet?
“Never mind.” Sometimes
I need to rein in my stupid
sophomoric humor. “Actually,
what I wanted to ask was about
this book challenge thing.”
She goes chill. That’s my father.
“I know. I saw his letter. But
I was wondering if you agree.
I mean, I thought you liked
Perks. You’re not supporting
this craziness, are you?” Say no.
The Bible tells me to honor my father.
Good Luck with That
She keeps glancing over
my shoulder, so, “I know
you want to join your friends,
but can you tell me one thing?
Whatever happened to brave,
independent Hayden, the girl
I fell in love with? The one
who fell in love with me, too,
despite what her father had to say?
Where is the determined girl
who was willing to risk eternal
damnation to spend time with me?”
She turns those killer eyes up
to meet mine. That girl lost her way.
She forgot to put God first, always.
This girl found her way back.
People change, Matt. I’m sorry
you have a hard time accepting it.
She Gets the Last Word
But then, she always did,
except, maybe, with her father.
Anyway, she’s right. I don’t
like change. I prefer a nice,
solid status quo—too bad,
so sad for me. When Hayden
goes, she takes my appetite
with her, so I start toward
Mr. Wells’s room. I can sit
outside the door until he unlocks
it, calls class to order. Almost
there, I notice Vince not far
ahead of me. Engage? Pull back?
Screw it, what do I have to lose?
I quicken my step until his arm
is in reach. “Hey, Vince?” I say
as my hand closes on his bicep,
which is boulder strong and
I really hope he doesn’t decide
I’m being aggressive. He stops
without turning around.
What do you want, Turner?
I maneuver around him,
noticing how people scoot
wide of the possible conflict.
“I just want . . . Look, this is hard,
and I don’t expect you to forgive
me, but I hope you’ll at least
consider it. I’m sorry I didn’t
believe you about not outing
Luke. Hayden told me what
really happened and . . . Shit, man.
I should have listened to you,
should have known you better.”
He doesn’t punch me, but neither
does he offer to shake my hand.
He Says
Yeah, dude, you should have.
Then he walks away.
I’m not sure how to
rate the encounter.
Hopeful?
Hopeless?
A big fat question mark?
You tried, and that’s what counts.
It’s Alexa, standing behind me.
When I turn to face her,
she insinuates herself under
my arm, slides her hand
as I am, I accept her presence.
Anyway, give him some time.
I bet he’ll come around.
“Maybe.” People are checking
us out, no doubt wondering
what we’ve got going on.
That includes Hayden and
the Biblettes, who’ve vacated
the lunchroom. That makes me smile.
In American Culture
Mr. Wells decides to take
a break from fifties advertising,
in favor of a discussion
of book censorship in America.
Some of the most challenged books
are also considered “must read.”
These include classics like Of Mice
and Men, To Kill a Mockingbird,
and Slaughterhouse-Five. Can
anyone tell me some more modern
books that are regularly challenged?
Hands go up and titles are
offered up:
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
The Color Purple
The Catcher in the Rye
The Kite Runner
All regularly challenged, agrees
Mr. Wells. Also Harry Potter, Junie
B. Jones, and Captain Underpants.
Don’t groan. Some parents think Junie
and the Captain are poor role models.
Let the Discussion Begin
It’s a good one, revolving
around reasons for challenges,
outcomes, the First Amendment,
and parental involvemen
t.
The last because of DeLucca’s
published opinions.
As the period winds down,
Mr. Wells gives an assignment.
I want you to write a letter
to the school board. I don’t care
which side you come down on,
but address the current book
challenge in this school. Please
write to convince. At least three
full paragraphs, single-spaced,
business letter formatting.
Many of you are in my senior
seminar classes. We’ve already
looked at local government and
how it works, so you understand
that your voices can count. If
you’re not in those classes, you
will be next year, so you’re just
getting an early start. Make your
voice heard, whatever your opinion.
After School
I text Alexa, see if she wants
to get food with me. My appetite
has returned with a vengeance.
She meets me at the truck.
“El Tapatio okay? I’m in the mood
for a massive burrito.”
Whatever you want.
You’re driving.
We are seated, with our order
in—à la carte chicken taco
for her, steak burrito for me—
when she comments,
You’re going to spoil
your dinner.
“This totally is my dinner.
It’s this or dine with my dad
and his girlfriend. I don’t care
how great she cooks. I’m not
going to share their table.”
Oh.
That’s It?
“Oh? Is that all
you’ve got to say?”
She shrugs. It’s not really
any of my business, but . . .
“But what? You can’t leave
me dangling here.”
The food comes just as
she opens her mouth
to say something. Instead,
she takes a bite of taco.
After she swallows,
she ventures, I was just
wondering how long it will
take you to forgive them.
I don’t think forgiveness
is your strongest attribute.
“Maybe you’re right. But why
should I forgive them?”
They’ve flipped me bass-ackwards.