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    Identical

    Page 27
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      be. They say you learn by example. But no one has

      set one for me. I only love one person on this entire

      planet. And he only loves Kaeleigh. My daddy loves

      Kaeleigh. Ian loves Kaeleigh. And she’s incapable

      of loving either of them back. What a waste.

      She only loves Mom. What in

      the hell is wrong with

      her, anyway?

      Then again, I know something about

      our mother that Kaeleigh can’t quite recall, and

      if she did, she’d probably dive off a very tall bridge,

      into shallow water. Stop! Can’t think about that

      now, or I’ll have to join Kaeleigh, jump into

      ultimate freedom. I must admit I have

      considered that leap from time

      to time. But I’m afraid

      to die loveless.

      Afraid to Die Loveless

      Because

      I think if

      you die

      without

      knowing

      love in

      this life,

      that’s how

      you’ll

      spend

      eternity.

      Alone.

      Frozen.

      Do you

      think hell

      is fiery?

      I don’t.

      I think

      hell is

      frozen.

      Before the Other Night

      It was a while since Daddy went

      to Kaeleigh, saturated with misguided

      love and the overwhelming need to

      own her completely. To prove

      he owns her completely. Prove

      it to her. Prove it to himself.

      He can never own me. Maybe

      that’s why he doesn’t bother me.

      I can give myself to whomever

      I please, in any way I damn

      well choose. Key word: choose.

      If I say okay, well then it is.

      I wonder what will happen

      to Daddy when we turn eighteen

      and Kaeleigh can move away.

      I wonder, codependent as she

      seems to be on their sick

      relationship, if she ever will.

      No one will even notice when

      I go. I’d leave now, but if I did,

      Kaeleigh would have no one

      but Ian. And sorry, but the odds

      are long that he’ll hang around.

      Too many easier scores.

      Being Easier

      Isn’t really such a bad thing.

      It can get you what you want.

      Yeah, yeah, I know what

      they call someone who barters

      her body in exchange for

      something she wants. A wife!

      Get it? Okay, never mind.

      But it doesn’t bother me to use

      the one thing I’ve got that’s

      mine, all mine, to get what

      I want. Drugs. Liquor. Fun.

      Not like there’s a whole lot

      of that where I live. More

      drugs. Better drugs. Maybe

      it’s time to graduate from

      pot, hash, and pills to something

      stronger. That opiated stuff

      was great. Wonder what heroin

      is like. I hear it drops you way

      down, where pain can’t find you.

      Any Drugs

      Would be good right this moment.

      Heroin. Cocaine. Maybe ecstasy.

      Not too sure about psychedelics.

      They say acid and ’shrooms

      make you look inside your own head,

      help you learn about yourself.

      Sorry, not interested. I’m afraid

      if I looked inside my head, I’d

      find something really scary.

      Maybe if I walk into town I’ll run

      into some way to score. Ty never

      called back. He’s probably pissed

      ’cause I took so long to call him.

      Or maybe he found someone else,

      although I doubt he fell in love and

      changed his bachelor ways. Way too

      into himself, not the type to move

      in a habitual keeper, love or no love.

      No love to us, I’d still like to see

      Ty. It’s been a long week with

      nothing to smoke. I’ll call him again.

      The Biggest Surprise

      Of the week was not hearing

      a word from or about Mick.

      I expected a call, at the very least,

      telling me what a bitch I am.

      What I really expected was a knock

      on the door from a tan uniform,

      a trip to juvie, and major dishonor

      to Judge Raymond Gardella, not to

      mention his wife, the incoming

      freshman congresswoman. Phew!

      But no. Nada. Nothing. Not a hint

      of a problem. Maybe I should call

      Mick, apologize. Would he forgive

      me? Pick me up? Share a doob?

      I mean, really, it was his fault. Maybe

      that’s why he didn’t make trouble.

      Okay, I’m treading a fantasy—Mick,

      in my control. A shitload of bud. And me.

      But It Isn’t Mick

      Who comes idling up beside me

      at the midtown park where

      I spent the afternoon spying on

      tourists for sheer amusement value.

      No, it isn’t a big 4x4 that stops.

      In fact, it only has two wheels.

      Tuned and well-fed, Ian’s Yamaha

      hums contentedly. Ride?

      I know he can’t have confused me

      with Kaeleigh, who would not

      be happy to know Ian gave me a ride

      home. Like I care. “Sure.”

      He hands me his spare helmet,

      slides forward to make room, and as

      I slide my arms around him, I wonder

      if he might think I’m Kaeleigh after all.

      Nah. He knows her too well.

      Doesn’t he? One way to find out.

      I make my voice all sweet.

      “Take me for a cruise?”

      He pauses, tenses. Definitely

      confused. Then he shakes

      his head. Relaxes a level, but

      not completely. Where to?

      Highway 154

      Takes you all the way

      to Santa Barbara. It winds

      past cattle ranches and Lake

      Cachuma before cresting

      The San Marcos Pass and

      snaking down over the

      mountain. Just as you

      drop, you can turn off on

      the potholed road to Cold

      Spring Tavern. That’s where

      I asked to go. I love it there,

      where history looms large

      in the oak-decked beauty

      of old California. It’s late

      afternoon, and I find myself

      wishing I had a heavier jacket.

      I bury my face into Ian, inhale

      warmth and perfume of leather.

      Something very much like

      contentment threatens my

      equilibrium. Does Kaeleigh

      have a clue what she has here?

      Longing Lunges

      With sudden ferocity.

      What is wrong with me?

      I can’t. Can’t. Won’t. Will I?

      Ian pulls into a narrow

      parking space beside the road.

      Walk with me? He reaches

      for my hand and it dawns

      on me. He does think I’m

      Kaeleigh. How I want to be.

      I should tell him. Have to tell

      him, but my hand, tucked

      neatly into his, is so warm.

      I let it stay there as we work

      our way along a narrow trail.

      S
    o much love, in the palm

      of his hand, folded around mine.

      Oh, Kaeleigh. Don’t you get it?

      Oh, Kaeleigh. To be his!

      I’m not even drunk, not stoned,

      not buzzed on pills. Perfectly

      straight, still I’m reeling.

      I should tell him. Have to tell

      him. But, hidden by forest,

      far from prying eyes,

      he pulls me against him. My

      head falls into his chest and I

      listen to the rhythm of his heart.

      I look up into his eyes,

      find the kind of love there

      I hunger for. Love, not meant

      for me. I vow to absorb it

      anyway, hold on to it as long

      as I can, even if for only a few

      seconds. I want to kiss him.

      Am going to kiss him, though

      I know if I do, he’ll realize

      he’s not kissing Kaeleigh.

      Hey, maybe he’ll fall out

      of love with her, and into

      love with me. So I stand

      on my tiptoes, reach up

      for his lips with my own.

      Yes, Every Kiss Is Different

      And this is a kiss

      like none before, a kiss

      that could overcome the dark

      of deep space night. It’s a falling

      star, flame, ice. It’s pure as water from a snow-fed mountain

      spring. This is what you dream a kiss to be. To have a kiss just

      like this each and every day! How satisfying life would be.

      Oh, Kaeleigh. Never let this man get away.

      Ian is the key to your salvation.

      Ian Moans

      And that ignites a flame just

      below my belly button. This

      is so wrong, but I don’t care.

      Ian is also on fire. But when

      I reach down to touch him

      the way every guy wants,

      he draws back. Wait.

      “Please, Ian? I want you.”

      He shakes his head.

      What’s wrong with you?

      Wrong? Everything’s right.

      I try to kiss him again.

      He pulls away, eyes betraying

      confusion. You’re not Kaeleigh.

      He knows, of course he does.

      I’ll make him want me. I fall to

      my knees in front of him. “Just let me…”

      No! I can’t. This isn’t right.

      He turns, stalks off, down the trail.

      All I can do is follow.

      Ian’s Sense

      Of right and wrong

      overwhelms me. Not

      a single other person

      I know

      possesses such an unshakable

      sense of morality. It’s more

      than unbelievable.

      It’s frightening.

      To offer without strings

      something all men crave,

      and be rejected by him is

      incomprehensible.

      Think I’ll have to kick

      Kaeleigh’s ass. Does she have

      any idea what it means

      to be

      so treasured? He has built

      a pedestal for her so tall

      that she is afraid to be

      lifted

      atop it, because to fall

      would mean certain death.

      But oh, she would rise far, far

      beyond fear

      and be held by arms so strong,

      and love so pure, that falling

      would not be an option.

      Kaeleigh

      Falling

      Is such an unpleasant sensation.

      I’m falling now, down through

      a dark blue opiate sea, and

      I know

      it’s all up to me. Sink or swim?

      I know how to swim, have practiced

      the dead man’s float for years, but

      it’s frightening

      how much I just want to drown

      in this undertow of booze and pills.

      I drank a lot tonight, ingested an

      incomprehensible

      amount of painkillers, some

      borrowed from Daddy, the rest

      pilfered from old Sam, who seems

      to be

      suffering a lot from his arthritis.

      His nightstand is a pharmacy.

      I doubt he even noticed I

      lifted

      a handful of Percodans. Lucky me,

      Daddy had to work this weekend.

      By the time he gets home, I’ll be

      beyond fear

      and well past saving.

      I’m falling now, down,

      down through indigo….

      Tick-Tock

      Through the thickening

      vespers

      the clock on my wall

      whispers.

      Tick-tick. Tock-tock.

      Intones

      the passage of time.

      Drones.

      Inhale. Everything

      slows.

      Exhale. The exchange

      shallows.

      Heartbeats mimic,

      tick-tick.

      Become erratic, stutter,

      t-t-tock.

      Through the indigo.

      Down.

      Gradual motion.

      I drown.

      A Voice

      Echoes inside my brain.

      A little girl’s voice.

      Get up. When you fall

      down, you gotta get up.

      It’s Raeanne, and I am with

      her on the playground.

      Get up, Kaeleigh, or I’m

      gonna be mad at you.

      I am lying beside the merry-

      go-round, head spinning.

      I hate when you be a baby.

      Oooh. Lookie. You’re bleeding.

      Scarlet oozes from a slice

      on one skinned knee.

      Stop crying! I hate when

      you cry. Mommy! Mom…

      Now her voice changes,

      hardens, sedimentary stone.

      Stop whining, Kaeleigh, or I’ll

      have to kick your ass.

      She sounds like me. Looks

      like me. Identical.

      Goddammit. I’m going for help.

      I’ll kick your ass later.

      Another Voice

      Trails the slam of a door. Door?

      Down here? How can a door slam

      in so much water? So much deep,

      dark ocean? Hello? Anyone home?

      Obnoxious. Intrusive. A lifeline.

      Footsteps. Twenty to his bed. Twelve

      to mine. I don’t want to count them.

      Can’t help it. One, two. Doesn’t matter.

      Three, four. Can’t get me here.

      Five, six. Quick! Hide! Seven, eight.

      To hide I have to swim. Nine, ten. No

      way to swim but up. Eleven, twelve.

      The feet stop moving, and even this far

      underwater, I hear a door snitch open.

      Kaeleigh? Kaeleigh! What have you done?

      Up through the indigo, I am lifted. Wake

      up, Kaeleigh. Come back to me right now!

      Sharp strikes against my cheeks.

      Sudden tears. My eyes want to float open.

      But I won’t let them. Won’t see him.

      I Fall Again

      This time, I land in a soft swirl

      of lavender, like the ocean at sunset

      just after downpour. Beautiful.

      Can I stay here? Forever? Lapping

      against the beach, playing with

      the sand. Frothing against the shore.

      Footsteps again. They slap tile.

      Running away from me.

      Good-bye feet. Good-bye.

      I am sinking. I can end it here.

      But if I’m going to drown, I have

      to go fast. Before the feet come back.


      I Let Out All My Breath

      Concentrate on sinking

      deeper and deeper and…

      oh, but what’s poised below?

      What monsters of the deep

      might decide to chew on me?

      Will it hurt, the final release?

      Is there pain when the spirit

      pries itself free of the flesh?

      Why worry about that now?

      I can feel the excavation, and

      it’s painless so far. My lungs

      fill with water. Silt. Mud. Now

      it hurts to breathe. So I won’t.

      I’ll settle deep into darkness.

      And I won’t say good-bye.

      Damn Footsteps

      Won’t let me sleep. And voices.

      One belongs to Daddy.

      Oh my God. Her face is blue.

      The other belongs to a woman. Mom?

      No, not Mom. Softer. Younger.

      Kaeleigh, wake up now.

      Melodic. Angelic. Angel?

      That means I’m…

     


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