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    Capricious

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      To support this experiment

      To entertain myself

      Throbs in my brain

      Every person I care about

      Floats before my eyes

      Like a video game

      Played by God and me.

      He smites them. I hurt them.

      The points add up.

      Smite. Michael dies.

      Hurt. Samir cries.

      Smite. Kayli’s lungs.

      Hurt. David’s trust.

      Smite. Marika’s brain.

      Hurt. Puffy’s portrait.

      Smite. Charlotte dies.

      Hurt. Mom believes my lies.

      Smite. We lose baby Gabriel.

      Hurt. I try to seduce one of Dad’s students.

      And all the people I just want to hurt.

      I’m jealous of Kayli

      I hate Genie for what she did

      I hate all those car-wash girls

      And school, and teachers and principals

      And those bitches in junior high

      And Samir’s family and God

      And the one I hate the most of all:

      Me.

      Chapter Ten

      Indiscreet

      REASON

      Sometimes

      When people speak

      To me of God my eyes

      Fill with tears of loss.

      As though they are talking

      About some kid who died young

      From drugs or guns.

      As though someone I loved

      Who I once thought loved me too

      Was an illusion.

      How can I mourn him

      The imaginary friend

      Who was never real?

      MOM’S BATHROOM

      Last Christmas

      I found her in here

      Unconscious

      In a puddle of blood

      And vomit

      That’s not something

      You easily forget.

      The white tiles shine

      No evidence is left

      I scrubbed this floor

      Until my fingers ached

      And stung from bleach

      But the image remains

      Like permanent marker

      Scrawled graffiti

      In my brain.

      Tucked behind her closet

      It has no windows

      And if I close the door

      I can imagine I’m

      Flying through space

      Alone past the heliopause

      Outside the influence

      Of the sun, somewhere

      Not even comets live.

      WHEN KAYLI IS HERSELF

      A warm hand rests on my shoulder

      And for an ecstatic moment I think

      I left the mudroom door unlocked

      And Samir has silently crawled in

      With me

      But it’s not Samir, the thin wrist wears

      A hospital bracelet and has pink painted nails.

      Kayli’s long lashes rest on shining cheeks

      It’s hot up here, she says without opening

      Her eyes

      I slip my arms around her and squeeze

      Until she calls me an incestuous lesbian

      But she squeezes back, smelling rank

      And medicinal. She’s sweaty too—we both

      Are

      I wouldn’t believe the sun rose again

      The world kept turning and orbiting

      As though today was just another day but

      Above the open skylight the sky is glowing

      Blue

      Like nothing dreadful happened last night

      Wheezing, Kayli leans back and thoughtfully

      Considers the state of my unplucked eyebrows

      Where’s Samir? is just the first of her

      Questions.

      SISTERLY ADVICE

      You should tell Mom

      Is what Kayli says

      After I have confessed

      Almost everything

      About Samir and David.

      (I don’t mention the car wash.

      She can’t know about that.

      The official story is still that it was “great fun.”)

      Poor David

      She says about Michael

      Were you sleeping with him too?

      I shake my head and suffer

      As Kayli’s questions get

      More and more

      Indiscreet.

      She always could

      Make me reveal anything

      She wants to know

      Everything.

      I spew out monotone

      Salacious details

      And sad ones

      While she listens

      Entranced.

      I keep talking

      I don’t want to stop

      I want her to listen

      Forever

      To never leave this room

      To never leave me

      Because she is

      My best friend

      Maybe the only friend

      I have left.

      NEWSFLASH

      What happened with Parker?

      I ask when I run out of my own tragedy

      He mutated, Kayli says

      And I wait for the rest of the story.

      Don’t tell Mom, okay?

      We made this plan to sneak away

      And, you know, do it

      But I changed my mind

      And he got all pissy.

      Then he said I was a slut

      Which is, HELLO, illogical

      But everyone believed it.

      What an asshole!

      I thought he was supposed to be a Christian

      Newsflash, Rah Rah

      Christians can be douchebags.

      And she stares at my slanted ceiling

      Tears dripping into her ears

      Reminding me

      She’s human too.

      LIFE GOES ON

      Marika barely waits for her mother to leave

      Before typing quickly

      What

      Is

      W r o n g?

      David’s brother died of an overdose, I say

      And she doesn’t even spell out

      A strong specific word

      She just hits a button

      Bad

      Bad

      Bad

      And then

      Sorry.

      What

      Happened?

      And so I

      Tell her the whole

      Sordid story too

      Like I can’t keep the words inside

      How I used them both

      And betrayed them

      For no good reason.

      She falls silent

      Not her good silence

      But a reproachful

      Judgmental one

      And we spend the day like that

      Me wondering

      If I’ve lost her too.

      TEXTS TO SAMIR

      Talk to me.

      Forgive me.

      My mind isn’t right. I AM crazy.

      I love you. Please answer me.

      I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I lost control of my life.

      I’m so sorry.

      Until finally Marika grabs my phone from my hand.

      She’s surprisingly fast at texting.

      This is Marika. Ella has been crying all day. It’s getting

      annoying. Pls reply.

      To which Samir texts back:

      Will call 2night. Late.

      ON THE OTHER HAND

      All texts to David

      Are revised, then deleted

      And nothing is sent.

      EPIC

      Marika bends her head

      Over her iPad typing

      Ignoring me

      My feet get numb

      In the kiddy pool

      Marika made it clear

      I

      Don’t

      Want

      To

      Swim

      Which is how I know

      She’s really mad at me

      Norma
    lly she loves it.

      Marika types

      And children stare

      And fretful mothers

      Pull them away

      Shielding them

      From their own rudeness

      As though it’s a disease.

      Marika frowns with concentration

      Her tanned fingers thrumming

      And I suspect her composition

      Might be aimed at me.

      MARIKA’S WISDOM

      I used to throw tantrums

      When I was little

      It was torture

      Learning to speak

      And Mom would say:

      “You have to name your pain.”

      Name your pain, Ella.

      Mom would say:

      “It’s easier to run from a lion

      Than some shadow in the dark.”

      I’m not mad at you.

      If you can’t talk to me,

      Talk to someone.

      Please.

      CROSSHAIRS

      Now I feel like

      I am walking around

      With rifle crosshairs

      On the entire world

      Well maybe not a rifle

      It’s not that I want

      To shoot someone

      Apart from myself

      Occasionally

      Only now I look at Mom

      And Kayli painting her toenails

      Ms. Sagal and Dad

      And ask myself

      Is this the person I can talk to?

      But I have an excuse for each of them

      I have caused them enough pain

      Or they have their own problems

      Or maybe I’m scared of

      How bad I would feel

      If they can’t hide the fact

      That they don’t really care.

      PENCIL

      It’s painstaking work

      Carefully rendering

      In lethally sharp pencil

      Every detail

      Of Marika’s speech app

      With her gnarled hand

      Curled finger pressing on the word

      BAD

      In the corner

      Barely visible

      A tendril of black

      Lace.

      EGGS AND OTHER ROUND OBJECTS

      To my surprise

      Sarah emails

      We’re going to Michael’s funeral

      Mom thought you might like to come

      I know how weird it can be

      In an unfamiliar place

      I was freaking out at Genie’s mom’s funeral

      All those creepy flowers.

      Have you spoken to David?

      He won’t answer his phone

      Or return my texts

      I guess we’ll see him there

      I hope he’s okay

      The service is at six tomorrow

      We’ll pick you up at five

      After we can go to his house

      And do the shiva thing

      Mom can explain it

      I’ll grab you something on the way

      From the kosher deli, egg salad

      Or bagels, something round

      Did you know Michael very well?

      I went to his bar mitzvah.

      What a messed-up world.

      THE END

      Samir calls

      As promised

      Close to midnight.

      We cry

      And he says

      I can’t do this anymore.

      He adds

      We can’t stay

      Friends. That’s bullshit.

      You

      Are not

      A good friend.

      My heart is

      Torn in pieces

      My soul is corrupted

      You

      Did this

      You ruined me.

      I listen

      To his rage

      His heartbreak and

      I do

      Not dare

      To disagree.

      MIDNIGHT

      As quietly as I can

      I slip my bicycle

      Out the garage side door.

      No helmet

      The night wind blows

      My wrinkled cotton dress

      Around my knees

      I stay on the sidewalk

      For safety. I want to arrive

      At my destination alive

      The address from research papers

      In Dad’s study.

      Ella?

      Kieran says

      What are you doing here?

      Wanna go for a walk?

      I say

      We tuck my bike

      In his hallway

      And head out

      Into the dark.

      Kieran lights a joint

      And we pass it back and forth

      As we walk around the lake

      Better?

      He says

      Flicking the butt into the water.

      You seemed a little tense before

      I heard about your boyfriend’s brother

      That’s too bad.

      He’s not my boyfriend

      I say

      Yeah, says Kieran

      Does he know that?

      WHAT DOES HE KNOW?

      All I’ve ever done is toy with David

      Like a cat with a crippled mouse.

      All I’ve done is evade questions

      I’ve avoided moments where

      Feelings are discussed

      Focused on other things

      Myself mainly

      My anxieties

      My stupid plan

      My selfishness.

      My shame

      Makes me stumble

      I sit on the curb.

      Whoa, are you okay?

      Kieran asks

      Not really, I say.

      I search his face

      Hoping maybe he’s the one

      Who will listen to the whole

      Sad and sorry tale

      And tell me what to do

      But undergrad degree or no

      He’s just a stoned boy

      Looking down my dress

      And I don’t even like him.

      Though I let him kiss me

      Later in his front hall

      His smoky sour tongue

      Flops in my mouth

      Like a rancid fish

      I’d gag if I could be bothered.

      And when I put a stop to it

      He holds the door

      While I push my bicycle out

      And doesn’t say, “I’ll call you”

      Or any other platitude

      For that anyway

      I’m grateful.

      And more I suppose

      Because he’s shown me

      Something important

      About me

      That I didn’t know I knew.

      This:

      At least I don’t hate myself enough

      To have sex with a guy like him.

      INVISIBLE

      The on-ramp is quiet

      But for occasional trucks

      Rumbling like distant thunder

      The gas station emits

      Weak and sickly

      Zombie light

      I lock my bike

      And turn down into the dark

      Staring at the spot

      The hidey-hole between

      Two Dumpsters wondering

      What magnet held me there

      I would like to shake that girl

      And ask her why it matters

      Why she cared so much

      She waited in the dark

      For something to happen

      Almost as if she wanted it

      To be broken down beaten

      Left for dead but no one even

      Noticed she was there.

      MOONLIGHT

      By the time

      I reach the deep scrub

      My bare legs feel flayed.

      I’d raise my head

      And howl at the moon

      But I don’t need to.

      She appears

    &nb
    sp; Damp fur and coiled muscles

      Ready to flee

      To leap back into her dark

      Primitive past.

      I would like to think

      She was drawn by our moonlight bond

      But it’s more likely the hotdog

      I’ve placed on the ground between us.

      I’ve been thinking about you, I say

      She snuffles as she gobbles my gift.

      Ignoring me

      I swear I think

      She even rolls her eyes.

      How do you tolerate all this?

      I ask, looking around

      At the highway, the on-ramp

      The gas station

      The Dumpsters

      The truckers, the taxi drivers

      Unbuckling.

      How do you stay you?

      How do you not lie down

      On the road and let a truck

      Crush the wild out of you?

      Surely you of all creatures

      Must be weighed down

      By the hypocrisy

      The betrayal of a God

      Who gave you a perfect world

      Then populated it with

      Imperfection

      Personified

      Who plowed and

      Paved your

      Paradise.

      She licks ketchup from her maw

      Yellow teeth, pink gums

      And stares back

      Low growling

      All coyote, she has

      Nothing to say to my

      Irrelevance

      But her tail disappearing

      In the long grass.

      Tell me what to do!

      I call after her

      At first only the cool

      Night wind

      Replies.

      But then

      From the dark

      She howls

      Twice as though

      Begrudgingly

      She’s giving me

      Her best advice.

      TORN

      The synagogue is packed

      Sarah and I stand at the back.

      Apparently David has hardly said a word

      To anyone since it happened,

      Sarah whispers

      As the rabbi says things in Hebrew

      And English things that are meant

      To console.

      In the front row David

      Towers above his mother

      Even with slumped shoulders

      His head hanging down.

      His lawyer father

      Stands gray wool and stiff

      On the other side.

      No one for him to

      Prosecute here but God

      And I’m surprised to find

      I can forgive him for

      The near ruination he inflicted

      On me and Samir last year

      I wonder if this is God’s punishment

      For his self-serving hubris.

      The thought makes my heart

      Flicker like a faulty light

      One of those ones that

      Makes the whole string fail

     


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