your boyfriend/girlfriend,
I watched.
While you snuck
out from your house,
I was there.
While you picked up
a donut and licked
the sweet goodness off
your fingers,
I was one step behind you.
Watching,
Always watching.
I watch,
I speculate,
I judge,
I am the outsider
I am the watcher
I am the one to fear.
Born Without a Heart
On February 15, 1981, Jo Anne Willis was born without a heart. The baby was whisked away without the precious touch of her mother. Tears filled the mother’s eyes as she held a hand over her mouth to cover the sniffle. Her own mother grabbed her hand, coloring it from a sickly white into a bursting tomato red. The doctor came back, words floating across the room. Empty, medical terminology words. Neither she nor her mother could remove the confusion off their faces. Before they knew it, they were in their car, their facial expressions unchanged.
“NICU,” the new grandmother, Jehona, said out loud. The word weighed heavily in the air. “What the hell is that?”
The mother, Joëlle, just stared out of the window, the traffic swiftly passing them without notice or care. The tears grazed her cheek but she wiped them before they could caress her neck.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Jehona said, clutching the wheel, “We are going to stop by every single day until she is home.” She paused then added with a sigh, “Where she belongs.”
The mother nodded and jerked up when her pager buzzed. Her ex-husband’s number lit up the small screen. She gripped the pager tight between her fingers.
The grandmother sighed. “Are you going to answer that?”
Joëlle’s lips thinned at the mere thought of lying to the one man she loved more than life itself. At least a long time ago she did. Now everything has changed.
When they pulled up to the house, pink balloons were taped on the mailbox; Joëlle noticed them absently. What grabbed her attention was the glowing happiness of her new boyfriend’s brilliant smile standing next to her father who held a cigar. The grandmother turned off the engine and turned to her.
“You don’t have to go in there and explain it to them. Let me do it.”
Joëlle nodded.
* * *
I drove extra slow by her house this time. I didn’t want to intrude on their “happy” day. My laugh came out sour as the new mother walked out onto the lawn, the glazed look pasted on her face, her arms empty of the child I knew she birthed. I stopped the car and pulled up into the neighborhood’s driveway.
“Where is my child?” I asked, marching up to her.
She didn’t open her mouth, just stood there.
“Did you not hear me? Where. Is. My. Child?!” I clipped out.
“You stupid son of a bitch!” The new boyfriend shoved me across the yard.
I turned to her and smiled. “This is him? This is who you left me for?”
Jehona stood up to me, her small fists on her waist. “You’ve done enough damage to my daughter, now leave.”
“I will not leave until I see my daughter.”
Jehona sighed, but Joëlle patted her arm and said, “Let me deal with this.”
I crossed my arms, waiting for her to explain what the hell was going on.
“My daughter died. She was born without a heart, and they weren’t able to save her.”
My breath left my lungs, the world went spinning around me as I bent over trying to catch my breath. The grass blurred in my vision. “When?”
“Just this morning,” Jehona whispered. “She was pronounced dead at 9:53 am.”
“You lie!” I shouted. “You’re all lying to keep me away from my daughter!”
“Do you think I would lie about something so terrible?” She cried, then added, “Look at my face. You’ve known me for practically all my life. Does it look like I’m lying?”
I looked at her face, knowing her expression with my eyes closed, those beautiful high cheek bones, to that upturned nose gracefully handed to her from her mother gene pool. Those piercing sad blues eyes looked right into mine and I knew it right then. What she said was true. I stumbled back into my car and drove away. Never to return. Never would I want to look at her face again. Never did I want to look into those eyes and know what a true crime meant to my heart. I leaned my head against the steering wheel. A sob escaped my throat but then I bit it back. Never.
This Moment
Dog pants with ridiculous toothy grin
Mom smiles
Wish this moment could last a little while
White ball of fluff zips around the corner
We go chasing him, but can never catch him
He’s just as swift as lightening
Mom sighs, puts her feet on the bed
My siblings and I talk her ear off
She calls us precious and sweety,
trying not to be too blunt about leaving her alone
When we finally do, the t.v. whines on and we hear her laugh
Filling the house up with sound and warmth
God only knows how long I wish this moment could last.
But time twinkles away, and disappears into a lasting memory.
Bud
Sprout
from sprout till blossom
open, flourish petal
let the sunbeams grace
the petals
gently becoming
breaking
budding
opening
from bud to blossom
this is the beginning
of the end.
Crash and Burn
Rose feet were frozen at the spot. The car’s engine revved, the driver gunning for road kill alá Rose, and yet she still couldn’t move. Her feet refused to obey the frantic signal of movement from her brain. Then before she knew it, her face was eating pavement, and Nik was suddenly shielding her with his body. The car sped by with the figments of yellow and purple, blurring the paint of movement. Rose and Nik looked at each other, both mirroring a frown, then Rose coughed and Nik moved off her.
“Why didn’t you move?” Nik asked, dusting himself off.
“It’s called shock,” Rose said, then sighed. “Didn’t you think I wanted to move?”
“Yet you stood there like an idiot, waiting for that guy to run you over. Did you actually think he would stop?”
“No,” Rose whispered. “Thanks by the way.”
Nik nodded and trudged off to the beach. Rose grabbed her bag and was right behind him, her flip flops making a loud snapping noise. When the ocean greeted their eyes, they both stopped mid way. It brought back memories it shouldn’t have. The waves, the beach, the grinding sand, laughter suddenly stopped, cut off in a single moment of change. Rose sighed and picked a spot on the beach. She opened up the beach umbrella she had found in her beach house shed and sat down under it.
Nik looked at her, comfortably sitting in the sand with, of course, a book in her hand, summer reading for the honors class at Vathory High. He knew he should be doing the same thing, but the moment, that memory, a dream, a fantasy suddenly turning into a reality couldn’t stop haunting him. He had to know.
“Rose?” Nik said.
Rose refused to turn around, knowing that hitch his in voice. “What?”
“Won’t you even look at me?”
Rose turned around and added a raised eyebrow. “Are you happy now?”
“What is that suppose to mean?”
“Never mind. I don’t want to fight.”
Nik sat down next her. “Neither do I but what happened yesterday—”
“Was a mistake.” Rose slapped her book closed. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“So you accidentally kissed me?”
Rose looked at him and then turned back her gaze to the ocean. �
��No, I just didn’t . . . I didn’t know . . . I just did it okay? Can we please drop it and remain best buds like we were before this ever happened?”
“I wish I could, Rose. More then you know.” Nik paused. “But everything has changed. We can’t go back.”
Rose turned away from him letting the sentence hanging in the air. She slid her sunglasses on and stared into the slowly setting sun. Nik looked down at the book laying between them, The Scarlet Letter. He turned away and instead enjoyed the view of the sand, the beach, the sea and the sky touching in a sweet embrace.
Sideways Glance
Sideways glance
take it back
and a blush
creeps along your cheek
Innocent
and meek
accidental
drop of the pencil
sideways glance
this is the key to start
a hot and heavy romance
Your friends call it
puppy love
but you know better . . .
Your sideways glace
always does the trick
You slip under his desk
your eyes connect
his beautiful eyes
warm into yours.
You straighten up your skirt,
giving it a good
get the guy’s attention
tug and giggle.
He doesn’t return the favor.
Instead he watches you saunter
walk
glide
right back into your seat.
You give another
sideways glance
and you miss the mark.
The geek in row five
winks back.
You slide deep in your chair
and give one last
sideways glance
and end up with a
flirtatious glance.
from your one time
puppy love
and you finally
open your mouth
and say,
“Hello.”
You knew your romance
stood a chance.
Forget
Jia woke up and looked at the crystal ball sparkling in the morning glow seeping through the gauzy white curtains. She knew she should have thrown the stupid thing away, but it kept whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Darn crystal ball.
A knock echoed across her pink little pony room.
“Yes?”
“Breakfast is ready,” Mother said, her voice muffled.
“I’ll be down in a sec.”
As her mother’s flat feet stomped down the small steps, Jia slipped on some flannel pants and a Hello Kitty t-shirt. When Jia walked down the glossy laminate wood floors, silence answered her from the kitchen. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled in psychic wonder and yet intuition failed her.
The television.
Jia walked up to it and put her ear to it.
“It’s broken,” a voice whispered.
Jia whipped around. Nobody was there. She frowned and pushed the on button. He was right though; it didn’t work.
“We’re in here, Jia,” her mother said in her usual sing song voice. Within minutes, Jia found her.
Her face froze. “What happened?”
Jia shrugged. “Nothing.” She put on a weak smile. Her face muscles tensed in effort of putting on a happy face. Literally. “Breakfast smells great.” She grabbed some pancakes and some boiled eggs. She heard padded feet coming closer to the kitchen. Jia didn’t even have to look up to know who it was: Tojo.
Her silky black hair caught in two tight pig tails bobbed up and down as she grabbed the plate with her pail little hands. “Where’s Daddy?”
Jia and her mother looked at the head of the table, the chair covered in a thin layer of dust. Mom mumbled, “He’s on a business trip.”
Tojo looked from Jia to mother then sat at the table and nibbled on her pancakes. She took a deep breath and filled in the silence with her endless chatter. Jia didn’t hear any of it, her voice sounding like one big, high-pitched blur. She kept looking at her younger sister, with her high cheeks and big eyes, which made her yearn for the younger years. Where everything was simple and yet so important at the same time.
Except for her own childhood. Nothing seemed to have changed since her father died three years ago. The emotions came rushing back as the vision laid before her with such stunning clarity. She knew he would die on December 23, 2004, yet there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. The vision was clear, and fate was already decided. He had to die.
She tried to suppress the memory but it flooded back. Her mother’s pale face. She shook her head. Jia screaming at her mother to listen to her, that it was the truth. She failed to listen. It happened. He died. At the funeral, her mother slapped her and called her a demon. Everything fled into darkness. Everlasting darkness.
Jia looked up at the food then walked away from the table. Her mother watched her walk away. Her food cooling on the plastic plate. Jia slammed the door shut and curled herself into a ball, willing herself to forget, to always forget. Forget. Forget. Forget . . .
WSV #4
pencils
pens
writing
utensils
down
window
look
bunny
“Pay attention!”
trapped
forlorn
texting
whispering
throwing
food
money
grumble
hallways
snack machines
healthy?
$1.00
gum?
flashback
$ 0.20
gum
fall forward
teasing
kissing
crushing
lockers
slobber mouth
stare
open mouth
scarred for life
fancy hand shakes
gossip
talking
code names
hide
pretend
eyes open
mind closed
learn
you must learn
why?
fly
high
skateboards
guitar sounds
strum
play
enter back
lunch
crowd
mob
runs
volume
raises
snuck
smoke
inhale
cough
“Just relax,
you’ll like it!”
All lies.
lungs
mind
lost
completely lost
rush
bell rings
eyes closed
head
desk
filthy words
etched
sketched
polluted
scratched
boredom
sexual references
graffiti
bathroom
gross
disgusting
janitors?
phone numbers
sexual references
drug references
hoe
whore
sux dick
“Puff the magic dragon”
etched forever
bathroom stall
smoke
weed
pot
cigarettes
bad girls
bad guys
hold breath
in class
safe!
“It’s a jungle out there!”
eyes open
mind open
miracle happens!
learn
study
open
book
teaching
nice
bell rings its final toll
shouts
shoves
runs
bus
gone
left
behind
sigh
repeat until done
words speak volumes.
Changes
The walk down the hallway seems to take forever, but he knows that it only took seconds to navigate from his locker to the cafeteria. That’s when it happens.
Bam.
The lights flicker out. The sound of flesh colliding with metal echoes down the narrow strip of pavement and dry wall. He looks up to greet his attacker with a harsh glare, but all of his gumption flies out of the window once his attacker is indentified: Clarence Bartholomew.
What a sissy and inappropriate name for a guy who has already brushed up against the six feet mark at the young age of thirteen. To say he’s a sasquatch is being considerate. He’s a bulk of meat and flesh that stomps around and lurks the hallway with a stunningly hard face to match his weight. Clarence is the one guy he fears. He is currently standing over him, begging him for a smart comment, an excuse to crush him in front of everybody he cares about.
He doesn’t say a damn word.
Instead, he slings his knapsack over his shoulder and walks into the cafeteria where the rush of noise greets his ear like an alarmingly tidal wave.
One of the teachers throws him a spoonful of pity in a steaming bowl of no help at all.
His best bud though, Juice, doesn’t even deem to look at him but just stares into space. He was probably wishing he had a friend who could actually stand up for himself. At least, Georgia, who is one table in front of him, stares right at him right in the eye. The toughest tom boy yet un-tom girl in the whole class. She didn’t give a crap or even gives him the pity that is his due. Instead she stares so boldly that it leads him to question why.
He leans over the table, putting his head in his hands, willing the bell to start, to tell him that normal life would begin in the noisy yet pleasantly full cafeteria and to end the stare-athon that is occurring, that is making him want to scratch his own eyeball out. But none of that happens. He turns to look at her, access her reason of why she stares at him so.
“What is it, G?” he asks.
Georgia at first doesn’t respond to him, but she does blink. A slow lavish almost wink that makes him wish that she wasn’t starring at him for the scene in the hallways but for a much different reason.
“Nothing. I’m staring at nothing.” Georgia turns her gaze to another victim: Tom Gatherday. He stood there shivering in his seat, his arms wrapped around him so close and tight they stretched like rubber bands. He followed her gaze and shrugged. Tom was always cold.
Georgia managed to access the whole cafeteria with her penetrating blue eyes before smiling and greeting her friends. More like cohorts, he thinks, grabbing his lunch box from his knapsack. His eyes dart around the room, hoping the crowd will surround him and make him blend into the shield he has always hoped for. He flips his lid quickly and grabs a whole chunk of meat out of his lunchbox. In one quick second the meat is gone. The guilty pleasure warming his fingers and toes but only for a minute before the ice covers him once again. There, right there. He felt it again.