Audacious (4 page)
I only nod.
Are you religious?
Catholic, I tell my coffee cup.
He asks me what I'm not allowed to do.
I begin to enumerate the Commandments:
Steal, covet, bear false witnessâ¦
He interrupts.
What are Catholics especially not allowed to do?
Mostly sex stuff, I say
Then blush and blush.
He chuckles.
No, you know, playingwithyourself
Hmmm.
No birth control.
Really? None?
No abortion.
Of course.
No execution.
How often does one have the opportunity�
Catholics don't condone execution
By anyone,
For any reason,
Ever.
Oh. Homosexuality?
Obviously not.
What about food?
No rules really, not anymore.
We eat fish on Friday but it's not compulsory.
Alcohol? Gambling?
Yes, please, we're Irish.
He chuckles again.
He has a nice chuckle.
What about you? I say
What aren't you allowed to do?
Don't get me started,
he says.
I stir my coffee.
Pork, alcohol, carnivorous animals.
What? No tiger burgers?
No. No insects or reptiles.
Yuck.
No dogs.
Who would eat a dog?
No OWNING dogs. They are unclean.
Really? What about cats?
Cats are fine. To own, not to eat.
Phew.
No mind-altering drugs.
That's a pity.
Pretty much all the same sex stuff.
I thought as much.
But contraception is okay in marriage I think.
Oh? That's much more sensible.
No usury
.
What's that?
No idea. Something to do with lending money.
I never have any so it wouldn't matter.
No drawing pictures of people or animals.
What! Why?
It's like trying to create life.
Like playing God?
He shrugs.
Is that why you drew the mandala?
Why did YOU draw one?
I remind him primly that I explained it in class.
He looks like he doesn't believe me.
Anything else? I say.
No gambling.
His eyes fall, black lashes like prison bars
That's why my sister was yelling,
he says.
She found a lottery ticket I bought.
All I hear at first is “sister.”
Eventually I can speak again.
Did you win?
No.
Why did you buy the ticket if it's forbidden?
He looks up through the prison bars.
I need money. I want to buy a dog,
he says
And chuckles.
SNOWFLAKES
Falling so softly,
like thieves in the frozen night.
They steal the city.
FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE: PART ONE
Dad drives us to school
Because somewhere in the mental chaos
Of unemployment
Mom forgot all about snow boots.
The Range Rover plows through drifts
Like desert sand
Like jungle scrub
Like rugged mountain streams
Just like in the ads.
But they never use snow in the ads
It's far too suburban.
Dad gives random academic advice
Kind of a demented morning pep talk
To Kayli:
Just think of fractions like half-price sales.
Mention the Bolsheviks. That makes them crazy.
No, it's kingdom, then phylum, THEN classâ¦
Because Bilbo is an atypical hero who doesn't wantâ¦
She escapes into the snow
A Siberian refugee
Into the arms of St. Mary.
While we plow on to the public school
He's more subdued.
Any classes you like?
Art.
Any teachers
?
Ms. Sagal.
Any teachers you don't like?
Librarian's a total despot.
Is there such a thing as a partial despot?
I snort, with what I hope is derision.
The unasked question, which remains unaskedâ
Any friends, Raphaelle?
âis also left unanswered.
WATERCOLORS
Halfway through art I sneak a glance
Samir is looking back at me.
Without speaking he lifts up his page
And shows me a watercolor coffee cup
Overflowing with whip
And chocolate
I say nothing
I just lift up my page
And show him
A watercolor dog.
RENT-A-GEEK
Puffy and Freckle have an entourage
frnds 4evr
Each member has a role.
The homework helper:
A plain girl in expensive clothes.
The project:
A pretty girl in shabby clothes
I want to throw a hardback copy of
Emma
at her head.
The drug supplier:
A sk8r dude
Pretty sure he's got nothing stronger than pot
Maybe coke.
The narcissistant:
Who helps them feel beautiful
u r so hot. no u r!
She's pretty but not as pretty as them.
The chauffeur:
A chubby, effeminate guy
With an incongruously masculine car
Bought for him no doubt
By a father who is worried his son is gay.
I realize today
A spot might have opened up
4 me.
The rent-a-geek:
Who fixes their pink laptops
When they won't play MP3s.
Or download reality TV.
Their old rent-a-geek got a bespectacled college boyfriend
They met at a comic shop (really!)
And she has no time anymore
For Puffy and Freckle.
They watch me with my MacBook
And helping Ms. Sagal load the PowerPoint
The one about Leonardo Da Vinci.
OMFG!
I can't help laughing actually
If they offer me the “role”
And I take it
About all the fun I could have
Messing with their hard drives.
I wonder whether they will
Or I will.
IT'S FUN TO BE FORBIDDEN
I'm not a Muslim
I have pierced ears
I ate bacon for breakfast
I drew a smiley face on my hand
I pluck my eyebrows
I sing and danceânot always in private
I drank one of Dad's beers last night
My wrists are showing
Even my name is forbidden
(
Some think it blasphemous
To give a child an angel's name
Especially a woman
, Samir says, tightly)
And I'm sitting in a coffee shop
With an unrelated boy.
GOOD WORKS
Mom has been volunteering
At a place called Marion House
A homeless shelter.
I see the worry in her eyes
When the snow swirls in the yard at night
It's so cold
, she says,
I hope they have enough beds.
She bakes
And sneaks Dad's older sweaters into boxes
With socks bought on sale, in bulk
At the Army & Navy store.
She tells me about an old woman
Who calls herself The Phantom
Who has only one eye
Who gets ejected from the rec room
For swearing
It's the Lord's work
She says at dinner, not eating
Just stirring potatoes round and round
Jesus Himself would have loved these women
And made them disciples.
I try not to laugh
As a comic book opens in my mind
Jesus Christ and the One-Eyed Phantom.
The movie version
Will be rated R
For Coarse Language.
FACES
In art we do portraits
In pairs
I sketch Puffy Blond
And make her look fatter than she is
She sketches me
Badly
Froglike
Maybe you really look like a frog,
she counters
Freckle Arms sketches Samir
Like a WANTED poster
Intense stare
Emotionless
Even though he was laughing the whole time
About my drawing of Puffy Blond
Ms. Sagal starts to say
It's okay
Sam
if
But he snatches up the pencil and paper
And someone appears on the page
Not freckled
But beautiful.
Soft and expressive
With a light in the eyes
That I recognize
As me.
CHANGES
We weren't always like this
My family
We were “moderate”
My sister was at fashion school
Then it happened
I know what he means
The planes
The TV
The war
My mother was chased from a drugstore
My father lost customers
He owns a landscaping company
And a fleet of snow plows
I have seen his trucks.
My sister married a conservative man
And took up the veil
And gave up school
And turned her eye on me
She changed my clothes
And my mind changed with them
I have heard the teasing,
The whispers about the long-sleeved shirts
And long pants
Even in gym.
Every cruel word makes me feel closer to her
To my culture
My history
My people
My God.
So now you are conservative too?
His fist rests on the table
Millimeters from mine.
Unclenching
He raises one finger
And closes the circuit between us.
I don't know what I am
Electricity flows
Fingertip to fingertip
I
       know
                   how
                               he
                                           feels.
DETAILS
I try to memorize him
In that moment
His black hair
Close-cropped and wavy
His dark eyes
Like pools of strong coffee
The faint shadow
On his upper lip.
His lips
My God, his lips
The way they press together
Tense and troubled.
His hands
With a little ink stain
On the second finger
On the left
(He's left-handed too!)
His clothes
Long-sleeved shirt, buttoned all the way up
Sensible jeans
That don't hang off his ass
(I HATE that)
I carry him home with me
When we part
Awkwardly
His memory is a work of art
That only I can see.
THE TOOTHBRUSH I FOUND IN
MOM'S PURSE
Toxic
Odorous
Oh my God
Tedium
Has
Become
Regurgitation
Undoing
Shaming
Her
Totally gross, I know
Only that's how we found out last time
One toothbrush
Tucked into the lining of
Her purse in a plastic
Bag. The smell was unmistakable
Right then Dad confronted her
Uprooting her
Secrets and lies
How do I do the same?
THE VIRUS
Freckle got a nasty virus
Not that kind
Although I wouldn't be surprised.
My antivirus expired
I don't know how to fix it
I suck at things like that
All this delivered with a sweet smile
A tilted head
Like she never called me “elephant.”
It won't boot up properly
Everything is super unstable
I can't even Skype
I accept the proffered pink laptop
And set about examining
The inner workings.
I'm SOOO grateful for this
I'd just DIE without “Pinky”
Can you fix her?
I think so, I say cautiously,
Taking care to look her in the eye when I ask for
Her passwords.
She surrenders them innocently
Then she and Puffy, giggling,
Scribble their phone numbers on my homework.
TWO SONNETS FOR STINK-EYE
THE LIBRARIAN
I
I use my spare to point and click and search
To cleanse the pink computer of disease
Poor “Pinky” cannot function so besmirched
She's like a cat that wriggles, rife with fleas.
It's difficult but still I have a plan
To winkle out the bug that caused the crash.
At once I sense some disapproval and
Glance up, as I delete poor Pinky's cache.
The despot stares behind a magazine
Her condemnation of all things plugged in
Apparent in her glare at my machine
Because to her what's not a book is sin.
Above the sick and epileptic screen
I see Samir who smiles and mouths
She's mean.
II
Yet unperturbed I note private details
Of friends and boys and other juicy news
Dear Freckle Arms won't know that her emails
Will reappear on an account I choose.
I'm quite the spy, I snicker to myself
Though I resist the sabotage today.
Stink-Eye still lurks in wait behind a shelf
To pounce on any kind of disarray.
Then she appears behind Samir and screams
