Capricious (5 page)
Just because I can.
Ignoring each other
They circle me
As seventeen
Begins.
NINA'S SON
I remember
Neglected dolls
Hard, cold plastic
Their chemical smell
Like funeral homes
Or janitors' closets.
So unlike
The baby's soft, fat foot
Cupped in my hand
Warm and smooth
His glossy head
Black and sleek
As an otter.
LAST MAN STANDING
Sam looked like he saw a ghost
David says
When you had Nina's baby in your lap.
He has stayed to help clean up.
Samir has gone to work.
There but for the grace of Allah?
I say.
David stares into the soapy sink
Silent.
I could all-out lie
Tell him Samir and I are through
And that would fit in with my plan
But I'm learning
Lying is not so easy.
At least, not to the boy
Who actually talks to me
At school.
THE SECOND
The moment
We step out the door
Summer arrives.
The earlier rain
Rinsed spring away.
The instant
The wind grows warm
I slip my cardigan off
And fling it
Over a lawn chair.
The moment
I sit on the bottom stair
David sits behind me
And trails his fingers
On my bare shoulders.
The instant
My skin shivers
His sigh tickles my neck.
I turn and kneel
Facing him for
The second
Of
Our
First
Kisses.
DAVID'S DISCLAIMER
I didn't think
You would ever
Let me do that
Again
,
He says.
I've been trying
To forget about it
But I really like you.
You've probably noticed.
Say something.
Or not.
LIPS
We kiss for a long time
His hands on my neck
And back.
It's chaste
Innocent
Like after-school-
TV
Church-picnic
Prom-picture
Kisses.
I try to invite
More
Parting my lips
Sliding my hands
Around him
And just as I feel
His tongue's
Tentative
Touch
His phone chirps
And our kiss
Dies.
GUILT
I watch him leave
He barely says a word
Nothing to worry about
Then he's gone.
His taillights blink
At the corner
And disappear
In the golden horizon.
My skin tingles
From his fingers
On my collarbone
And the shiver of guilt.
This is what I wanted
What I planned
But the reality
Is something unexpected.
Donning my cardigan
I try to ignore
The sensation
Of tearing in two.
DRY EYES
Last year I cried a lot
Like monsoon season
West Coast winters
Pacific storms.
Last year I flew apart
Like an eagle's nest
Torn from a treetop
Flung into the wind.
Last year I showed the world
My most intimate part
Scaring even myself
With my foolishness.
This year my eyes sting
I blink away
The dry summer dust
And doubts.
This year
I will store
The foul weather
Inside.
ALL A GIRL NEEDS
A summer job
Money
An occupation
A settled family
A soft place to land
An image
Single
Carefree
Cautious
Sensible
A secret
Reckless heart
Two boys
And maybe
Too much love.
MARIKA
I encounter Marika
Ms. Sagal's daughter
At the Apple Store
(They're not hiring).
Are you getting an iPad?
She nods, jerky, wordless.
We want to try the speech apps
Her classroom aide says.
Apparently
,
they're great.
Marika bends her fingers
And makes a face at me
Smacking a large black box
In her lap.
Your old one hurts your fingers?
I ask.
Her aide grins.
That's very good.
Intuitive.
I shrug.
It seemed pretty obvious.
Some people are intimidated.
Some people are dickheads
I say.
The aide frowns
But Marika laughs
An explosive
Full-body laugh
And presses
One curved hand
To her mouth
Her eyes bright.
Coffee?
I say,
I'd love some.
PATIENCE
Sometimes
I
Sign
Sometimes
I
Use
A
Speech aid.
Sometimes
I
P-R-E-F-E-R
To
Listen.
Sometimes
I
Like
T-O-T-A-L
Silence.
MARIKA'S VOICE
It's not at all robotic
Because it comes with
Sighs and giggles
Or frowning concentration.
With an expectant stare
She demands comment.
I like silence too, I say
And listening.
Good.
Words
Are
P-R-E-C-I-O-U-S.
But
So
Are
J-E-W-E-L-E-D
S-W-O-R-D-S
And
S-I-L-V-E-R
D-A-G-G-E-R-S.
And maybe that's
The most brilliant thing
I've ever heard.
DISTRACTION
Only when I'm waiting for the bus
Do I remember
That I forgot
AGAIN
To apply for any jobs.
DRIVING TEST
It's a rite of passage
Mom says
And Dad says
We've practiced a lot
And both Samir and David
Have let me drive their cars
In parking lots
At night.
I should pass this test.
I mean, how hard can it be?
Total morons drive
I've seen them
Tasteless graceless music
Pumping out their
Glinting tinted windows.
GENIE drives, for god's sake.
But there are things I'm good at:
Art, insults, agitation, sex
(According to Samir).
And things I suck at:
Having normal friends
Wearing normal clothes
Being normal.
And, apparently,
Driving.
CAR WASH
Even though I'd rather not think
About cars for a few days
At least until I can book another test
I have to meet with a dozen giggling girls
To plan the car wash.
Why aren't there any boys here?
I ask, which sets off more giggling
And gasping, girls grabbing each other
And rolling black-ringed eyes.
It's a BIKINI car wash, Ella
Like that should be obvious.
Let's elect a chairwoman
Someone says
Ignoring the obvious signs
That I'm having a heart attack
A stroke or mental breakdown.
Someone nominates Genie
Who didn't giggle or gasp
Or grab anyone
At my faux pas.
She only glared
At me.
A PRIVATE WORD
I know you,
Genie says
I know this is the kind of thing
That you'd love to mess with
I'm sure you'd call it
“Objectification”
Or “degrading.”
But we don't care
What you think.
This is a tradition
So let's make a deal.
You sit in meetings
And shut up
And on the day
Turn up in a bikini
Waxed and tanned
Ready to wash cars
Or even better
Go to hell
Right now.
GENIE
It's not exactly my fault she hates me
I didn't know last year
That she had a thing for Samir
He didn't tell me about their history.
And yes, I kind of hacked into her laptop
But that was just for fun at first
And she was the one who framed Samir
For vandalizing Sarah's art.
Yes, technically it's my fault
She was grounded for two months
Because maybe there was another way
To prove Samir's innocence.
Though in my defense I was also
Looking at going to jail or worse
And probably not operating on
Full mental capacity.
And yes, for a while it did look like
I'd stolen her best friend forever
But Sarah and I never really clicked
She hangs out with other Jewish kids now.
And okay, Genie and David used to be friends
But he's over her bad attitude, he says.
So maybe she thinks if I'd never been born
Her life would just be that much better.
SWOON
The only thing
That restores my will
To live in the horrid
Aftermath
Of spending lunch
With twelve girls
Imagining us all
In bikinis
(Waxed and tanned?!)
Covered with foam
And water
Squirming and writhing
Like strippers in training
Is the thought
Of Samir's worship
His awed reverence
His adoration
At the altar
Of me.
Tell me I'm beautiful,
I text him.
He replies in seconds.
Like sunset
And sunrise
And all the stars
In between.
WHERE DO I SIGN?
Marika has been talking about you
.
I help her put the ink pots away
Carefully tightening each lid.
I learned THAT the hard way
Ms. Sagal jokes.
Marika doesn't warm up to everyone
She hates to be pitied
Or talked down to.
I'm not sure what to say
I can relate
I hate pity too
And pretention
And patronizing
“When I was your age”
And so on.
Marika's aide usually
Works with her.
They spend the summer
Hanging out.
I teach summer school.
The ink pots are lined up
On the shelf like patient soldiers
Their tin helmets screwed on tight.
Ms. Sagal closes the cupboard
And locks it.
Marika's aide is spending the summer
In Peru
Some sort of language grant
So I was wondering
If you'd like to work with us.
With Marika
All summer
Just hanging out
For money.
IRONIC (BATHROOM) FOUND POETRY
This is the only real mark I'll ever make.
For once I have a pen
But I have nothing to say.
I just wrote on the wall
Take THAT Mom + Dad!
These are words above a toilet
In a high school
And therefore irrelevant.
I solemnly swear
I will not write on walls.
This is what we do because we can't VOTE.
I was going to write something profound
But I realized I have nothing profound to say.
Graffiti is lame.
The pen is mightier
Than nothing at all.
Ella is an irrelevant nobody
And not worth mentioning.
AFTER-SCHOOL SPECIAL
Samir gets a look sometimes
An another-time-zone look
He holds my hand
On his bare chest
His iron eyes
On the ceiling.
Do you ever think
About your brother?
I ask.
Do you read minds?
How did you know?
Marika's aide
Says I'm intuitive
I say.
Being with you
Makes me think
All kinds of things.
My mind becomes
Unshackled
And wild.
Do you ever write to him
Or email or call?
Samir shakes his head
Sitting up
Pulling on his T-shirt.
I've broken the spell
Somehow
But I don't care.
What's his name?
I ask.
Ash
, Samir says
Ashraf.
He emails me sometimes.
I would call him
But my father
Forbids it.
He's buttoning his jeans.
Your father forbids
Many things, I say.
You do them anyway.
Samir does not
Smile.
ASH
The day he told us
My father cried
I had never seen him cry before
