Dating Down (11 page)

Tears of Change

X:
sm
It's not what you think.

Me:
sm
I know about Jessica.

X:
sm
I love you, and—

Me:
sm
And what? AND Jessica?

X:
sm
It's not like that.

Me:
sm
Then what's it like?

He fumbles, nervous, quiet.

Only guilty people are nervous. Liars. Cheaters.

I will not be the Fool.

Every second ticking by

I just want to die.

X:
sm
I don't love Jessica.

His long, beautiful fingers,

wrap around a towel.

The same hands that wrapped around

my face

first kiss

my waist

his embrace

stroking my hair

touching my shoulders.

X:
sm
I do it sometimes …

drugs …

but mostly I sell …

to people like … Jessica.

X breaks down.

Sobs into the towel while I try to stop the room

from spinning.

Says he's sorry about the lies,

that he told them to save me,

protect me.

Confesses he

sm
sells meth

dabbles in coke

pushes a pill or two

needs money

needs me

knows he's weak

hates himself

less so

when he's with me.

Didn't want me to know because he thinks I'm

perfect
sm
beautiful
sm
smart
sm
talented

nothing like him.

Hearing these things makes my

energy
sm
rage
sm
anger
sm
insecurities

slide down his bathroom drain.

X:
sm
You and me, Sam. That's all I ever wanted.

Me:
sm
I don't care about the drugs.

my anger
sm
my stand
sm
quickly losing steam

Me:
sm
I care about the lies.

His weakness deflates me,

corrodes my brain as we

hold each other and I see,

while the drugs scare me

it's not nearly as much

as the distance they create,

the lies and deceit.

This is what I believe,

honestly.

But SELLING?

He swears he'll stop

if I promise not to leave.

As he wraps his arms around me

big

strong

close

I feel we

are yet again

meant to be

like serendipity
like floating downstream
like good ole Henri

like love works.

Places

After the fight,

our relationship takes a turn.

I've found my place

my role

protector, mother hen—the new definition of me.

If Mom cannot be this to me

I can be this to X.

It's what Lady Elba meant for me,

the High Priestess.

Still, I await my
something big.

X and I find our new stride,

it feels right

and strange.

Like a bird unable to fly

or balloons caught in a tree

time turns.

Jane gets headaches daily

Melanie will only talk to her invisible friend,

Valerie

Miguel nags me

Dad ignores me

Ted begins texting me

April is now a blonde

Gavin,

my Gavin

my guide

stops talking to me.

Says I'm a fool if I think X can change.

Doesn't have time for foolish people.

Tips his hat, leaves me

with his half of our banana split

in Thirty-One bittersweet Flavors.

But the Fool is my friend, right, Lady Elba?

How Smoke Burns

Lying around in X's bed,

nestled up in the crook of his arm

watching him smoke

in and out

thinking about how we're

in and out

just like that smoke.

falling in love
sm
sm
in

lying
sm sm sm sm
out

making up
sm sm
in

fighting
sm sm
out

Cigarettes.

The only habit he's kept.

I'm about to turn into

Sam, High Priestess, mother hen,

lecture about what he actually rolls in them

when he looks at me

a look I recall

a look I remember

a look before he called me

a baby

I shift my weight
sm
lift up my arm
sm
grab his cigarette

take a

sm
long

slow

draw

choke from the sheer power

of his home-rolled cigarette.

X laughs,

reminds me that Dad would die if he caught me smoking

because I am not a rebel,

I'm reputable.

We Hendersons have a reputation to uphold …

His words
sm
inhaled in, blown out
sm
make so much sense.

Where's the Sam that wanted to

sm
try things
sm
experience life
sm
all of it?

All of It

With the good comes the bad.

But is the bad really so bad?

How bad is bad?

Like lonely break-up bad? Or smiling-at-every-rally bad?

Worse than being called a baby?

Played like a fool?

How bad is bad?

Inferior to a boring step-mom?

Living without my mom?

Loving a boy who loves drugs?

How bad is bad?

Can it eliminate friendships? Take father from daughter?

Cause cancer?

Is bad poorer than a political promise?

More repulsive than lying?

How bad is bad?

And if I like it,

does that make it good?

How bad

is

bad?

Consulting April, Pt. II

PickupPickupPickupPickupPickupPickupPickupPickupPickup

April's phone goes into voicemail.

I'm out with my man. Leave it at the beep
.

Since when is Ralph a man?

A

clueless boy—yes

lazy guy—sure

but man?

I try again.

This time she picks up.

I plop on my bed, get comfy.

April:
sm
Wanna do something later?

Me:
sm
I can't.

I mumble something about X.

April:
sm
Because you're a couple again?

I mumble a
perhaps
.

Me:
sm
Thought you of all people would understand.

April:
sm
I want to, but he's—

Me:
sm
Trying to change.

April:
sm
Trying?

Me:
sm
Maybe it's not so bad.

April:
sm
What did I tell you about boys and drugs?

I quote our cafeteria conversation.

Me:
sm
People who do drugs are lame.

April:
sm
Good. So we agree.

Me:
sm
But not all drugs are bad.

Me:
sm
Some save lives, you know.

Me:
sm
Cure cancer even.

April:
sm
Right.

Her voice trails

sm
sounds so far away

like a fuzzy, unfamiliar connection.

She sighs.

April:
sm
Look, are you okay?

I touch a dried-up rose petal beside my bed.

One from X.

From the sidewalk. It's delicate.

And beautiful.

Me:
sm
Yeah, I'm good.

Consulting Gavin, Pt. II

Gavin:
sm
You leave him yet?

Me:
sm
You left me with your ice cream sundae.

Gavin:
sm
And you left … ?

Me:
sm
It's complicated.

Gavin:
sm
It's simple.

Me:
sm
You should try being more forgiving.

I'm thinking of George.

Gavin:
sm
You should try being honest.

Me:
sm
What's that supposed to mean?

Gavin:
sm
He does drugs.

Which means he is a druggie.

He tells lies.

Which means he is a liar.

Me:
sm
People can change.

Gavin:
sm
If you choose not to see it, at least admit

that's your choice.

Me:
sm
He needs me.

Gavin:
sm
I love you, Sam, but—

Me:
sm
Why do you always see the cup as half empty?

Gavin:
sm
Because right now, that's what the cup is.

Me:
sm
Just because George left for the summer doesn't

mean he left you.

Gavin:
sm
Honey, lonely is lonely.

And you can lie to yourself all you want.

My Gavin

my gadfly.

Where It Begins

Party Betty strikes again.

Big Blowout at Betty's House!

I decide we should go, thinking about

The Cigarette Effect.

X perks up, looks at me differently

like I'm surprising

interesting.

I'm feeling good until we're at the party and he

runs into friends

walks away

avoids looking at me.

Being good, being the

High Priestess

mother hen

reputable one

doesn't seem to be working.

So when someone passes around

sm
a bong
sm
then some pills
sm
then who-knows-what

I start my reputation anew, livin'—

The less-than-stressful life.

The paint-my-own-fate life.

The floating-airy-on-top-of-the-world-feeling life.

The back-next-to-my-guy life.

I'm surrounded by friends

so much in love and finally …

… livin' my life.

How It Continues

The following morning's

loud

light

less than fun,

feels like a dog

licked the insides

of my brain.

I pad down the hall

in search of

aspirin

water

ice packs

anything to stop

sm
the pounding

sm
the pressure

sm
the pestering pang in my gut,

sm
People who do drugs are lame.

sm
If you choose not to see it, admit that's your choice.

Instead of comfort, I find

Jane jabbering

Melanie blubbering

something about breakfast.

Melanie:
sm
Brewberry pancakes.

Jane:
sm
Daddy had to eat with his campaign people.

Melanie:
sm
Brewberry pancakes!

Jane:
sm
How about pancakes with Daddy for dinner?

The pounding in my head

burning in my eyes

makes me continue down the hall,

pushing past Melanie's

Brewberry pancakes for breakfast!
chant
.

The thought of food

makes me queasy.

The thought of Dad

sm
off promising pancakes

on the campaign trail

makes me sicker.

My head finds relief moments after

I take some Tylenol.

My heart finds relief seconds after

his call.

X:
sm
I feel so close to you right now, Sam Henderson.

I smile deep in my heart as I listen to his voice—

warm

soothing

calm.

I frown as I find a note on my dresser from Miguel—

Your father asked that I remind you to

iron your dress before the next rally.

I ball the note in my fist

and lob it into the trash

like flipping a hotcake over a skillet.

Me:
sm
Wanna grab breakfast?

I ask,

as Melanie's chants grow louder.

He agrees to meet me

in twenty minutes.

Leo's Lunchroom.

I throw on my Chucks

and jog down the stairs

hungry for his touch,

starved for his smile.

Closing the front door masks

the sounds of my little sister

and her

flapjack disappointment.

Brewberry pancakes! Brewberry pancakes!

Brewberry pancakes! Brewberry pancakes!

Where It Goes from Here

From here

my dear

I'm up

up!

on top of the world

day after day

night after night

to lean on.

It's good

crystal clear

up here

painting the feelings of my soul

dancing like I've got no control.

What's the fun in feeling safe?

Where's the safe in feeling fun?

Is this what I've been denying myself?

I swallow

and suck

sip

and snort

and then

I lean on

X,

my rock.

I'm powerful

and beautiful and

bohemian

full of vigor and vim

right in line

leaning in time

with X.

Super Samantha Significant

leaning on

the counter

spinning, twirling

becoming alive

livin' my life.

Blink blink

I drink

sniff

think

up!