Dating Down (8 page)

Cracks, Pt. II

We roll down the street

bouncing along

split-open car seats

slightly ripped vinyl

coils and springs

years and years of people

in the passenger's seat.

How many girls have sat here with him?

Jessica?

Each bump

every pothole

lively swerve

sharp turn

seems my seat might

eject me.

Another bump, another girl?

Suddenly, so insecure

I never used to be

like this with Ted

or with myself.

Is this what love is?

A jerky
sm
jagged
sm
jumpy ride?

Cracks, Pt. III

Out in front of an abandoned warehouse

sheets like makeshift curtains,

wave out cracked windows.

X needs to make one stop.

The intercom button says
sm
Big Brother.

We wait for an answer from
sm
Big Brother
.

The sidewalk's

chipped and uneven,

weeds fight through

the broken spaces.

Big Brother
breaking
buzzes us in.

I follow X up

three flights of stairs

stepping over old

bicycles

beer bottles

beams of wood

broken DVD players

doorknobs

and banged-up cardboard boxes marked

THIS SIDE UP.

At the top is that same guy:

sm
café guy
sm
park guy
sm
strung-out guy

looking a little less frazzled,

but still creepy, crazy.

Surprised, I step back

tripping over trash,

rotting stench.

The summer heat begins to burrow

under my skin.

X:
sm
Come on in. Don't be a baby.

Big Brother
laughs.

It stings.

His words slice like paper cuts.

A baby?

I'm just a baby.

A naïve, innocent high school girl to him?

Me:
sm
I'll wait outside.

Whatever's going on in there

baby or no baby

I don't want to see

like I don't want to know

about the girls with him

before me.

I'm not ready to know,

not steady, so I go

clomp clomp

down the stairs.

X enters
Big Brother's
apartment

creep creep

closes the door.

Cracks, Pt. IV

Clip

clop

clomp

no one's coming after me.

Step

race

hop

I rush to get out of there.

Am I a baby?

His words burn hot

truth sears.

Baby?

I push open the downstairs door,

fresh air hits me

like a muggy pillow

suffocating and cruel.

I plop down on a fractured piece of sidewalk

broken and split

as a tear falls.

Why am I crying?

I'm not standing up for myself.

I'm not taking a stand.

I'm just looking the other way,

walking away, crying.

Baby?

If this were a girl in one of my paintings, I'd title it

The Pouter.

When X returns, I've painted a new portrait

The Unaffected Female.

He snaps his fingers,

claps his hands,

energy shooting out his palms.

Says he didn't mean to say
a
baby

meant
my
baby,

whispers in my ear,

his wet lips send chills down my spine.

I melt right there in his arms.

A new title for the painting of me

The Girlfriend.

X:
sm
Ready to hear some music?

He loops his arm in mine,

I nod.

He kisses my lips

gently

sweetly

tenderly

as if I were a baby

being laid down on a blanket.

His lips

pillowy

dewy

soft

smell like Ajax

and air freshener.

What I See at the Show

Gavin meets me there.

We hang while X disappears

sm
returns
sm
seems distracted
sm
charged up

says this show

will pull him out of the poorhouse.

The poorhouse.

A place he mentions a lot lately.

To get over George

Gavin and I play the
how 'bout
game—

Me:
sm
How 'bout
… him? He looks cute.

Gavin:
sm
Bad fashion.

Me:
sm
How 'bout
… the one by the door?

Gavin:
sm
He doesn't look a day over fourteen.

Me:
sm
It's an all-ages show?

Gavin:
sm
No side-bars. Next!

Me:
sm
How 'bout
… the guy with the fedora?

Gavin:
sm
Not gay.

Me:
sm
Straight guys dress like that?

Gavin:
sm
No interruptions!

Me:
sm
Sorry.

Gavin:
sm
How 'bout
… we get some drinks?

We secretly sip

Jack & Coke & Jack & Coke & Jack & Coke

while the first band plays.

The music pulses through me

swiftly

swaying

bleeding into me

bold acrylic colors

on a clean canvas.

I'm light-headed

must learn to control my drinking

must learn to pace myself

and missing X.

I run into Party Betty,

a sparkling beauty in Jane's diamond studs.

I ask if she's seen X,

she points to a door.

Betty:
sm
If you're into that.

What does that mean?

I jiggle, jangle open the door

caught up in a rug

only opens a crack

but it's enough

to see X on a couch beside

five other people

white powder

all over the table

spinning room

spiraling noise

expanding darkness

smell of cleaning fluid

mixed with
don't be a baby
and

X

his horrified face

signaling that I'm

seeing his secrets

suddenly I'm sick.

I try to act cool—
It's no big deal.

I've seen it all before
—I'm no baby.

I want to crawl into myself

ball up and hide

but the cleaning smell gets to me

and I vomit

on the rug buckled into a ball

by the door.

What I Learn at the Show

I close the door and

idiot

push my way through the crowd

stupid

gathering in greater numbers

stupid me

as the ticking minutes promise them

what

their big-name band

on Earth

their big night out

am I doing?

their big, happyhappyhappy time together.

And me,

silly

vomiting in public

baby baby

sm
pushing my way out of the room,

sm
grabbing Gavin

gasping for air

grinding my teeth

out on the sidewalk

sm
head between hands

elbows on knees.

As Gavin rubs my back, I tell him.

I feel sick, wishing it was just

a cold

a virus

I could catch and get over

a guy

I could dump and get over

but I care too much

hurt too much.

Gavin:
sm
So your boyfriend's a druggie.

Me:
sm
That's a little harsh.

Gavin:
sm
You're in love with a guy who does hardcore drugs.

Me:
sm
Cut it out. Maybe he can explain.

But I know, inside,

if he's hiding these kinds of things,

it can't be good.

Gavin:
sm
How 'bout
… we get you out of here?

What I Leave at the Show

SorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorry
SorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorry

SorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorry
SorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorrySorry

flows out of X's mouth.

Swears he doesn't use

meth.

That was meth?

Says he was just hanging out, nothing less, nothing more.

X:
sm
It's not something big. If that's what you thought.

Something big?

Seems pretty big.

But he swears he

was

not

using

meth.

Should I believe him?

I want to believe him.

I want to love him.

I still love him.

Me:

Gavin:
sm
Meth?! Such a white-trash drug.

Like there is a hierarchy
sm
of users.

A class system
sm
of users.

An income bracke
sm
of users.

Looking down on
sm
other users.

Gavin takes me home.

He's—

my knight in shining armor

my valiant prince

my protector.

Everything I thought

X

was.

I Am Not a Baby, I Am
Not a Baby

here I am

here

there you are

there

between us

truth

around us

albatross

cheating me

cheating

you, smoking

gun

blazing hot

lit

by the summer heat

sniffed murky haze of

night snuffed out while

listening to music

rumors foolish.

but who? me

or you?

it's something big,

white hot

bang

knocking me over with

powder-strong force

liars and thieves

trample

my heart

shoot up

gunned down

in the midst of love

in the middle of lust

in the market of leftover

naiveté

gone.

blame the bandits of youth

robbed.

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

me.

The Bad News

Coming home drunk

gets me grounded

for two weeks.

Summer without

cell phone
sm
parties
sm
friends.

I …

should be ashamed

should know better

shouldn't embarrass the family

should never have been allowed out

with that boy.

X gets

crossed out

of the picture.

Jane:
sm
Boys who won't come around the house are boys

that are no good.

Dad:
sm
Last thing we need right now is a family scandal.

Jane:
sm
Especially since the election's only a few months

away.

One true word—

Election
.

Disguised as wise words to shape and revise me.

Words that mean nothing to me.

Empty, meaningless, words that

without X,

fall to the floor and lie there like a rug

crumpled up.

See,

I've been caught

coming home drunk.

The Good News

Coming home drunk

gives me time to paint

for two weeks.

Summer with

new pieces
sm
fresh hues
sm
ready for RISD.

Does Dad remember he promised to take me to see the campus?

Does Dad remember he promised to talk to a college counselor?

Does Dad remember he promised to help carry my canvas?

One little word—

Election
.

He's caught up in big debates.

Forcing me to participate

from now

until the November election.

I have no say,

see,

I've been caught

coming home drunk.

The Reform of Ralph

April caught Ralph using something.

Everyone's doing it, right?

No big deal?

Her now-red hair

bounces as she shares how she caught

Ralph red-handed.

He had a change of heart.

He decided he liked her and wanted to date her so

he turned things around,

cut
that stuff
out.

Summer storms

breezy and warm

now April and Ralph are an item.

A drug-free item.

Things I used to share—

little letters of love

kisses coated with sugar

sweet nothings

side by side

walking down

summer sidewalks.

April shares with Ralph—

slushy drinks

sloppy kisses

summer love

heating up

just as mine

cools down.

I shiver.

Now,

oh, how

the tables have turned.