The Realm of Possibility (7 page)

me gusta no español,
but I have to go to class anyway
measuring my words too carefully, I make it through an oral quiz

memories return to me in the pause that follows.
merely two seats away, mary and pete wear necklaces they made for each other.
messy, this collection of recollections
midway through a sentence, she would chew her necklace, and I would always buy her new beads
mine remains on my neck—it hadn't occurred to me to take it off

miserable, misguided, misled
missing her is not an option right now
missing her seems to be a given

mr. randall is in a bad mood for English
my salvation is jed, who sends an endless stream of notes my way
never mentioning her by name, only as The Evil One
newfound bitterness, humor in the hating—
no, not hating

notice how fickle feelings can be
now I'm better, now I'm worse

nowhere is it written how to deal with this

only thirty more minutes
over and over until it is over

papers are handed in
people look at me and I know they have heard
perhaps they've heard her version
pestering, pitiful, played out, possessive
possibly they don't believe her

preparing to leave, jed proposes an ice-cream-from-container afternoon
probably I should take him up on it, but more than anything, I want sleep
professing my true exhaustion, I tell him I'll be okay
profoundly sick at heart, but okay

purposefully, I avoid the hallway where her locker resides
pushing my gaze straight to the floor, I try to navigate until I must look up
putting myself right in her path, right in her line of sight
puzzled by what to do

racing heart stops me
raising my eyes to meet hers …
reacting as she looks right past me …
realizing she is going to pretend I am not here

reaping, rebuffing, redrawing, reflecting, regarding, regressing,
rehearsing, reiterating, reliving, remembering, reopening, repaying,
repealing, replying, retracing, retreating, returning, revoking

right at this moment, I cannot imagine it being any worse
right here, I have been turned into nothing
right now, I am negated

right or wrong, I am pummeled by her theatrics
riven to the spot, unable to call her on it
robbed even of that

roller coasters run smoother than my mind
rope couldn't pull me home faster
row row row your boat, even as it sinks
rude entertainment for everyone in the hall to see

run to your locker
run to your nearest friend and get a ride
rush through the conversation and try not to cry

safe in my room
searching that moment for the motivation I need
see, she is not worth it
see, she never loved you
see, there is no going back

seesaw through the haze
sing out all the doubts you ever had
singe the memories, because they are the things that get lost in the fire

sitting on the edge of my bed
skipping to the ending
slaying the tiger even as it claws
sleep calling me
slowly, I give in to it

somehow the knocking wakes me, hours later
someone calling me to get ready for dinner
something angry in her voice

spare me one more fault, one more argument
speak to me later, I plead silently
special dispensation for the dumped
spoken too soon

starting with my lateness, moving on to my afternoon nap and the paint left on the dining room table
stepmother and I have been through this so many times
stifling my yell takes all of my strength

stupidly, zack comes in late, too, and gets his share of the earful
substituting apologies for defiance, he brushes her off and looks at me carefully
suddenly I realize he hadn't heard until this afternoon
suffering on my behalf, he draws her wrath away from me

table conversation is cordial and strained
taking food to stop my hunger is pointless
tastes feel strange in my mouth

teach me how to see this years from now
tear out the last seams

tegan

the answer is to just let go
the betrayal is to the past
the cocoon dangles empty
the desire outlasts the object
the effort lingers
the frustration is in how pointless the effort was
the ghost does not make itself transparent
the heart knows nothing except its own mind
the ideas are not enough
the jealousy is always there
the killing blow is sometimes the softest
the life you lead can be detoured
the moment you know cannot be taken back
the new you will try to bury the old me
the opportunity has passed
the past is inopportune
the questions all grow from why
the reality will always be contended
the sadness will ebb
the trouble is the time it might take
the ugly words cannot be erased, only discredited
the versions are never the same
the wonder is that we make it through
the
x
is the unknown variable
the yesterday cannot be repeated
the zenith is the point when you look down and realize you're no longer below

there is no use in staying at the table
thoughts can follow you anywhere
turning the tv off, I head back to my room
tv only seems garish, fake

under the covers, under the watch of my glow-in-the-dark stars
up until this moment, I have held back from the edge
veering away from the flashing-before-my-eyes
votive darkness, though, draws the memories to me

wading in, because I know I have to

we ate raspberries from each other's hands
we carved our initials in benches, surrounded by a shape of our own invention
we danced around her bedroom without caring how we looked
we danced around so many subjects; if I brought up love, she usually brought it down
we fell into each other's arms as soon as no one else was in sight
we gave nothing that was irreplaceable, except time
we lit candles for each other when we were in different cities

we made fun of people together, to feel better about ourselves
we obsessed over the difference between what we meant and what we said
we ran out of things to say and watched videos instead
we screamed over what movie to see, being five minutes late
we were never honest with each other, not really

what's gone is gone

when the night grows so quiet you could hear the moon rise, zack comes to my door
whispering into the darkness
with careful steps entering
withdrawing my solitude
witnessing my arms crossed over my heart
x marks the spot

years between us, but not that many
years we've gone without this kind of conversation
yesterday he couldn't even tell something was wrong
yet here he is, now
you know,
he says,
you'll get through this
you live each day one at a time
you live every day all at once
you live with the possibility of good-bye
you move on.

you ponder in this darkness and see you're not alone
you realize you never felt alone
you subtracted one from your life, that's all

your heart is not as broken as you think,
he says
you're not as dumb as you look,
I reply

zack tells me it won't be as hard tomorrow, and I know he's right
zero hour has passed

We are all bodies, so I figured I wanted to be a strong one.
Without your body, you are nothing. You aren't even an idea.
I took off my shirt and people told me I was
well-defined.

People respected the time I put in, all of the lifting,
the sweating, the pushing, the running, the exertion.
It was a discipline. My body was a discipline.

I wasn't always like that. None of us were.
The boy with the sunken chest gave himself over to me.
He wanted to be strong, because in this world you have to be.

It started with a blue barbell, something my mother had for aerobics.
I sat there in front of the television and lifted and lifted.
My father saw and got me ten pounds, fifty pounds, a bench.

I wanted Daniel, my neighbor, to lift with me. But he wasn't into it.
So I found my way to football, to wrestling, to the weight room.
I found the guys who knew what I meant, what I meant to be.

They said I would feel more in control. And I did.
They said I'd have to devote myself. And I did.
They said girls would look at me. And, damn, they did.

This body worked like a key. It got me into parties.
It got me the nod. It got me the smile and the tease. I was no fool.
Guys saw me, they saw power. Girls saw me, they saw sex.

Well, some of them. Daniel saw me and thought I was stupid.
Coach saw me and thought I could do more, strengthen.
And Mary … well, at first I didn't think Mary saw me at all.

Even though I'd never really talked to her, she got under my skin.
She wasn't in the group of girls that hung with my group of guys.
She was just this girl in Spanish class who was worse at it than I was.

When Señora Tilghman called on her, she never had the answer.
She never even knew what the question was, even if it was in English.
She wasn't just lost in space. She was space itself. Waiting to disappear.

She was not my type. My type was the kind of girl who'd go for me.
But there I was, fascinated by a girl who was nearly invisible.
As I was to her, like the crowd blurring when you're in the game.

With the football season on, I had to push my body beyond.
I wasn't like John, who'd drink eight Buds and still own the field.
I wasn't like Martin, such a natural that running fast is like breathing.

No, I had to watch myself. One false move and I'd find myself on JV.
The guys liked me and considered me part of the team. But no illusions.
If I held them back—if I didn't do my part—it was good-bye.

She was the one distraction I allowed myself. John laughed.
He said I could do better, which meant he didn't think she was hot.
He said I could probably circle her waist with my two hands.

I was amazed by her slightness, by the bones of her pale arms.
She was so breakable. I wondered: If I lifted her, would it feel like a wing?
I couldn't believe I was thinking such things. I wanted to know.

We went for weeks without speaking, with only me realizing we weren't.
Then one day I saw these silent tears falling from her eyes.
She was so thin and sad that her whole body looked like a line of tears.

There, in Spanish class. We were conjugating
conocer,
to know.
I reached into my pocket for a tissue, but all I had was a napkin.
I hesitated, then handed it over. She wiped her eyes before taking it.

She mouthed the words
thank you
to me. She stopped crying.
Composed, like nothing had happened.
Conozco. Conoces. Conoce.
I watched as she rolled the napkin into a tiny rope around her finger.

She was so light, but her emotions were heavy. John said to run away
.
But I walked toward her instead. Asked her out. Got her to talk a little.
Told her she was beautiful. Didn't give up when she didn't believe me.

I didn't know I loved her until I found myself in the middle of it.
Concern wasn't something I'd ever really thought about before.
Now all I could do was be concerned about her, and hope she cared.

It wasn't easy. There are tears inside her that nobody can stop.
But there are so many other things. I could show them to her.
That there's more to life than more. And there's more to life than less.

Talking to her, I felt strong in a different way. Without her, I faltered.
I felt alone again, with so many questions and no one to ask.
I found that with love, you need someone to talk to about it.

There were guys on the team, but their girlfriends didn't like Mary.
They always had someone else to set me up with, to bring me back.
The guys' allegiance was to the team, and the girls had to take it.

The guys wanted to hear about my sex life, not my love life.
John kept asking me for “the details,” and at first I told him.
But when I saw he didn't care what they linked up to, I stopped.

The guys would make jokes, about her size, about our sex.
I never really laughed, but no one noticed. Until I started to hold back.
Until I started to tell them to go on without me.

Coach pulled me aside, asked me where my fire had gone.
He told me to bulk up, to add the shakes and supplements—
everything short of steroids. Just like John and Bo and Tray and Dex.

What's lonelier than being on a team where you no longer belong?
Even though I was catching passes, I was losing the bigger game.
John started making more jokes. And he was my best friend.

If it had happened to someone else, would I have done the same?
I found myself asking this question, and was saddened by the answer.
When John pretended to screw her, I knew I'd be gone by wrestling.

She said,
Don't make me your everything.
I knew she was right.
As she got better, as my feelings shifted from concern to care,
I could also feel the space between us shift, our levels of need.

I used to talk to Daniel, but he was gay now, different.
We had talked about things, but they weren't important things.
Important then, yes. But no longer as important now. Different.

Maybe this is what happens when life is no longer about bodies.
You find yourself in your own body, and no matter how strong it is,
it is separate. It contains its own space. It must find its own way.

And maybe it is only by finding yourself separate that you can feel
the true intensity of becoming close to another person.
I am trying to understand this, and I am trying to understand it with her.

The day I quit the team, the day I leave all that, I will cry in her arms.
I will be the same body I was before, the same body I will be after.
But at that moment I won't believe I have a body at all, just a proximity.

To get something, you must give something away.
To hold something, you must give something away.
To love something, you must give something away.

I know all the novels of Jane Austen
The quadratic equation
Heisenberg's Principle of Uncertainty.
I know how to conjugate four languages
All the periods of Picasso
And the reasons Jane Grey was beheaded.
But I don't know where the hell
To find some pot.