wasted. When we drove by
Ty’s place, I half considered
taunting Mick with a confession.
Mick pulls over in a deserted spot.
He probably has to pee. But no,
he reaches across the seat. Come
over here. Make it worth my while.
“I don’t think so, Mick. You’re
back with Madison now. Wouldn’t
want to mess that up for you.”
You so deserve each other.
He slides over, gagging me with
the smell of his sweat. No shower
today? She doesn’t have to know.
Better not know. Come on.
Okay. Calling Mick was maybe
not the best idea. I dig for a twenty.
“This should cover what I smoked.
Please take me home now.”
Don’t want your money. His zipper
opens, and what escapes is eager.
Then he pushes my head down.
Haven’t you missed me?
I Could Just Do It
Get it over with. Pretend it never
happened. But I don’t think so.
It has to be my idea or not at all.
“No, Mick. Goddammit, I said no!”
But he’s all over me and I may not
have a choice. He outweighs me
by a hundred pounds and he’s got
me pinned against the door. His
fingers, clumsy, work at my own
zipper. I try to push him off.
What’s wrong? You know you want to.
“No, I really don’t.” But I can’t stop
his mouth from covering mine, leaving
a wet trail of slobber all over my face.
One hand tugs my shirt over my head,
the other is inside my bra, twisting,
pinching. I could just get it over with.
See? Your nipples don’t lie. You like it.
He’s too worked up to manage tight
jeans, so he leans up over me, demanding
I do him with my mouth. I could bite.
But he’d probably kick my ass
and finish his business anyway.
I’ve never seen this side of Mick.
Or maybe I have and ignored it.
I can barely breathe, and the teeth
of his zipper are biting into my chin.
Atta girl. You can’t say no to…
Daddy. Daddy? Kaeleigh would just
give in. The thought of her wide-eyed
surrender gives me a sudden idea.
But I have to play things right.
First I go limp, pretend to acquiesce.
I even give him a taste of what he wants.
“Stop for a minute. You’re hurting me.”
He hesitates, looks down into my
eyes, which have teared up quite
nicely. He draws back ever so slightly.
I dig down, beyond fear, find Raeanne
again. “If we’re going to do this, you
don’t get to have all the fun. And can
we pretty please take another hit first?”
The Greed Factor, Again
That, and asking instead of demanding.
I could be a politician one day. Ugh!
Why did I have to go and think that?
Mick slides to one side of me. Okay.
I reach down, grab his tray, complete
with maybe a half ounce of great bud.
Pricey bud. I’m betting on greed.
“Hang on. I need some light.” I open
the door wide, send the tray sailing
like a pot-covered Frisbee.
What the fuck did you do that for?
Mick jumps across me, out the open
door. I slam it behind him, hit the lock
button, move under the steering wheel.
I’m not about to walk all the way home.
Mick can do that. He’s on his hands
and knees scouring the dirt for bud,
roaches, rolling papers. I can’t help
but notice the crack of his exposed ass.
He was in too big of a hurry to zip his pants.
I think before I do it. I’ve never actually
driven before. But how hard could it be?
Think again. I might just kill someone.
Hopefully Mick, not me. I laugh, start
the engine. Mick looks up, and I know
I can’t let him back in the truck.
What the hell are you doing, bitch?
I have no clue what I’m doing. Fuck it.
I’ve seen this done a thousand times before.
Drop the gear shift to D. Hit the gas…
The Avalanche Lurches Forward
Wheels spinning in the gravel.
Mick rolls out of the way.
Good thing. With more force
of will than talent, I manage
to get tires onto asphalt,
weaving back and forth
until I sort of get the hang
of driving a straight line.
Almost makes me wish
I wasn’t so high. Almost.
This isn’t so hard. I play
a little, testing brakes,
acceleration, and steering
capabilities. Not exactly
rocket science. Uh-oh.
Here come some curves.
I ease off the gas, maneuver
through them, half thinking
about what I’m doing.
The rest thinks about Mick.
He’s pissed, for certain.
But what’s he going to
do? Call the cops? His
word against mine. Still,
if the cops come knocking…
How Would That Look on Headline News?
CONGRESSWOMAN’S DAUGHTER ARRESTED
for theft of would-be rapist’s truck. Says
they were smoking pot after curfew
when things got out of hand.
I could go back, pick him up.
If I could manage to turn
around, anyway. But
you know, I really don’t think
I will. He started this game.
I’ll play it to the end.
It’s one thing to say okay, do me,
do me any way you want
and it’s no problem,
because I gave you permission.
But to say no, and have him
insist he will anyway?
No damn way. And as I work it
through, it comes to me that
for once, I did say no.
What’s up with me, anyway?
The Road into Town
Is pretty much deserted this time
of night. I drop over the last dark
hill, pull well off the pavement,
onto the shoulder. Wouldn’t want
some loadie to come along and
smash into the Avalanche.
Guess I’ll leave the keys under
the seat. I think enough to wipe
them off, along with the steering
wheel. Any other fingerprints of mine
would probably be smeared together
with Madison’s. Wonder if she says no.
I know it’s stupid as hell, but now
I’m worried about Mick. It’s a damn
long walk from where I left him.
Oh, well. He deserves it. If he gets
lucky, maybe someone will happen
by. Yeah right. Well after two on
Tuesday morning. Election day.
Better worry about myself. It’s
a long enough walk for me, and
I most definitely better be home
well before the sun comes up.
An Hour’s Walk Home
Back in through the window.
I listen intently, but all’s quiet.
My clothes smell like Mick
so I yank them off, crawl into
bed naked. I don’t usually sleep
in the raw. But I’m high and tired,
and the cool cotton sheets feel
like water. I’m skinny-dipping.
Swimming toward deep, deep
sleep, and I’m afraid to go there.
Because when I wake up again,
it will be tomorrow. The day
everything changes. Better?
Worse? Whichever. Looking
back at this afternoon, not
to mention tonight, I understand
the transformation is already
well underway. And I’m scared.
I Wake to a Hailstorm
Of sound:
Footsteps.
Some
news Slams.
channel.
Daddy.
Mom.
Furniture
Orders scraping.
barked.
The
telephone.
The
Dishes telephone.
crashing.
The
telephone.
The
telephone.
Light Through the Window
Informs me I’ve overslept.
The clock confirms nine twenty-two.
Oh, yeah. Way over. On a normal day,
Daddy would have been in here,
yanking my butt out of bed.
Oh, but this is not a normal day.
I slink out of bed, naked. Naked?
Last night’s clothes are heaped
on the floor. Last night!
Wonder if Mick made it home
yet. Wonder if I’ll hear from him.
Like he could keep his mouth shut.
Oh, well. Not to worry. If he wants
to play rough, I’m up for the game.
Meanwhile, I’ll bask in the memory
of him, moonlight falling on his moon.
Shower. Dress. Wade into the madness.
See if anyone even knows I’m here.
No One Has a Clue
I emerge from my room,
a butterfly from her cocoon,
and no one seems a bit
concerned about the
metamorphosis.
I could spread my wings,
let them dry, then fly
far, far away, and no one
would notice my departure.
I’m a shadow.
Daddy and Mom have
retreated to their separate
rooms to dress for a joint
trip to the polling place,
no longer
at each other’s throats, not
until this day settles into dust.
Wonder if I should just go to
school late, pay my pound of
flesh,
accept detention without
complaint. But how would
I get there? Can’t exactly
call Mick for a ride,
and
I can’t ask my clueless parents.
I look out the window. Hannah’s
home. Delicious. If she’ll take
me, I can draw a little figurative
blood.
Kaeleigh
The Dreaded Day
Has arrived, and with it total
trepidation. Where will my family
be, once it’s all over? What sort of
metamorphosis
will we experience? I’m torn
in two. I mean, most of me hates
everything about my life (except
for Ian, of course). I feel like
I’m a shadow
behind my mother, always
there, but rarely acknowledged.
I love her the way I always
have. How can it be that she
no longer
wants to be my mom? What
have I done? Is it because of
Daddy? Does she know about—
and ignore—his taste for young
flesh,
and not only young flesh, but…
No, that can’t be. When she
heard about Hannah, she flipped,
issued an ultimatum,
and
I’m pretty sure Daddy will
at the very least be much more
careful about his extramarital
fun. Mom is totally out for
blood.
Most of Me
Does hate my life.
But this tiny sliver
is more afraid of what
life might become
than it is of pain,
ever-present now.
At least I recognize
the boundaries imposed
on me. I know how
far to push. I know
when to step back.
I know when to tuck
tail and run. I know
when not to twitch.
I love my mom, hate
when she disappears.
I love when she comes
home, hate when she
hides inside herself.
I hate my father, love
when he puts distance
between us. I hate
how he treats me.
Love when he makes
me feel loved.
School Is My Refuge
At least for today. At least,
most of it. Mr. Lawler chooses
elections as the topic of the day.
Guess who’s front and center.
What can you tell us about your
mother’s political ambitions?
he asks, rather pointedly. Has she
thought beyond this election?
Is he talking like Mom as president
or something? I shrug. “They’re
her ambitions. You should
probably ask her about them.”
He smiles. Fair enough. So
what about you? How do you
feel about your mother running
for Congress? Are you proud of her?
I really wish he would quit
shining the spotlight on me.
How am I supposed to answer?
“How else would I feel, Mr. Lawler?”
My tone tells him to change
the subject, and he moves on
to infamous elections in the
distant and not-so-distant past.
I Couldn’t Care Less
About any election, including
the one going on right now.
All I can think about is seeing
Ian. We have drama today, so
we’ll get to rehearse together.
Not that I’ve had a lot of time
to practice lately. I’ll probably
blow every line. But at least
the romantic scenes should take
on an air of definite credibility.
I’m stuck in thoughts of dramatic
interpretation when the door opens.
It’s some office intern, with a hall pass.
For me. Your mom’s here to pick you up.
Everyone stares as I gather my stuff.
Mr. Lawler waves me out the door
and resentment builds inside me.
I know I’m off to be presented
as familial bling, when all I want
is to be left way alone. With Ian.
Bling for a Day
That’s me. Photo this. Interview
that. And every damn word is a lie.
“Of course I’m very excited about
my mother’s prospects today….”
The whole thing fills me with dread.
“Oh yes, I think she deserves to win.
She’ll work for positive change….”
For the country, if not for me.
“Well, if she doesn’t win, she’ll try
again, I’m sur
e. This is her dream….”
Does she still dream? I’m not sure.
“The best part of the experience? I guess
seeing politics in action. I’ve learned a lot….”
There is no best part of this experience.
“The worst part? Having her away so
much, I suppose….”
The worst part? That she so wants to go.
The Afternoon Ticks By
By eight, when the polls close,
the house has filled with people,
good Republicans all. I swear,
I’m registering Dem. That will
make it just that much easier
to never vote for my parents.
Daddy is up for reelection in two
years, and he’s sure working
Mom’s crowd now. He’s not
about to play bling when there’s
so much Money floating around
the living room, drinking Dom
Pérignon and nibbling canapés.
Ranchers. Winemakers. Small
business owners. Developers.
All might one day call in favors
for the votes they no doubt cast
today. Then there are cops.
Prison guards. Other judges.
And, oh yes, there’s the mayor,
a stout, youngish conservative
who rubber-stamps growth—
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