When the reigning pols agree,
he is crucified. Hung on a cross
to die, while former followers cheer.
Sounds like some modern politicians.
Hope they never have to rely on resurrection.
I Sit With Mom And Dad
Near the front of the church.
Not sure how much of the Easter
story either of them really believes.
Pure light and boundless love
don’t seem to relate much to Mom,
who sits straight-backed and ice-cold
in her chair. Dad, at least, sings
the liturgy and semi-tunes in to
the pastor’s remarks.… He died
so that we, no matter our lifestyles
or challenges or histories, might live,
free from judgment or sorrow, forever.
No matter our lifestyles. Was that
directed specifically toward me?
Free from judgment. What I find
particularly funny about that is
how judged I felt at the party Friday
night. Hard enough coming to terms
with the label “lesbian,” without
somehow having to prove that you
are “lesbian enough.” Dani thought
it was funny. Come on. Don’t take
it seriously. They’re just jealous.
Easier to call you a fake than to try
and wear jeans as well as you do.
Anyway, if you need validation, I think
you’re a total lez. You don’t need
to look like a boy to prove it. Now
let’s discuss what you do need to do
to prove it. We were in her car
and it had started to snow by then.
We drove to a far corner of the Rancho
San Rafael parking lot, and as dime-
size flakes turned to quarter-size,
curtaining the glass, Dani showed me
what it takes to make love to a girl.
It Is Yielding
Flesh, lush and tender as June
peaches. It is giving, gracious,
respectful. And though I lacked
experience, Dani was forgiving,
taught me what I asked to know,
left me to discover what I could.
Her kisses were typhoon, wind,
rain and lightning, storming into
open windows. She blanketed me
with velvet skin, pillowed me with
exotic perfume, lifted me onto a cloud
just one breath away from heaven.
I couldn’t say no. Didn’t say stop.
I wanted more. Wanted to go on
forever, even after the first burst of rain.
Even then, I begged for downpour.
Afterward
Iced April air touching our heated
skin and lifting, steam, I shattered
beneath the weight of identity.
Shards of uncertainty scattered,
dissipated with each frosty exhale.
Tears too long held inside dropped,
crystals encasing half-truths. Secrets.
Candor would not be denied, and
I told her everything—how I had kept
my virginity until I needed to be sure.
How I teased Sean. Challenged him,
even, only to change my mind. How I
pleaded with him to stop, the end result.
I thought she would chastise me,
say I deserved what I got. Instead
anger billowed up in her eyes.
Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. Goddamn
him to hell. Guys like that deserve
a noncommutable sentence of
castration. But why didn’t you tell?
I have to think about it. “The last
few months have been so hard,
with my brother and all. I didn’t
want more upheaval, you know?”
You mean external upheaval.
But what about the craziness inside?
Promise, no matter what, you’ll
never shut yourself off from me.
And what’s going on with your
brother? I had never mentioned
Conner to her either. The subject
just hadn’t ever come up. It has now.
Despite only spilling to one person
before, I told Dani everything about
my twin and why he ended up where
he did. Well, she asked for it. I even
proposed my guilt. “I knew he was
messing around with his teacher.
If I would have told, maybe… he…”
Confessing that encouraged a new
round of tears. By then maybe, just
maybe, I was feeling sorry for
myself. But then again, why? Hadn’t
Dani just allowed me to put to one side
the people in my life who I don’t have
the power to save? Which brings me
back to church. Back to Pastor’s words.
I’m not a savior. And even he, who so
many believe was the Savior, was strung
up to die. Maybe it’s time to save myself.
On my left, my mother continues to pray
only for herself. On my right, Dad is still
impossible to read. How do I confess
to either this momentous revelation?
All the strength I felt just moments ago,
every iota of elation, deflates. I am zero.
They Don’t Have To Know
Right now. Or maybe ever. Pretty sure
Mom couldn’t care less if I marry.
And if I have kids, it will make her old.
Not the way to impress her friend flock.
I drop my head for the benediction—
the final prayer that says we can go
home. When I lift it again, I notice
Dad has turned to stare at someone
sitting in the foyer, Easter Sunday
overflow. It’s Conner. Escaped from
Aspen Springs, hungry for communion?
No, he’s flanked by some burly bruiser
and a cute, dark-haired guy who
looks very at ease here. More so than
Conner, who looks close to panic,
especially as Dad nears the door.
Mom hangs back, her motive
unclear. Is it out of respect for
Conner’s space? Or is it because
of fear? If so, what is she afraid of?
Not Sure, In Fact
Who looks more afraid, Conner
or Mom. The sanctuary empties,
and everyone crowds the food table.
I see Dad shake Conner’s hand, say
something that makes Conner nod.
If I can make my way through
the meadow of people, I should
probably say something too. Not
that I know exactly what. “You look
great, for a crazy person?” Maybe
not. I turn to Mom, who hangs back
behind me. “Aren’t you going to say hi?”
She straightens, draws herself up as
tall as she can, elevates her chin,
lifts her nose into the lily-scented
air. I suppose it is expected of me.
Expectations. Again. Wonder who
she’ll be more disappointed in—
her suicidal, no-longer-perfect son.
Or his twin, the not-quite-out lesbian.
Kendra
Disappointment
Can do a couple of things.
It can drop you into a giant
sucking sinkhole of
depression,
a place you have to fight
to climb out of. Or it
can trigger an epic
mania
to overcome t
he odds
and transform failure
into success. Say you
swing
as high as the chains will
take you because you seek
the thrill of flight, and on the
up-
kick, you lose your seat.
Injury is likely. But if you
worry about falling
down,
and never chance “up,”
the sky will remain
forever out of reach.
Reaching For The Sky
Is not such a hard thing to do, not
when everyone around you keeps
promising you have what it takes
to touch it someday. I’ve always believed
I can. But I’ve known for a long time
that it’s a long way up to that patch of blue,
and sometimes it takes extraordinary
measures to reach the stratosphere. Today
I’m going for broke. Mom drives me to
the hospital. Are you nervous, honey?
“Uh, let’s see. She’s going to make an
incision in that flap that divides my nostrils.
Then she’s going to pull my nose skin
up between my eyes, exposing the bone
and cartilage. Two hours restructuring
those, and hopefully when she returns the skin
to its normal position, all will be well.
What could go wrong, right?” I watched
an animation of the entire procedure.
It should have made me feel more secure
about everything. Instead I almost puked.
God, I hope she doesn’t have a problem
reattaching my skin. I almost went and
read horror stories about rhinoplasty.
Decided that wasn’t such a great idea,
considering I am not going to change
my mind. So I just swallowed megadoses
of vitamins C and E, which should help
the swelling and bruising. Asked (as opposed
to Jenna’s “borrowing” method) Mom for one
of her Xanax so I could sleep last night.
No food or water after midnight. (No problem.)
And here we are, pulling into a parking
space, headed toward a surgical suite and
my skin-peeled-from-my-face adventure.
Am I nervous? Not at all! Just hope I don’t
actually haul off and vomit all over
myself. That might turn the old doc off.
Okay, then. Here we go. How exciting!
Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.
Through the big glass doors, into
the elevator, and up six floors. My legs
are a little shaky, but whether that’s from
nerves or lack of food, I can’t say for sure.
I didn’t eat anything at all yesterday.
It’s getting easier. Practice makes perfect.
I Don’t Have To Wait Long
A nurse comes to get me, hands Mom
some papers to sign. “See you on the other
side.” I follow the chubby nurse,
wondering how a health-care professional
could let herself go like that. Doesn’t
she know it’s unhealthy to be overweight?
Oh well. She’s nice enough. Put these on.
You can change in there. And you can
leave your panties on, if it makes you more
comfortable. Under a hospital gown, lacking
anything that resembles a back? The panties
will definitely remain on. Everything else
comes off. The gown is actually designer,
by hospital standards. Blue and pink swirls,
instead of the usual white. The hairnet
and booties are white, however. Nondesigner.
When I come out of the bathroom, Dr.
Kane is waiting. How are you feeling?
Do you have any questions for me?
When I say no, she points to a wheel-
chair. Your chariot awaits. We’ll take
you down to the OR and introduce
you to Cheryl, your anesthesiologist.
She’ll give you a local at the IV
site, so you shouldn’t feel the needle,
which can be a bit uncomfortable.
I expect an orderly to be my driver.
But Dr. Kane does the steering herself.
Here we are. Get in the chair and I’ll be
back when you’re asleep. See you after.
No table for this operation. It’s a state-
of-the-art recliner. I climb up into it. Wait.
Unlike The Nurse
The anesthesiologist is built like a praying
mantis—tall, slender, and strong-armed.
Hello, Kendra. I’m Cheryl. She comes
over, shakes my hand. I want you to…
She looks at me. Looks at my chart.
I thought you’d be shorter. Weight,
one hundred nine pounds. Says here
you’re five foot ten. That can’t be right.
“That’s right. I know, I’ve still got
a few pounds to drop. But I’ll get there.”
Her eyes hold concern. Honey, you
do not need to drop an ounce.
She rolls back the baggy sleeves, checks
out my arms. Ditto the hem of the gown,
running her fingers along my legs.
Then she studies the backs of my hands.
My wrists. The inside curves of my elbows.
She tsks. Hang tight. I’ll be right back.
Sweat pops out on my forehead in hot
little beads. I don’t think I like the direction
that just went. It’s a long several minutes
before Cheryl returns, towing Dr. Kane.
She stomps over to me. Would you please
take a look at this? You have to have
noticed! Cheryl pulls at the hospital gown.
You’re a doctor, for Christ’s sake.
Dr. Kane bristles. What are you talking a—
But when she sees my shoulders, she gasps.
Suddenly, exposed, I’m freezing.
I start to shiver. My entire body shakes.
Get her a blanket, Cheryl. Kendra, are
you eating at all? You are skin and bones.
Shame And Anger
Collide inside me, roil together.
“Of course I eat. I need to be thin,
though. Xavier says I’m almost there,
too. The big contracts are coming.”
Cheryl wraps a thermal blanket
around my shoulders. Blessed warmth.
Whoever this Xavier fellow is, she says,
you’d better quit listening to him.
Dr. Kane butts in. Kendra, I know
you want to model. But what’s going
on here isn’t about modeling. You are
seriously emaciated. If you keep this up,
you’re at risk for anemia, arrhythmia,
and osteopenia. And have you had
a period lately? Unfortunately, we will
have to postpone the rhinoplasty.…
“No! Why? Look, I promise to eat,
okay?” Why are they on me like this?
Honey, there’s no way I will administer
anesthesia to you, says Cheryl. You must
be at a healthy weight or there could
be serious consequences.…
“Are you saying if some skinny person
needed an operation to save his life
you wouldn’t administer anesthesia
until he plumped up first? That’s stupid.”
She looks at me with gentle eyes.
A rhinoplasty isn’t necessary
to save your life. But maybe coming
in for one today did. I hope so.
/> Save My Life?
What is she talking about? I’m fine.
Okay, maybe I haven’t had a period
in a few months. It did scare me
for a while, right after Conner and I…
But the pregnancy tests were
negative. And anyway, what’s so
bad about skipping a few monthly
bloodlettings? “Look. I’m really okay.”
Dr. Kane shakes her head. Get dressed.
Then we can discuss how to proceed.
Cheryl, when she’s ready, please
bring her back to my office. Kendra,
can I get you something? Some cocoa,
maybe? It might warm you up.
It’s a test. “Sure. Hot chocolate would
be great.” Three hundred calories great.
Cheryl Escorts Me
To Dr. Kane’s office, where the good
doctor is in deep conversation with Mom.
Wonderful. Come in for a nose job.
Walk out with a confirmed eating disorder.
Sit down, please. Dr. Kane hands me
a steaming Styrofoam cup. Enjoy.
Chocolate. God. I haven’t tasted it
in months. One sip, I’m totally buzzed.
Mom keeps checking me out. Kendra,
Dr. Kane is extremely worried about you.
She is recommending inpatient treatment.
I told her we can handle it at home. Am I right?
Good old Mom. “Of course. I tried
to tell her I’m fine.” To prove it, I take
a long, loud slurp of cocoa. I hope it
doesn’t make me sick. “Can we go now?”
Sean
Sick
To your stomach—gas churning
in an empty well. That’s
how
it feels with her gone. Sick
in the head, much too
much
cerebral carnage. Brain cells
Perfect - 02 Page 20
