OCD, The Dude, and Me
Page 9
Anyway, I wasn’t paying attention, and I tripped and fell right over Jacob. He fell, too. Everyone laughed but kept on walking and there we were, Jacob and I, on the ground. I expected him to say something like “Hey, watch out” or “What the hell are you doing?”, but he didn’t. Instead, I said something stupid. I said this: “You should have just drank the toilet water!” I don’t know where the words came from. They just came out. All my complicated feelings for him came out in the line, “You should have just drank the toilet water!” And then I did something even worse. I started to cry. Luckily, the rest of the group kept walking, and miraculously, Jacob didn’t walk away.
“What?” he said. I was some other being in that moment, someone who actually, I guess, had something to say.
“You should have drank the toilet water in that hotel room in Canada instead of doing what you did.” And then he looked at me while I cried for a little while longer.
When he spoke, his words appeared like a typed message across the clear tablet of my mind. I can see them now. He said, “Look, Danielle, why would I have drank the toilet water? Why would I do that? That would have been totally disgusting. It didn’t even occur to me to drink that instead of touching you. I thought I was being as gentle as I possibly could, and I just touched you. There wasn’t anything disgusting to me about that. I’m really sorry it pissed that guy off, but I thought he knew I didn’t mean anything bad. I really, really didn’t. I’m sorry, Danielle.”
And then I tried really hard to speak again, but the me that had something to say just left. This was all I could get out: “I just . . . I just . . . it’s just.” And then Jacob saved me from myself right there.
“I don’t know why you don’t give yourself any credit. You are what you are, Danielle, and it’s fine. It’s cool. I mean no one in this class can wear hats like you do. It’s cool.”
I don’t know, maybe in this case writing it down makes it lose some of its impact. I don’t know if I can fully explain even to myself in words just how much better that all made me feel. But it did. I forgave him for feeling me up. I forgave myself for thinking he was trying to humiliate me. I don’t know, I just stopped being angry about it, and even though it seems like just a small little thing . . . it felt like a big, awesome thing.
*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 3/11
First E-mail (#1) from Aunt Joyce after England trip
Sweet Danielle,
I have to hear everything about your trip! I am very interested in who you are after that experience. We’ll talk soon.
Your Forever Aunt Joyce
P.S. As for your question about whether or not I’ve been kissed passionately in a picturesque setting, the answer is yes. However, before you get too jealous or excited, I want to point out that it was with Claude that guy I met in Paris who was sexy and affectionate but who, I subsequently learned, was only that way from taking Ecstasy. So, see, not all fantasies are as great as you imagine.
*JUSTINE LETTER* 3/12
Letter #1 to Justine that I write when I get back to California
Dear Justine,
It’s Danielle. Remember me? I am the redheaded girl that you had over to your house for lunch when you gave my class a tour of Canterbury. My lunch with you was one of my favorite parts of the whole trip. I really want to thank you for that. I’m not sure I properly thanked you when I was with you because I was just so awestruck by you, your home, and your life.
I remember everything you told me over lunch, and there was one thing that really stuck with me. You told me that Bubbles didn’t join the army like he was supposed to, and that reminded me of a book I read, and I guess I just want to tell you about it. Maybe you’ll want to read the book because I noticed you had a lot of books around your place. The book is called The Things They Carried, and it’s by Tim O’Brien, who was a soldier in the Vietnam War. He struggled with his decision to go to Vietnam and he even thought about going to Canada, which many people would have considered cowardly at the time.
Tim O’Brien wrote in his book that “I survived, but it’s not a happy ending. I was a coward. I went to war.” (Sometimes I remember certain things perfectly and forever. Like those words, which I know were on page 61.) When you were talking about Bubbles, it made me think of that line because Bubbles did something that some people would call cowardly and other people would call brave. One decision, two totally different perspectives. Very baffling.
Well, I hope you are doing well in Canterbury and enjoying the tours you are giving. I also hope you don’t have to give too many tours to wild high school kids like us (LOL—that means laugh out loud).
Sincerely,
Danielle
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter #1 from Marv to me after the school trip
Danielle,
How was your trip and your spring break? How are you doing? Anything you’d like to discuss after that experience?
Marv
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter #1 from me to Marv after school trip written during lunch
(I get brave)
Marv,
Have you ever been felt up by a boy you really liked on a dare? Have you ever known such pure humiliation and objectification? Pretend this question is for literary purposes only. How you respond will tell me a lot about you and determine whether or not I will ever trust you again. No pressure.
Danielle
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter #2 from Marv to me after the trip
Danielle,
I have not experienced that particular brand of shame, but that does not mean I have avoided shame altogether. When I was in high school, I was deeply (and I mean deeply) in love with a woman who was quite a bit older than me and who cast a certain spell over me. She was, in every way, a goddess. In my mind, she still is. One day, I saw fit to tell her just how transfixed I was in her presence. I’ll spare you all the details, but she literally laughed in my face. She was sure I was telling her these things on a childish dare. She threw a lamp at me and told me never to speak to her again. I didn’t. Every time I was around her, I looked at the ground. To this day, I wince when I think about the incident. Frankly, it was difficult for me to write to you about it.
Marv
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter #2 from me to Marv after the trip
Marv,
Then you understand that Love is one cruel bitch.
Danielle
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter #3 from Marv to me
Danielle,
Yes, Danielle, indeed I do.
Marv
*MENTAL HEALTH MISSIVE* 3/19
Letter #2 for the Commitment Hearing Committee regarding my social skills class
Dear Commitment Hearing Committee (who I am sure I am appearing before because of the social skills class I was forced to attend by my therapist and parents. Please refer to first letter to you for more details regarding this travesty.)
I had a week of what I would characterize as “semifun” with my peers in England, and then I had a spring break where I rested and felt just shy of normal most of the time and where I completely forgot about the fact that I would have to attend a social skills class when I returned. Charles, Megan, Andy, and Iggie will, I’m sure, be committed to some maximum-security facility before I will, so perhaps the committee has met them already. They are a quartet of social mismanagement, and I just hate being named in any group with them.
Megan’s mom comes to the class with her and sits until her daughter “gets acclimated.” Megan wears very big sweaters and hides beneath them. If I had her body I would live forever in a nudist colony.
Andy and Charles ride the bus together to get here and show up covered in grease; they work on cars all day. They both have long hair that they let hang in front of their faces. I think so maybe Lisa can’t see them. I gotta admire that move, I guess.
I can’t make any sense out of Iggie whose chair was yet again littered with all the paper creatures he folds and rip
s and talks to during the two-hour nightmare that is this class. It is possible, however, that he is a savant and these paper thingies may be brilliant works of art.
Daniel is an island all to himself, and I don’t think he’ll end up committed like the rest of us, so I didn’t mention his name at the beginning of this missive. I’m not even sure why he needs to be here.
Today, Lisa made us discuss the differences between what we wish our lives were like and what they are currently like. I was irritated at the assumption that all of us wished our lives were different. (I’m sure we all do, but still, I hate that this woman, who I don’t know, is so acutely aware of that pain in all of us.) I didn’t say anything to her about my irritation but Daniel did. He said the question was “arrogant, pointed, and judgmental,” that all of us had to “lay bare certain vulnerabilities that we, as a group, were not ready to do,” and if Lisa had been doing this line of work for any substantive length of time, she would know that and he resented being an early case in her career. Honestly, Daniel rocks.
Lisa listened to Daniel but didn’t change her line of questioning. She sat perfectly up in her too bright suit and continued, “Sooo, who would like to start . . . Danielle?”
I forced this response: “Everybody’s life is a series of what is versus what we wish it was, isn’t it? Is there anybody who has everything just the way they like it?”
But then she reminded me that we were taking this moment in time to talk about my particular life and so could I please be specific about mine.
Sigh and continue.
“I want to be twenty pounds lighter.”
And then a whole lot of language came out of Lisa. Language about how that was a brave statement, how that is something that can be accomplished, goals can be set, and changes can be made incrementally . . . blah, blah, blah, blah, blah . . . I heard some of it but stopped listening until Daniel said, “Yeah, she can do all that and maybe feel better and be more social, but then there will be something after that. Like she won’t like her hair color, which I really dig, by the way, or she’ll want a whole new wardrobe. I mean the other response you could have given her was that she could consider that she’s fine just the way she is, that everyone comes to this planet in a different package, and the one she has is pretty okay. That’s what I would have said if I was wearing the russet suit and carrying the master’s degree.”
And then there was this whole exchange between Daniel and Lisa about how Daniel always chooses to be contrary and how that creates conflict in relationships and he may want to consider that there are other ways of looking at things than his way, and Daniel told her she should try swallowing some of the medicine she was doling out. It’s really obvious that Lisa can’t stand Daniel. I think Daniel may actually like Lisa in a strange way because she brings out this side of him that he enjoys. I don’t know, that’s just my opinion. At one point, I turned and gave Daniel a smile as a way of thanking him for taking up my cause. He gave me a supportive nod.
After that, I kind of drifted off into another world so I didn’t have to be in this one, in a church basement that smelled of old cigarettes and burned coffee, feeling lost among people who I know in my heart are brethren.
*#1 AUNT JOYCE JOURNAL* 3/24
My talk with her
Aunt Joyce came over to see me and talk to me about the trip. My whole family had dinner in the dining room where Joyce commented on Mom’s cheery choice of yellow walls and the vase of red spring flowers she keeps on the table. Mom has style just like Aunt Joyce. After dinner, Aunt Joyce and I went up into my room so we could pull out the vintage clothes from the back of the closet and try stuff on.
I mainly just put on different hats while I talked about Justine, but Joyce was having fun stepping in and out of dresses.
Finally, she said, “Lady, give me the teenage dirt.”
I gave her this very wide-eyed look and she read my mind.
“What happened? . . . Did you kiss someone?”
“How did you know? OMIGOD.”
“Perimenopausal women have killer instincts. Spill it.”
“Well, it wasn’t all that. It was pretty much like The Romantic Era’s lyric ‘Your kiss is cold, my mind is numb.’ Yeah, it ended up being exactly that but, whatever, at least I can say I’ve been kissed.”
“Ah, life will never be the same.”
“Well, it got worse from there. The guy I kissed took off when Jacob, the boy I’m in love with, felt me up. Jacob didn’t want to feel me up; he had to or else he’d have to drink toilet water. So, there it is, my sex life in a nutshell.”
Aunt Joyce laughed and got a few more details out of me and then said, “You know what, my sex life boils down to similar tales but with adult players. You’re gonna be fine, kid. Just fine. Give it a little time for the bruises to heal. Oh, I almost forgot. Come with me to my car. I found two old parasols for us. Let’s get them and walk about in the garden.”
More than anyone I know, Aunt Joyce takes things that I think are unmitigated disasters and shrinks them down to manageable size.
*MENTAL HEALTH MISSIVE* 3/26
Letter #3 for the Commitment Hearing Committee (So they know my fall into total mental illness was the result of extenuating circumstances set loose by adults who were supposed to be helping me.)
Dear CHC,
Just to be clear, I am writing this letter during my social skills class. I have been allowed to bring my journal in here because Lisa has no idea what she’s doing and thinks each of us should be allowed “to find pure expression in any context.” (Whatever that means.) Along with my journal, I brought four of my hats, just in case I need them. Lisa keeps talking about how spring has sprung and it is a time of rebirth and renewal or whatever, and I just want to keep writing to keep myself distracted so I miss most of what she’s saying.
Charles has brought his guitar, and I have to say that it is so distracting to have him accent people’s talking with riffs. He’s not very good. Megan makes beaded necklaces; Andy rubs his hands obsessively on his pants. (What kind of expression is that? Shouldn’t she give him a stress ball or something? That’s what Ms. Harrison would do.) Iggie, nothing new, is making origami animals, and Daniel is drawing huge penises and deformed vaginas in a sketch pad. It’s very disturbing but I can’t stop looking. He keeps looking over at me and smiling so I know he knows that I know what he’s doing.
A moment ago, I stopped writing when I heard Lisa say that we were going to go around the room and share any dreams we’ve had lately. She’s going to “interpret” these dreams to see if anything hidden in our subconscious is revealing something important to us. Oh, I can’t wait for my turn. I am, right now, counting the tiles on the floor.
So Daniel’s dream was hilarious, and I don’t for a second think it is one he really had. Lisa is so dim because she gave it all kinds of attention. Daniel said he was wandering in the desert for forty days and forty nights (he’s not a Jew), and all he came across were giant, tall, prickly cacti that he couldn’t touch. He was starving and he knew the cacti had “juicy meat with gooey centers,” but he couldn’t touch them because of the stickers. In between the cacti in the sand were these oblong holes he kept jumping over because dangerous, biting snakes that squirted red venom were hidden inside. When he woke up, he realized he had a wet dream. (OMG.) Lisa turned all shades of embarrassed. She didn’t ask him one question about penises and vaginas, which is totally what I would have done! Shit, it’s my turn soon. I have to stop writing so I can fabricate a dream here.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 3/27
Essay #13: Reflecting on the School Trip
(What I bravely turn in despite the fact that I know this is not the essay that Ms. Harrison is looking for. My winning grade streak is over. D.)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
The administration of the school needs to get some perspective.
While it was way bad that James
got that tattoo in Canterbury, it was not bad that you’ve had a tattoo on your wrist for I don’t know how long. I can be sure that you did not get it while being chaperoned to another country. Your tattoo looks like a lovely flower bracelet, and it says something in another language that I don’t know but that I am sure has real meaning for you.
Since the spring break, we’ve all noticed that you’ve been covering up your tattoo with a bandage. What we all used to just ignore has become a hot topic of conversation. I will admit that my mind drifted during your class as a result of that bandage. (I listened to what you said about King Lear as best I could, I want you to know, but the bandage was a major distraction.) Why is it covered now? What happened? We overheard some other teachers saying you got in trouble because James got a tattoo and the administration thinks it’s your fault.
I can tell you right now that you weren’t the reason James got the tattoo. James doesn’t think that deep. He’s just a free spirit.
Is the administration using you as a scapegoat? I don’t want you to end up like Lee Harvey Oswald!
Teacher comments: I wanted you to focus on your experience on the trip. No need to obsess on mine.
*#1 GOOD SCHOOL JOURNAL* 3/28
(A real conversation with a classmate during the nutrition break)
While sitting alone at nutrition and putting the finishing touches on my NYC skyline that has turned in to a sweeping landscape across the table now that it’s this late in the year, Keira sat down next to me with her books.