by Monroe, Anya
“Where’s Jess?”
“She couldn’t make it. Out of town, I guess.”
“Well, I’m thrilled you’re here, Louisa! Did you hear Leah?”
“The girl who just went? Yeah. She was amazing. The room was totally silent listening to her.”
Margot wears a white blouse
with hearts
lining the sleeves, skintight leather pants,
she looks like
she’s got it all
figured out.
“So talented, right? I want you to meet some of my peeps, follow me.”
She winds me through the maze of people
all ages
but all
the same.
Each one here
hoping to hear something
that would mean something
to them.
And you could just tell by the way they stood
or held hands
that they somehow land-
ed here for a reason.
I’m glad I wore knee-high boots
instead of two-inch heels because it’s
standing room only.
The noise still electrifying
and it isn’t music, it
is the sound
of pure energy pulsing around the crowd.
“This is my co-worker and darling friend, Louisa.”
Margot introduces me to
Lindsey and Tabitha, Jacob and Carly.
All people I won’t remember except
for the fact
that they all smile at me.
Look me in the eye.
The part that avoids contact
pulls toward it.
Grabs hold of it
like a lifeline.
Toby was there with his boyfriend
and he introduced me as his “Work BFF”
which made me blush
like I had a sugar rush.
What would these people think if they knew
I’m a girl who spent her childhood
locked in a room
giving my due
for all his misdeeds
that I paid for?
God, I’m glad they know me
as:
Margot’s friend.
It’s the safest place to be.
It’s the safest place to stand.
107.
She goes on stage last
the final act
the grand finale
the bee’s knees
the queen honeybee
the one most free.
She’s looking at me.
“I wanted to give a shout-out to my friend, Louisa, who’s here with me tonight. She’s a talented poet herself and thank you for making her feel welcome in this magical community of spoken word performers. Also, I’m honored to give the last performance of the year!”
The lights go off
and the room goes still
save for the guitar player on her left
who offers a beat to the moment
a beat to the current
that flows around
us
all.
“She lays still.
Still enough to hold
but instead she folds
over
and under
and in between.
Life and death
“Don’t want you to resurrect
me,” she says when I try.
Try and find a way to help her stand.
She won’t let me hold her hand.
The beginning started off so well.
The two of ‘em, boy meets girl.
He looks nice and neat
makes her wanna talk sweet.
Never thought he’d put her in a livin’ Hell.
Hell on earth is what it feels like
when you are just the sister
trying to find a way to hold
on tight.
Wanna give a good fair fight
for the one
who had faith in you
gonna see you through.
When she starts breaking
into pieces
too many to find, some pieces so small
shards broken again by the fall.
Doesn’t feel like I will ever win
her back to the side of life.
I was just a girl back then. Dropping out
never wanting to finish
gypsy girl heart of mine
never knew what I’d find
when I stopped for a minute.
I had my mind set on playing hard to get
get it quick
in and out never thinking about
the power of being around
for her.
That night when she was found on the ground
bruised and beat
body so weak
lying in the street
after her boyfriend of too many years
decided he didn’t care
about how the night might end.
The only way he felt power was to crush her
hurt her with his hands.
No wonder that now she’s broken
she won’t let me hold her fragile hand.
Won’t let me help her stand.
No.
When you get hurt like that
broke like that
you can’t fight back.
All you can do is hide down low
deep inside, how low can you go?
She found out.
When I went to get her in the hospital,
before you may have thought the broken heart
was the worst of it;
but honey that’s the first of it.
There is:
Broken ribs
Leg
Head
Hand
How could she even withstand
the injury?
Thank God they found her and
brought her to me.
I’ll take care of her forever, it seems.
‘Cause she’s ripped at the seams.
Broken bodies
and souls don’t get fixed overnight.
We have no Mom or Dad to help us,
no, those fuck-ups were gone a long time ago.
It’s always been the two of us
and now she’s in my care.
All I can do is stare
at this broken woman before me.
Who, when I was little, was always
my safe hold
my gatekeeper
my lighthouse
never leave the house without
person.
And now she’s too broken for me
to hold.
She just lays there
still
as I fight for her recovery
the whole time she’s in my custody.
I don’t know the first thing about fixing
broken people.
I spent my life wandering around
never keeping my feet on the ground
lost not wanting to be found.
Now it’s different.
I have her
and she needs me
and in her brokenness
I become whole
in my wholeness
she can be healed
in her healing
we can be strong
in our strength we
rediscover our greatest defense:
One another.”
108.
The room is loud again.
It was so quiet for a minute there
when Margot was speaking to the beat
louder each time she wanted to emphasize
hypnotize
mesmerize
me the audience.
I look around as the lights come on.
Ms. Francine stands
in the back of the room
crying.
I watch as Margot goes over
hugs
her tight.
Those two women such an unlikely pair.
Margot wearing her emotions literally on her sleeve
a person so extreme.
Ms. Francine
only five years older,
but a lifetime wiser.
Even though Margot always seems
to have it all figured out
somehow I doubt
she got there on her own.
After hearing Margot tonight
I realize there’s more to Ms. F
than I gave her credit for
I was so busy trying to
ignore
everything and everyone
but me.
I’ve been to blind too see
her for who she
really is.
109.
“Did you have a good time, Louisa?”
Ms. Francine drives me home
after the show.
“Yeah. Thanks again for taking me, did it ruin your plans.”
“My plans aren’t ruined. Besides it isn’t even eleven o’clock yet. The night’s still young.” She smiles, looks over at me
as she drives on the freeway. “Do you have any intentions, something you want to work toward in the New Year?”
I can’t answer her.
I saw her crying back
at the club.
I want to know how she stood up again
after being broke down.
I want to know how I can do the same.
I want to ask her if that’s why
she’s alone
taking broken kids into her home.
I want to ask her if that is why
she cares about me
if it’s because she can see
parts of
me
I try
so hard
to
hide?
“Um. I want to…um…I don’t know? I guess I need to think about it.”
It is all I can formulate
articulate
compensate.
“Well, let me know if you come up with any. I’m going to type mine up and tape them to the fridge.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know.”
And I would.
Just as soon as
I figure out
what I want.
110.
I’ve tried to call him
seventeen times.
I’ve left messages
with the secretary at the “home”
with his counselor
with the social worker guy
and still the machine tells me to leave
a message
after the tone.
So I do.
Again.
“Benji, hey it’s Louisa. I just wanted to call and wish you a happy New Year. I’ve called before, but I guess I keep missing you. I love you.”
I hang up.
Missing him on the first day of
The New Year.
111.
I hate going back to school
after a break.
Even though I’ve been working at the 6-Spot
nonstop
it’s so much better than class.
I don’t have to face Jess
at work.
I open the fridge to get breakfast.
Yogurt and strawberries.
I shut the door and see
Ms. F’s
typed list posted clear as day.
NEW YEARS INTENTIONS:
Exercise more
Okay, I get that, that’s like everyone’s’ resolution
Apply to a program to earn my Master’s Degree
I thought she had a job?
Go on a big road trip
Where does she want to go?
Get back in contact with M.
Who’s M? Why’s she being so cryptic?
Roommate???
Roommate? Is she going to get rid of me?
Suddenly I’m too worked up
to eat breakfast.
If Ms. F hadn’t left for work I’d
probably blow up at her
tell her
what I thought about her list
posted for me to see
that she was planning on living a
life without me.
Whatever.
And what?
If she were here like
I’d really just walk up to
her and say what the fuck?
I don’t do confrontation.
Whatever.
I run to the bus.
112.
Jess avoids me like the plague.
Great.
It’s not like I expected otherwise.
I’m obviously good at
pushing all the people
who matter away.
Live life on the fray.
Why the hell am I still
thinking about Ms. F anyway?
God.
This day is seriously sucking
and then I see
Markus
and he walks up to me
in the hallway and says, “Don’t be such a bitch, Louisa.”
I turn away
because I deserve it
and tears burn
my eyes
and I brush them away
thinking this
is such a shitty day.
113.
It gets worse.
My appointment with my mom
turns into an appointment with
Terry and the social worker guy
and some other lady who’s sitting at the table with
a file folder
the size
of her ass.
Big.
And my mom is
NOT PRESENT
We are gathered here today
they say
formally
I look at Terry warily
who looks at me with
sympathy,
but it feels an awful lot like
pity.
My stomach turns.
I know what’s coming.
I grip my stomach because I just know.
I haven’t been in the system
for two years
with a dad in prison for
rape, molestation,
physicalmentalemotional
abuse
and not know what’s coming
when a mom consistently never shows
up
after her son has
a suicide attempt.
There isn’t much left
for me
to hold
onto
except my own
two hands.
I press them against my stomach
the one that’s turning
churning
burning
with the
fear I’ve known would come
but
now is here.
I run
to the bathroom
find a toilet, quick,
as I
throw up
what’s left of me.
Not much.
114.
I walk back in the meeting room
more prepared
better aware
of what’s going on
now that everything else got
out.
The toilet flushed.
Down the pipes went
my guts.
Royally.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
The room nods their heads
simultaneously.
The symmetry makes me smile.
God, it’s been awhile.
I guess when all is lost
what you gain
is attitude.
“It’s okay, Louisa. We wanted to have a conversation with you today about some things that are going on behind the scenes, that affect you.”
The next sixty minutes pass
Blah.
Blah.
Blah.
Fuck this shit.
Mom is not complying with the plan.
Mom is not taking the mandated classes.
Mom is not stepping up to the plate.
Mom is not coming back for you.
Mom never wanted to.
Mom
Is
Gone.
A hearing is set.
Do you understand that?
“YES.”
I scream at the row of talking heads.
Yes. I understand that.
I can tell Terry is taken aback. You know
by my word.
The voice she heard.
“Do you have any questions, Louisa?” she asks.
Do I have any questions?
What the fuck am I supposed to ask?
You know all that depressed girl
repressed girl
broken and confused girl
thing
I had done for the past sixteen years?
I think that’s over.
Gone.
Just like Mom.
And the person that’s forming
from my empty gut
doesn’t seem as sweet
here let me sweep
under your feet
and wipe your ass
and wash your floors
with my unshed tears.
No, this girl
is fierce.
“I don’t have any questions. Just tell me where to show up to watch this disappearing act say her final good bye.”
Then I walk out the door.
115.
I try to call Benji
again.
For the eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth time.
I leave the same line
on the machine.
Only it’s getting more desperate
as I realize all I am about to lose
as I realize there isn’t anything
or anyone
left for me to choose
left to fight for.
Left to be strong for.
