Two Girls Staring at the Ceiling
Page 2
but I assumed
I mean
we ran together
almost
every day not that I
lost a single …”
I fight to keep her words
from gibbering,
My mind
from jumbling.
“I know
like best friends
nothing
she doesn’t tell me …”
“Mom?
What are you doing?”
“Just making a few phone calls.
I already sent out an email
letting everyone know.”
“Know what?
Mom. You’re not …”
Each word
the tube rasps
my throat.
“Brianna’s mom said Bri and Lexie
have been so worried
they can’t reach you,
wondering what happened.”
The weight
of the unspoken
presses me deeper
in the bed.
“Mom, you’re not saying
anything to anyone, not telling
them to come here, right?
Please! Just tell them
I’ll be fine!”
And I can’t tell if this buzzy jigging
as I stare at the cellulite-dimpled squares
on the ceiling is drip-dripping steroids
rip-roaring to the rescue
this kind of steroids makes people weird
that young nice nurse said
almost everyone gets fat
“Oh look how cute
with those round cheeks
Chubby Chessie Chess the Chunk
Don’t listen to them, sweetie. You—
Right, Mom. I have a beautiful face.
You do. You just happen
to have gotten my genes.
Yeah. Size 14!
What? Chessie, I was never a 14!
And you were never bigger
than a 10!”
Please, God,
don’t let me get fat again
just when I thought
I knew
this body
I’ve trained
toned
scrutinized
compared
So sure
I could caffeinate
sleep Advilize
sweet-talk muscle
mind over matter
this body I thought
I mostly
almost liked
or at least
didn’t totally
loathe.
And for those hours
minutes
last night
oh …
“Shhh. Try to relax, sweetie.
Let the medicine do its job.”
Was it just
last night
David said,
“Would you be sad
if our owl turned out
to be a seagull?”
as we slid the boat
into the lake and rowed
to an island that turned out
to be a rock barely
big enough for two?
Said: “Uh … how’re
we gonna get back
from here?” as we watched
the boat drift off
into the water lilies?
Said: “Do we care?
Maybe, but not now, right?”
Said he wished
he had his guitar
so he had something
to do with his hands?
Then we both talked
too much, too fast,
to talk away
the awkwardness,
Pointed out
bogus constellations,
agreed we’re so not
party people,
only came, in fact,
because his dad lives
just down the road,
and my friends
decided we needed
to get out more,
And I told him
I wished I could
drive a tractor
and sell raspberries
all summer,
not plug numbers
into a spreadsheet
at Mom’s ex-boyfriend’s
accounting firm,
And my mind leaped
with summer things
we’d do together,
and though the breeze
smelled like rain,
the rock was rough and pointy,
and the bugs were biting,
I couldn’t imagine ever
being sad again.
And by the time the thumping bass beats
from the party faded and lights winked out
around the lake, pain nibbled
at my belly, but his hands
let me forget,
we warmed each other
against the night,
and if the owl flew by,
my eyes were too melted
with his kisses
to see.
And when he said:
“I can’t think of anything to say
that isn’t totally corny,”
I’d have answered
“Say it anyway,”
Except a boa constrictor
was squeezing my breath away
a shark was ripping
my insides,
And I tried so hard
to hold on
not let him see
not let him know
not stop
not spoil
hold on.
“Should have taken her to the doctor
weeks ago
kept her home last night,
said, you worked all day. And
your stomach’s killing you.
Said, whose party
is this, anyway? Who
do you even know
in Hillsdale?
Made her
tell me what happened.
I mean,
no phone no wallet
no underpants?”
Under the covers
I hold my hand
as if it’s his.
How bad
could I have been
if I remembered
we needed to go back
and get his guitar?
Skin white as the fat
on a leg of lamb,
white scarf over no hair,
eyelids waxy as a corpse …
Here in the night,
the only lights the flickering
fluorescence of her machines,
my call button’s LED.
Her sheeted chest
flutters …
flutters …
doesn’t.
“The lady in the bed by the window?”
I tell the intercom. “She was like twitching
and moaning before, but I think
she may have stopped breathing.
“No, no. I’m not out of bed.
But I can’t seem to sleep,
so I’ve been watching
through the curtain.
“No. Wait! She just twitched again.
And cleared her throat.
Yeah. Yeah.
It’s okay. She’s okay!”
I let the curtain drop,
sink into the safety of my bed.
“Sorry to bother you. She’s fine.
She’s on the phone.”
“Sam? Do you know where my shoes
and stockings are?”
Voice a scrape, a creak, a raven’s croak:
“Sam, my cab’s waiting!
No! They’re not under the bed!
I looked!”
“Hello, Halberstam, it’s me, Mrs. Klein.
I need you to come with the affidavit.
Tell Sam to bring the blue valise.
And the passport.
“Sam, it’s me again.
I’m not supposed to be here, Sam.
Sammy, there’s been some mistake.
Without the passport
they won’t let me leave.”
When I was little, keeping watch
in the night, counting cars
could sometimes keep away
the night beetles.
I watch the darkness,
listen to silence, until
a nurse’s light glimmers
through the curtain:
“You sure you weren’t dreaming, hon?
I never heard Mrs. Klein say a word.”
When I was little,
waiting for the night to end,
my dad’s flashlight was enough
to scare away the night beetles.
There are no lights here.
No sound but the bubbling hum
of her oxygen machine.
Nothing to count
but the glub
of the drain,
and the drugs
silently marching
down the tube
into my arm.
SECOND DAY
Morning is the time to sleep,
dreaming my old dreams:
Hot backseat love
with someone who turns out
To be Mr. Mooney, the custodian.
Why are the SATs in Chinese?
My cell’s dropped in the toilet,
and it’s ringing and I’ve lost my keys.
Welcoming those Not that again! dreams
like an old familiar Seinfeld,
While carts rattle, mops slap,
conversations filter in
Like sun striping
through the blinds.
Do I dream four frowning docs
in shower caps,
Young blue-scrubbed docs filing
in like a line of ducklings to gather
round my bed?
Could the “patient” person
they’re talking about be me?
“You know, everyone’s saying
what a great patient you are,”
Mom says as she unpacks
my pillow, socks, the afghan
Nana crocheted for me,
Plugs in my electric toothbrush,
stacks the as-yet-unopened books
from the AP English summer reading list
on the tray table beside my bed.
“I told them I’d expect nothing less.
Even when you were little,
when you got your shots,
it was me who cried,
even if I never let you see.”
Sweet coffee kiss,
soft hiss of drawers
opening and closing,
rustle of papers.
My eyes haze.
I let her words blur
till
“… told Bri you weren’t
quite ready for her to go
get you raspberries but—”
“What? No! Mom! Don’t
let her go there. And I can’t
see anyone! Mom! No!
Tell her no!”
“Okay, sweetie.
Go back to sleep.
It’s gonna take me an hour
to get to work.
I’d better go.”
“Mommy, no!
Don’t leave me!”
“You’ll be fine.
And it will all be fine.
My strong, precious girl.”
“Oy, so young!”
“With all those tubes
and not a word of complaint”
“I wonder what”
“Peeked at her chart. It doesn’t”
“Such a pretty name, Francesca.”
“Such a sweet face”
“But so skinny. Vey iz mir.”
No faces for the voices
till a green jacket man pushes my bed
toward the door and I see four stout ladies
in beauty-parlor-perfect wigs
and dresses too hot for July
spraddle-legged on the window seat
behind Mrs. Klein,
next to nectarines, cottage cheese,
hard-boiled eggs, pocketbooks.
The tsk chorus follows
as he wheels me past a boy
in an Ichabod Crane black
coat and hat, sleeping openmouthed
by the door.
“Where are they taking her?”
“Tests. Always more tests.”
“Heshy! Move your chair so they can
get through!”
“No need to raise your voice.
I understand, my love.
You’re a little upset.
But now you’re in your nice new
room, so let’s just get you into bed,
okay, cookie?”
“You understand shit! I am not your love.
And I’m no damn Chips Ahoy!, either!
NO ONE puts their hands on me,
you GOT that, cookie?”
“I’m just trying to be nice.”
“Do I look like I need nice?
What I NEED is for you to stop shuffling
me around like some kinda luggage.
Then I need you to leave
me the HELL alone.
Which goes for you, too,
whoever the hell you are.
You think I don’t see you
peeping at me through the curtain?
WHAT? No one around here’s
ever seen a bitch on steroids?”
I shrink into my covers,
let the clanging buzzing roaring
in my head drown her roars,
until the curtains part, and
IV pole tangled with tubes,
eyes almost swallowed
in her man-in-the-moon face,
the lollipop-head, dragon-eyed,
puff-bellied emergency room girl
flops down in my chair
and tucks up paper-slippered
feet too big
for her tiny body.
Says, “Hope you’re not planning
on sleeping anytime soon. No way
I can sleep with all this shit
they got me on.
You’re not a moaner, are you?
First room they had me in, the lady
whined and carried on all night.”
Hair patchy, dry,
like doll hair cut
with kindergarten scissors.
“I used to be hot, if you can believe that.
Till they gave me the evil juice.
Saves your life and makes you wish
you were dead.
Know what I’m saying?”
Eyes too old for a girl
jump from the tube in my arm
to the bags on my IV pole.
She snorts a laugh.
“I guess you do.
Welcome to the club.
Not that I give a shit about being hot.
Hot’s a pain in the ass. Not that you’d
know. Just joking. You’re still looking
pretty good. How long you been in?
Hey! You’re not closing your eyes?
Want some of my Jell-O, or an icey?
I scared that nurse so bad
she gave me three.
Oh, right. No food for you
with that NG tube.
They didn’t dare stick one
down my nose this time.
How much evil juice
they pumping into you?”
“I don’t know.”
My voice floats in
from a distant galaxy.
“You didn’t ask?”
A line of earrings studs one ear.
A cross dangles from the other.
“Act like a wimp, they tell you nada.
You know, you look like shit.
We should get the nurse.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay. Really.
/> I don’t want to bother them.”
I need her to understand this is not me,
this person lying here with patient hair
(back squashed flat,
top like rooster feathers)
two patient gowns
(one frontwards,
one backwards,
to keep the world
from my bare butt)
Even as the steroids rampaging
through my veins make my blood roar
as she glares her dragon glare.
“Hello! Nurse! There’s a girl in here
could use some help!
Are we gonna get some help,
or do I need to come out there
and mess you up?”
“So an octopus
walks into a bar
and asks for a beer.”
Poppy, too loud,
is laughing in advance
as the girl’s voice booms
through the curtain.
“Yo. News flash, Doc!
You don’t have to talk so slow.
I’m not five. Or stupid.
Just sick. Remember?
“Bet you remember the career advice
I gave you last time, too. How you
should be one of those coroner guys,
like on CSI and shit.
“I mean, if you’re this bad
with people, do us all a favor.
Switch to corpses.”
Nana bustles, fusses, reaches
for the clicker.
“Would you like to watch
a little TV, Cupcake?”
“Barb, I’m in the middle
of the joke! Unless
you’ve heard it, Chessie.”
“Steve, it’s not the dirty one?”
“No, Nana. It’s fine.”
I summon up a smile.
“I always like this one.”
Nana, smelling of Chanel
smoothes back my hair.
“The earrings look just lovely!
I’m so glad we didn’t
wait for your
birthday to— Oh, my goodness!
Is that a—
I don’t know what you
call them these days.
In our day we called them hickeys.”
“She’s about to be seventeen