Arizona Allspice
Page 12
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I finally have a solution. The idea came to me out of necessity. These idiots have gone too far disrespecting the Roberts family. I’m going to give them something to really hate. Tonight is the Chupasangres’ first game of the season. There is good money riding on us winning against The Warriors. I’ve found out what a lot of these guys truly care about. They want their bets to pay off and pride in their teams. I let the important people know that if they don’t do exactly what I ask, star rookie Joey Kinsley is going to have a real bad “twisted ankle” in the first half that’ll put him out of the entire game.
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Things are nice and quiet at school now. No one wrote names on lockers, no one threw any spitballs, no one invaded anyone’s private property, and no one made any snide remarks.
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I noticed that Elaine doesn’t talk with much of anyone anymore. If someone talks to her she’ll make a joke and end the conversation at that. I’m really curious about what she writes. We have the same taste in literature, from what I know, so I wanted to work with her on an English project or something. I tried to bring up the subject with her but she’s incredibly good at brushing people off. I guess I’ll try again next time.
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If she thinks for one moment that I don’t know what he’s doing to her she must think me a fool. She keeps telling me to calm down about it, that she’s okay. I respect this person a lot. She’s like a godmother to me. I respect her wish to keep the issue away from her children. I care about her family, so I’m torn. I want the guy locked up but I want her family to be happy.
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I don’t like feeling this way. I would prefer the part of my brain responsible for having a crush on someone be removed. Aren’t crushes supposed to wear off? There’s supposed to be that time where you look at the person and think, “Holy crap! What was I thinking?” I would really like to fast forward to then.
Chupasangres are still undefeated.
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I asked Elaine to partner up with me on the English project. Again, I got nothing. I guess she still hates me. That’s understandable.
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Anger Management
I am a bull.
Ringed. Fuming.
A Devil of Tasmania.
Crazed. Cauldron.
I am a snarling big cat,
Jungle king.
Gnashing. Furious.
A hotheaded viper.
I conquered; brought down.
A Davidian defeat.
It is over, it is done,
Yet I haven’t any peace.
Always taut, on guard.
Defending. Watch dog,
Loyal though mean.
What am I before her?
In the presence of my
Allspice Aphrodite,
What beast? Well,
I am, insufferably,
A fumbling platypus.
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I haven’t written in here in months. I’ve been busy with soccer and school and helping my friends. No luck with her, by the way. I’m still an idiot jock to her. I wish she would believe me when I say I’m interested in all that literary stuff too. I’d ask her mother to put in a good word, but I haven’t visited Miss Marna in a long time. It’s too difficult to watch things deteriorate. I saw my mother spiral down. I don’t need to see it again.
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She makes me feel like nothing about me is true. How does she do that? Make me question myself? She makes me see all the ugly things about me that I hate. I resent her for that sometimes. In the same breath I love her again. I said it. I think I love her or something close to that. I’m only seventeen so maybe it’s just admiration mixed with lust. She hardly talks to me, but when she does she builds me up and tears me down with one polite smile.
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I wrote a letter to Miss Marna, even though she lives a walk away and I could have asked her if she was okay in person. I just can’t be in the same room as her husband. That would be dangerous. She wrote back and told me she was proud of me for being so kind to her and the girls in town. I replied and asked why she wouldn’t let me help her like I help other people. She wrote back that I needed to understand Mr. Roberts was ill. I answered, “I know he’s a sick man.” Then she wrote back saying she wanted me to stop writing her because she didn’t want to raise her husband’s suspicions. Screw him. I only stopped writing because it’s what she wanted.
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Soccer isn’t a release for me anymore. I still get so angry. I feel like a child having a tantrum because he didn’t get the toy that he wanted. I keep getting into fights with the opposing team. My teammates are frustrated with me because our team is losing. My mom is sad that I won’t talk to her about what’s going on with me. Aphrodite knows I’m a mere mortal and is disgusted. I wonder sometimes why I care. Why do I care about her? Why do I care about helping all these girls that come to me with their problems? I can’t even help myself. What good am I then? I feel like a mummy, all wrapped up in strips of linen to hide the deadness inside.
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I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done.
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I’ve been focusing on my team and my friends. I need to stop chasing a dream and live in reality. She doesn’t give a crap about me, she doesn’t know me, if she ever really knew me it would give her more reasons not to talk to me, she doesn’t need me to save her, she doesn’t want my friendship and she certainly doesn’t want to be repulsed by how I’ve had feelings for her for years.
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Lost a game. Got so enraged my eyes welled up. Got angry again for wanting to cry. I guess I’m not done.
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It feels really good to help people. Maybe I’m too fixated with helping the girls in town, but I’m using my emptiness to make other people’s lives whole. I helped Morghan with her self-esteem, ran off Carol Anne’s abusive boyfriend, taught Marisol how to defend herself, went with Teresa to the doctor’s office, and I helped Elena, and Marissa, and Kara, and Leah, and Esperanza, Tia, Brittany and hopefully more. I love doing things for them. I would love to help some other people but I don’t do anything unless they want the help. That’s my rule. They have to give me permission.
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Cool sand sifted through my fingers
Rough stones press up on my heels
Tall grass whipping at my ankles
Owl calling in the starry night
Wind whispering against my ears
Chilled breeze strokes across my shoulders
Bright moon mirrored in my dark eyes
Wish that I could feel that bright and full
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I went to the homecoming dance with Danielle. She’s really sweet. We had a good time. She got a little drunk at the after party so I had to tuck her in early. It was a hotel party so I carried her to a bed and put the covers over her. She looks so innocent when she’s asleep. It weirded me out because she looked fourteen or something. I didn’t drink anything but my buddies did. I was surprised Mario got so wasted. I’ve never seen him drunk until last night. I saw Manny at the party. Denise was chatting him up. I hope he knows he’s being played and doesn’t take her advances seriously. I didn’t see his sister at the party. I didn’t see her at the dance.
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I’m six days into the summer before my senior year and I can’t relax because I’ve been hearing rumors about Raul and even though I know it’s impossible I still have this doubt in my mind and it’s ripping me up to imagine they could be true and she could be with him even though he’s the epitome of what she isn’t and who she isn’t and I have to get to the bottom of the stories I’m hearing before I go crazy.
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I went to the park office and borrowed a book from Miss Marna. I told her it would be the last book I would borrow from her because I know she doesn’t want to be bothered with me. She told me that wasn’t true. I pic
ked out The Heart of Darkness from her bookshelf. She tells me I can keep the book if I want to. I thanked her. Then she said, “He makes her happy, Joey.” I asked, “What are you talking about?” She gives me a knowing look and then continues gingerly typing at her desk. “How’s your wrist?” I ask. She looked up at me shocked. “What are you talking about?” she asks, hiding her hands under her desk. I give her a knowing look and leave.
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My senior year is almost half done. Mario and my teachers want to know what I plan to do after graduation. I asked them what they think I should study. They all think a while and say “How about something to do with sports?” They have to think a while because neither they nor I know anything I’m good at other than soccer. Except maybe my mom who thinks I’m a good poet but she’s smart enough not to suggest I try to make a living off of it. She thinks I could be a social worker, too. I don’t know. I heard Manny got a scholarship to a school in California and that Elaine is going to U of A. If I went to U of A then I would have to move to Tucson. The PiCo factory is an option too. It’s here in town, so I wouldn’t have to leave Mom behind.
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I went to the park office to return that book and I got into an argument with Miss Marna because she was lying to me. She kept telling me “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine” which is questioning my intelligence because her makeup is barely hiding the bruise on her neck. I was getting angrier, wondering why her kids weren’t protecting her from Mr. Roberts. Elaine is gone all the time with her prick of a boyfriend so I understand she might not notice but Manny has no excuse. He shouldn’t need me to tell him to man up and protect his sister and his own mother. I told her that and she started crying and telling me not to tell them anything and to blame the schizophrenia and not Mr. Roberts. I just left because I didn’t want to hear anymore of her excuses. She’s been leaving me notes, begging me not to say anything. I just ignore them.
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I took a bus out to Oaks Cemetery on Saturday. I wore my one white button down shirt and my black dress pants. I didn’t have a tie or dress shoes so I wore the cleanest pair of tennis shoes I had. I couldn’t get out of bed for the funeral last week, so I figured I could pay my respects with a visit to the place she was buried at. I hadn’t eaten anything so when I reached the entrance of the cemetery and threw up in some weeds the stomach acid stung my throat bad. I placed some roses by her headstone. I sat down cross-legged and told her I was so sorry and I cried because the words on her grave marker were true. She was an angel. And I was an angry demon that brought nothing but pain to her family. I promised her at the cemetery that I would keep silent and swore I would leave her family alone. All she ever wanted was to spare her children the truth. Now her kids know about their father in a profane way I never wanted for either of them. I did this to them.
“Tomorrow night is nothing but one long sleepless wrestle with yesterday’s omissions and regrets” William Faulkner
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I graduated today. Mom was proud of me. Mario is leaving for Stanford and naming me the captain of the Chupasangres. They’re giving me a decent job at PiCo automotive factory and I’m taking it.
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The team isn’t the same without Mario. I can tell my teammates wish he was here instead of me. I’m trying to keep our wins, but when we play the Tormentas I lose my cool. Seeing her sitting on the sidelines under her pretty blue umbrella and cheering them on doesn’t help. My anger is coming out at work too. Everyone is frightened of me. They don’t know that I’m scared too.
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I have an opportunity to do something that could change everything. Because I’ve wanted this chance for so long, it’s hard to flat out dismiss it. God knows I’ve tried to deny my feelings and bury them again and again and it never worked. The plan I have in mind would work for everyone. And if I don’t win her heart then at least I’ll know she has all the good things she deserves in her life. I just need permission.
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Following that entry is a poem. Every line of it settles inside my chest until finally I burst. For a few minutes, I sob. My hands numb and moistened with tears, I close the leather-bound journal and drop the book into my handbag. Without looking back, I leave the suffocating hospital room for home.
EIGHT
“You sound like your nose is stuffed up. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I was at St. Mary’s a while ago. Maybe I caught something there.”
“Yeah? How is he?”
“Joey could be awake as soon as tomorrow.”
“That’s…,” he exhales slowly, “really good. Thanks for being there in the hospital with him. If I could, if I wasn’t here, I would be in that room every day to ask him to forgive me when he wakes up. Thank you for being my eyes and ear, and my voice. I know it’s hard to see Joey lying there with the tubes and monitors connected to him; in the same hospital where mom passed. But you go there whenever you can to check on him and read to him. I appreciate that.”
“I’m just hopeful he’ll be okay and you’ll be able to come home soon.”
“I miss you guys a lot. How’s Frank?”
“He hasn’t come back yet from visiting some old friends in town.”
“I’m sure he won’t be gone too late. If he does, it’s not because he forgot about you or anything. He has a lot of friends and catching up to do.”
“I thought I finally would have someone here to confide in and the first thing he does is leave me in the house alone.”
“Sorry, Laney. How about Dad? You could talk to him. I’m sure he wants you to.”
“I’m not ready to go back there yet.”
He makes a low sound in his throat to convey he understands my reluctance. After a quiet pause, he says “I can’t believe Joey could be out of the coma by tomorrow. I thought he’d be under for weeks, not just five days. He got hurt bad when I pushed him. I’m surprised he healed so quickly.”
I didn’t want to remind him we would have to wait for Joey to wake up to see if he had healed normally. Sitting up in bed, I shake my head. “You didn’t push him, Manny. He tripped.”
“I’m sure choking him didn’t help him with his balance. I screwed everything up so bad. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to him. I hate myself for being such an idiot. I turned on my best friend over some girl.”
“Over Denise,” I state.
He pauses. “…Yes. I guess you figured that out. I’m really ashamed. I kept holding out for the day she would change for the better. I thought I could be the person in her life to help her. If he never wants to talk to me again, that’s understandable. I did a pathetic, immature, irreversible thing. I wish I was the one in the hospital bed.”
“Manny, you don’t have to beat yourself. You’re incarcerated. Okay? Isn’t that punishment enough? Do you have to punish yourself as well? Gosh, you and Joey are so alike, so hard on yourselves. I mean, did you know that Joey…” I sit in bed staring into the dim corner of my bedroom. What question did I really want to ask?
Did you know that Joey thought I hated him?
I never hated him. I just never took him seriously. I never really listened to him.
Did you know that Joey’s really hard on himself and not at all full of himself?
That Joey wasn’t a womanizer; he was a shoulder for girls to cry on and protective to a fault?
That Joey started the rent drama, but he did whatever he could to stop the chaos, and he did?
That he’s a poet?
That he was good friends with Mom?
That he was the only one not too self-absorbed to notice that my father was mistreating her, our own mother? And the abuse he knew my father committed was the reason he was so adamant about my safety when I was taking care of Dad?
That he…cares about me a lot and it’s terrifying?
That he’s friends with you, I think, to get closer to me?
That I can’t tell you about these things because you do
n’t need anything else to worry about while you’re surviving this ordeal?