Text from Samir:
Jibreel asleep in my lap.
Love u.
DRIVING TEST: PART TWO
Last time
I ran a stop sign
Which is an automatic
Fail
And Dad said
Everybody fails first time out
And Mom said
You’ve got all summer to practice
And Kayli said
Did you hit anyone?
And I said
No
And I didn’t say
That I ran the stop sign
Because I didn’t see it
Because my eyes were full of
Tears
This time David brings me
Michael’s car is smaller
Easier to drive
And he waits while I go inside
And fill out a form
And take a number
Only before my number comes up
I walk back out to his car
And buckle up staring at
Nothing
Okay, he says, okay
And we drive
Away
HE TRIES
I know something is bothering you
I wish you would tell me what
I’m not one of those intuitive guys
I’m not sure there is such a thing
I know something is bothering you
And I’m worried it’s about us
But it’s okay if you’re not sure
We could take things slowly
I know something is bothering you
Is it your job or your parents?
I understand how painful both can be
You know I really like you, right?
I mean as more than a friend
But we’re still friends too
If that’s what you need because
I know something is bothering you.
SOMETHING
Itchy
Dirty
Like my skin
Is choking me
Like my limbs don’t fit
Like I’m not a person
Like I’m watching the world
Through someone else’s eyes.
Tired
Sad
Like I’ll never do another
Interesting thing.
Like all I am is
Some girl to leave behind
Like trash
Like one of those
Missing kids
On milk cartons.
Lost
Alone
And unable to move
Or speak.
DAWN
So early that I haven’t slept
When the sky brightens
My curtains and it
Must be a million degrees
I swear I’m swimming
In sweat.
So early that in the half
Awake I forget the
Reasons I sometimes
Dread the day, the
Effort to repress
My regrets.
So early that the birds
Are quiet still
They haven’t yet
Awoken to the cats
Who stalk their
Drowsiness.
So early that
Yesterday seems too
Close to unfinished
Like time is overtaking
Me, a runner in a race
I didn’t mean to enter.
MONEY
Another day with Marika
Unable to resist her joy
I’m slightly exhausted
Face sore from laughing
Down by the lake.
We watched ducks and boys
And agreed we prefer ducks
Because they’re smarter
And have
C-L-E-A-N-E-R
Feet.
Ms. Sagal pays me with a check
I bank it, withdrawing twenty dollars
And blow it all at the thrift store
Under the church on Cornwall
Everything black, a little
Vintage funeral dress
A tiny men’s tuxedo jacket
A long witchy skirt.
A T-shirt of an ’80s band
No one remembers.
At Starbucks
Samir buys me an iced tea
And we sit on the patio
While he tells me that his brother
Told him that he’s marrying
Another man in New York.
I ask him how he feels
And he says
Dead inside.
REALITY CHECK
What He Could Have Said:
“I’m so happy for him
I hope I can go to the wedding
It was great to talk to him
He seems to be in a good place
The guy, Ben, sounds nice
I can’t wait to tell my sister
She’ll be thrilled.”
What He Did Say:
I sort of wish I’d never called him
I mean, what’s the point?
How am I supposed to react to that?
I know he didn’t choose to be gay
But he could be discreet about it
Now I have this hanging over me
And I can’t tell anyone but you.
JUST HOW SHALLOW AM I ?
The thing to do
When I get home
Would be to call David
Isn’t that the point?
To Frankenstein
Two boys together
Making a perfect boyfriend?
Wasn’t the idea
To let them fill the gaps
In each other?
David’s tolerance tempers
Samir’s passion
David’s passivity stirred
By Samir’s urgency.
But the whole of them
Is starting to feel less
Than the sum of them
And the whole of me
Is starting to feel
Much too
Small.
DATE NIGHT
Kieran appears at the door
Dad’s grad student
I say
Mom and Dad are out
And he gives me
A bundle of papers
Which I should just
Shove into Dad’s office
And say good night
But instead I ask him in.
Want to get high?
He says
We pad across the
Cool grass to the alley
Startling a raccoon
Kieran’s match
Lights up the tiny
Footprints in the dust.
Smoke settles
Around me like a halo
This time it
Feels something like
The unscrewing of a vise
Grip deep inside
My head.
Seventeen, Kieran says
Fingering a strand of my hair
I’m twenty-three
So I feel like
Quite the pervert
Right about now.
Yeah, I say.
Come see my room.
ART SHOW
You did all these?
Some of them are pretty good
I like the mandalas
And this Jesus one.
It’s Jesus, right?
It sort of creeps me out
Was that the idea?
Like he’s watching
And I don’t know
Judging.
And the hands are weird
Who is the one with the key?
Your art teacher, huh.
What does the key mean?
Some kind of metaphor?
Wow, that shit was strong
I’m flying here and
You look like you’re falling
Asleep or waiting
&n
bsp; For me to kiss you.
No offense
You know you’re sort of cute
In a vintage jailbait kind of way
But your dad would kill me
AND fail me.
I think you’re playing grown-up
And I don’t feel that grown-up myself.
So maybe I’m not the right guy for your game
Besides, this scared-rabbit thing you’re doing
Right now is really not that sexy.
MUNCHIES
He disappears down the stairs
Don’t tell your dad, okay?
He calls back.
I mean, I didn’t do anything
Except get you high
But still.
Please, I say
What do you think I am?
He doesn’t answer
Just slams the door
But my own buzzing skull
Has plenty to say.
I suppose I could
Go downstairs
And eat everything
And slink back up
To vomit technicolor
Humiliation.
Instead, I write a list.
NO more drugs
NO more self-pity
NO staying up all night
WHAT am I doing?
STOP asking for trouble
STOP being so stupid
STOP being so selfish
STOP looking in the mirror
STOP obsessing
About everything
SCREW those bitches.
NEW YORK, I write
EARN MONEY
GET THROUGH GRADE TWELVE
COLLEGE somewhere not here
And FIX THIS MESS
Though I have no idea
How.
CRAYON
Kieran’s fingers
I scratch them in green
Smudgy crayon
With black charcoal
Rubbed in
On a crumpled sheet
Torn from an old
History handout
Like a zombie hand
Pulling me by the hair
To the land of the dead.
ALWAYS DARKEST
When Samir nudges me awake
The clock reads 2:04 am
The mudroom door was unlocked
He says
Is it okay if I stay?
He’s sweaty and hot
He must have jogged
The whole way
After all that effort
How can I turn him away?
Anyway, his arms
His lips, his tongue
And the rest of him
Are exactly the fix
I need.
WHISPERS
Samir, I whisper
He stirs and turns to face me
Moonlight in his eyes.
Do you remember
Last year when things fell apart
How the whole world knew?
I think that might be
Much better than this secret
Storm inside of me.
Habibti, what storm?
You mean about the car wash?
My love, please don’t cry.
What is it about
Me that inspires such contempt?
Did they want me dead?
That was just so cruel
Way beyond the normal cruel
And far into malice.
I can’t stop thinking
Of ways to balance it out
Even things again.
You mean like revenge?
Both your religion and mine
Advise against it.
Not revenge so much as
Correction, erasure to
Somehow rewind time.
Time can’t be undone
And mistakes can’t be unmade
But God will judge them.
That would comfort me
As Samir sleeps if only
I believed in God.
Chapter Nine
Unfeeling
CAREER ASPIRATIONS
So What is grown up?
Do you get some kind of card?
You know, like a bus pass?
What if I don’t Want it?
To grow up at all
Much less Be something
When I do?
How do You know when it’s time to
Grow up?
And is Up the only direction?
PLANNING
Mom leaves my enrolment form on the counter
With certain things circled and labeled
AP classes: English, History, Art
Easy A is the annotation on these
Chemistry, Physics, Biology
Medical school, she notes.
Medical school!
Calculus—challenging
No kidding.
French—oui?
Non, I inscribe.
I stare out the back window
At the yard baking in the sun
And imagine my grade-twelve year
As a kind of dystopian death match
Where students write florid essays
In the blood of their fallen classmates
Where Is are dotted with bullet holes
And Ts are crossed with tears.
I would think of my future
My aspirations
I DO have them
Somewhere under all of this
I would make the connection between school
And future the way I’m supposed to
But when I think of school all I see
Is smirking spiteful girls
And two clueless boys
Who can never be enough
To protect me.
And when I think of the future
Beyond school it looks
Dangerous, like a destination
I haven’t packed for
Like I’ve arrived in Siberia with
A suitcase full of sarongs and flip-flops
Sunscreen and beach towel
Bikinis and a pink chiffon dress
Like I might just walk out
Into the arctic snow and
Lie down and freeze.
THINGS I’LL CHANGE ABOUT MYSELF IF
I GET THE TIME
I’ll rejoin the human race
I’ll try some makeup on my face
A little liner around the eyes
I’ll drop a dress size
Give up chocolate, chips and pop
Maybe give my shitty hair a chop
Layers or bangs, a stylish bob
Stop being such a thrift-store slob
Buy something from The Gap
Throw out all that vintage crap
Make some friends, ones with cars
Go to parties, sneak into bars
Probably take up heavy drinking
Try to stop the neurotic thinking
Become the kind of person I can love
That Mom and Dad can be proud of.
EXCUSES
David is never late
Except when he is
Greeting me with profuse
Apologies and vague
Explanations as though I
Don’t know that something
Happened with his brother
This time in the middle of
The day, which can’t be good.
For some reason screwing up
At night is more socially acceptable
It’s not logical because darkness
Is dangerous: you’re more likely
To walk into traffic or fall into
The lake or freeze on a park bench
Or be jumped, mugged, raped, murdered
Tossed into a Dumpster with
Other broken discarded stuff.
He nudges my knee and takes
My hand but under the table like I
Asked him to once and gives it a
Little squeeze before letting g
o
Are you okay? You’re spacing out
I’m worried about Michael, I say
And it’s not a lie so much as
Only part of the whole truth.
FALLEN ANGEL
Michael lies on the lawn
Behind the house
Arms and legs out
Like a starfish drying
Dying on a rock.
He smells pretty bad
David says
I send him inside
For a glass of water
And help Michael sit up.
Let’s take this off, I say
He lets me remove
The puke-ripe T-shirt
And slumps there
As I toss it away
His spine curled
Each vertebra like a knife
That might cut him open
From the inside.
Jesus, David says.
Michael drinks the water
Where’s your mom?
I ask David. He shakes
His head. She’s done
With me, Michael says.
Dad won’t even let him
In his apartment anymore
I help David bring him inside
And lay him out on his bed
Surrounded by towels.
You should go, David says
Mom will come home
I suppose eventually
She’ll be embarrassed
If she finds out you know.
But I sit and hold his hand
And let the hours pass
Watching his brother
Roil and heave like lava downhill
Burning everything in its path.
BENEDICTION
Ella, you’re a sweet girl
And brave too. I think some chicks
Would run a mile, even from a catch like David
When they saw he’s related to me.
Brother, you’re a lucky guy
You found her without even trying
And after all you did to screw it up
She’s still holding your hand over me.
Ella, you’re a sweet girl
For knowing all I need is a glass of water
And towels, somewhere to sleep
And someone to watch me breathe.
Brother, you’re a lucky guy
Hold on to her tightly and don’t let go
There are streaks of light and dark in her
But both are good, and necessary.
Did you know that life depends on change?
On day and night, on seasons?
On the rotating Earth? On the orbiting planets?
That stillness equals death?
Do you know how orbits work?
Gravity and velocity seem like enemies
But really they’re partners together
Making something that seems like magic
I’m raving again, aren’t I?
I do that sometimes when I’m searching
Capricious Page 8
