Audacious, page 10
And Genie’s reply
Who cares?
Even Sarah is shocked.
How can u say that?
That’s so cold.
He could go to jail!
But Genie is unmoved
He and LA will have that in common.
But privately
In a file it takes forty-five minutes to hack into
Genie writes:
I’m so scared.
I don’t know what to do.
What if they DO arrest him?
Or if Sarah finds out?
She’ll disown me
For writing those words
I’m such an idiot
Samir just used me
But I still love him
I’ve got no one to talk to
I wish Mom was here
I wish I was dead.
GRATITUDE
Mom is writing in her gratitude journal
It’s something her therapist recommends
When I sit down beside her she shows me
The top of each page reads my girls
Then the words three minutes
She always says, when she can talk about it
That she’s grateful little Gabriel
Wasn’t born dead.
Every page, every day, starts the same way:
My girls and three minutes.
He knew his mother, she says, heard my voice
He opened his eyes and looked at me
And you two, you’re like the two sides
The two ventricles of my heart.
Me, I’m awash with gratitude right now
That the medication is right
The mood is under control
The vomiting has stopped
Because right now, more than anything
I need my mom.
I tell her everything, every little detail
Samir, the condoms even, Genie, the “hate crime”
The unlocked file, the awful truth
And all the while she holds my hand.
And when I finish she knows just what to say
So we have your side, you seem to know
The other girl’s side too, her story
Now it is time to talk to this boy.
WHEN A BOY CRIES IN STARBUCKS
It is powerful
And heartbreaking
It is unexpected
Yet vindicating
He is contrite
And begs forgiveness
I wanted to tell you
But I promised her
She was so angry at me
And didn’t want anyone to know
It wasn’t serious
We were just kids
It was only last year, I say
Have you grown up so much?
We didn’t do anything
Just kissed a couple of times
She seems to think you planned
To go all the way
She wanted to; I didn’t
I was very confused last year
You’re still confused aren’t you?
No, not about you; I love you.
BUT FIRST, MY LAWYER CALLS
What a joke our justice system is
When charges are traded
Like baseball cards
I’ll give you misdemeanor, suspended
If you give me hate crime.
Hate crime, it seems, is valuable
It gets media, it gets cred
Whereas pinning a sex crime
On a sixteen-year-old girl
Is starting to lose its gloss
They think I know something
And are willing to deal for information
My Lawyer thinks public opinion
Has turned in my favor
But David’s father will be disappointed
If he had only asked two hours ago
I would have happily turned them both in
And let God sort them out
But boy tears and reflection
Changed my mind.
There is no anti-Semite thug
Just a mixed-up girl
Who one hour ago I might have hated
But now I pity
I know how it feels to love Samir.
HONESTY
After all,
Who am I to judge?
Neither of us realized
What we did
Was considered criminal
After all
She and I
Are not so different
That’s just the sort of stupid thing
I would do
After all
We both love the same boy
But he only loves one of us back
I think; he could have used us both
After all.
SORRY GENIE
Sorry Genie
But I know it was you
I recognized the way you write your e
I read your journal
And made copies of the files
Sorry Genie
It’s best if you don’t make a scene
I’m telling you before anyone else
Except Samir, he knows
But I think he suspected all along
Sorry Genie
I lied to you about your laptop
I needed to find out the truth
Because I knew Samir was innocent
You understand
Sorry Genie
If we hurt you
I didn’t know you were ever with him
He kept your secret like you asked
That’s got to be worth something
Sorry Genie
But we’re both so deeply in trouble
If someone asks, and they will
If I know who wrote those words
I have to tell them.
THE LOOK ON HER FACE
Could launch a thousand ships
Could cleave your heart in twain
Could make a grown man cry
Could raise the dead
But nothing could prepare me
For her reaction.
When hell freezes over…
To the ends of the earth…
Until the day I die…
And something about the end of the universe.
THE OFFICE
Volatile
The three of us
(Because Samir witnessed the whole sorry scene)
Are sitting in the office
The principal wants our stories
And, of course, Genie goes first
Confident
Samir takes my hand and whispers
This is going to end badly
Then we kiss, tenderly
Until the secretary clears her throat
Samir puts his arm around my shoulders
Defiant
I imagine noosing Genie
And pulling the knot tight
Because I know what she’s doing
How she is twisting the truth
To suit her situation
Impassive
The principal emerges
And speaks in clipped tones
To the shocked secretary
Please ask security to escort these two out
Behind him, Genie stares
Triumphant.
ODE TO LAWYERS
When you have a lawyer
You can skip the nasty parts
Like being arrested
For stealing a laptop
They can phone you
When you’re on the bus
And break the bad news
They can explain the new charges
Without sounding impatient
That you’ve screwed up again
You can say things like
I didn’t steal it, she gave it to me
And leave out the part about tricking her
And when you say
What if I just leave town?
They can’t tell your parents
They pretend to be on your side
And charge $250 per hour
To listen to you sob with frustration.
You have someone who knows everything
And who will maybe understand
When you decide to run away.
SAMIR’S BROTHER
My love
Have I told you about my brother?
My father likes to pretend
He doesn’t exist
My brother
Is older than Hala
By three years
Ten years older than me
My brother
Remembers the shelling
The house being torn down
Things I can’t remember at all
My brother
Didn’t want to marry
The girl my parents suggested
He didn’t want to marry any girl
My brother
Lives in New York
I think he will take us in
If you don’t mind that he’s gay
My God
Of course you don’t mind
You are the only one
Who accepts everyone as they are.
PACKING
It feels like only days ago
I packed this stuff
I’ll start again
I told myself
I’ll start
Again
Again
I’ll start
A packed bag
A promise to try
To stay out of trouble
A train ticket east
Two train tickets east
And a declaration
Of true love
A dream
Escape
Us
We
Need
Each other
A few clothes
Long-sleeved shirts
A vintage dress I wore once
A pink dress
Appears, resurrected
I threw it away
And yet
There
It is
It is
The dress
I tried to leave
Like the part of me
That refuses to conform
I hope they like it in New York.
THE PINK CHIFFON DRESS
Mom thought it was from the ’60s,
Maybe the ’70s
I found it at the thrift store
By the soup kitchen
I liked how soft the fabric was
Like waves of pink cobwebs
And I liked that it had long sleeves
And a high neck
Because I hated to show too much
I loved the bright color
And the way it moved
When I twirled in the fitting room
I liked how bold it seemed
At the black and white ball
The girls in their little black sheaths
All collarbones and pushed-up boobs
And me a fluffy little pink flower
Glowing in the slag pile
Though I don’t remember dancing in it
And there are no pictures of me at the dance
Just an elusive memory of some excitement
Some kind of scene that Mom and Dad
Were not happy about (what’s new?)
And nausea because I got so drunk.
It’s a little loose now
I’ve lost some shape
From stress, maybe
But it still makes me feel powerful
Feminine, strong, safe and
Like myself again.
KAYLI
Nice dress, says Kayli
I think it’s possessed, I say
It followed me from the old house
Kayli laughs
I rescued it from the charity pile
It’s so you, you can’t give it away
I’m going to wear it every day
I say, until I graduate
That might be forever
I have come down to the pink-palace boudoir
To deliver a gift
One of the A’s from Audacious
The “asthmatic” Kayli looks sunken
And scared, breathless
Just like our imagined doomed heroines
I’m not sure what audacious means
She says, as we hang up the canvas
I mean I don’t think I am anyway
Her walls are the same shade of pink
As the floaty vintage dress
I could disappear in here, I joke
But Kayli doesn’t laugh
I know you want to disappear, she says
I hid that dress in a suitcase
And why would you open a suitcase
If you weren’t planning on using it?
To that I have no answer.
chapter fourteen
TEA
THE SEND-OFF
No one wants to hear this:
Is that what you’re wearing?
Mom says it, eyeing my pink chiffon
Wouldn’t something black…?
Would The Phantom wear black to a funeral?
I ask, even her own?
But Mom frowns silently all the way to church
It took her this long to find some family
And bus them in from the south.
The Phantom’s brother is a veteran
He used to visit her, send her money
But then he had a stroke and things got tight.
He limps up the aisle and stands
By the plain coffin the church paid for
His wife sits pinch-lipped and silent
Like poor Charlotte couldn’t even die right
The photo on the casket looks nothing like her
But I have a remedy for that.
Ugly, it reads, unashamedly
She was what she was
Vulgar, rude, crazy, drunk
Puzzle pieces loosely fitting together
She was a question, the answer to which
Only she knew.
Afterward Mom talks to the brother
Consoles him, poor man
He did all he could
She was never the same, he says
After her son died in the accident
And Mom cries and cries, later in the car.
NINA
She finds it
Driving through snow and tears
The house over the train tracks
It is still festooned with Christmas lights
And Santa’s face grins on the door
Nice dress, Nina says to me
Jiggling her son on her hip
And invites us in
Mom gazes longingly at the baby
And Nina obliges.
Nina loves her canvas: Indigenous
I look smart, she says
You are smart, I point out
You think? I was no good at school
Smart people seldom are, I say
I came to the show, you know
That first night
She shakes her head, smiling
Howah, you got some balls
Putting up a picture like that
Then to my mother: excuse me, ma’am.
Mom doesn’t hear
She’s deep in a game
Of competitive peekaboo
And the baby boy seems to be winning
I’m going back to school, Nina says
If I can pass some tests this summer
I’ll be in grade twelve with you
I need to find a tutor I can afford
I look over at Mom
I think I know someone, I say.
MAYBE
After I run away
Nina and her baby might
Take my place, with Mom.
This I tell myself
Is how she’ll survive my loss
Even forgive me.
COLD
The weather changes
A sharp wind blows from the North
Too cold for just tights,
I slip some skinny jeans
Under the vintage dress
And boots, coat and hat
Stomp through the thick falling snow
To Starbucks.
Nice dress, Samir says
We sit cozy in the big corner chair
He slips his black-and-white scarf
(Keffiyeh, I know this is called)
From around his neck
And carefully wraps it
Over my hair
This is how the cool Muslim girls dress
With pretty long-sleeved dresses
Over sexy jeans
Who are they kidding that this is modest?
You look hot.
Samir kisses me, a first.
He has not kissed me in public
Since that night after the art show
I blush, and tug the scarf down.
I have my dad’s car, he whispers
We could leave right now
And be in New York by Friday.
You’re going to steal your dad’s car?
I ask, incredulous, but intrigued
No, YOU’RE going to steal it, he says
You’re the thief, remember?
LOOSE ENDS
But neither of us thinks
It will really happen
This way
We have talked
About taking the train.
We take our mochas to go
And Samir drives me to Ms. Sagal’s
Almost wordlessly
I deliver her canvas: Single
And Marika’s: Disabled
She doesn’t say much
And when we leave
Samir speculates
I hear she’s coming back to school
They probably told her
Not to talk to us.
That stings me
But feels oddly familiar.
I’m like a flower
Whose petals are being plucked away
One by one
Or falling to the ground
Their purpose served.
When I hold the last petal
Samir
I wonder
Will I say, “He loves me”?
BLACK ICE
Driving with Samir
Slowly, around
The outskirts of town
The roads are being plowed
But Samir has been warned
Of Black Ice.
Black ice is invisible
It looks like a clear road
But it tricks you
Next thing you know
You’re spinning
Out of control.
Then we’re quiet
For a minute
As we absorb that potent
Metaphor.
Samir parks the car
Out near the airport
