Capricious (10 page)

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

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

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
I
s are dotted with bullet holes

And
T
s 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 go

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

For answers, for reasons why I'm falling

That's all an orbit is
:
it's falling.

Did you know in a vacuum