Audacious (13 page)

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: e
xcuse 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

Even though it's dark,

It's only four thirty

Cold enough

That we can see our breath

Even in the car.

I love you, I say

In a cloud of mist

And touch his face

With my fuzzy glove

He closes his eyes

Takes my hand

And drags me, gently,

Into the backseat.

C-C-C-C-COLD

It's much too cold

To do more than unzip our coats

And lie face to face

Wrapped in each other

For warmth.

I remove one fuzzy glove

And snake my hand

Between us

To the button of his jeans

Don't,
he breathes

It's just touching, I say

It won't take much

We'll get all sticky

Anyway,
he adds ironically

It's a sin to spill it.

Maybe I could catch it

In a coffee cup, I say

Which makes us both laugh

So hard that he falls off the seat

And onto the floor.

He climbs back up painfully

And pulls me into a deep kiss

I slide into his lap

Joined at the hip

We forget the cold

Until the door opens

And a man's head appears

Who the hell are you?

I say as Samir squirms out from under me

That's my dad,
he says.

CAUGHT

Samir drives

His sister sits in the back next to me

A chaperone

While Samir's father drives ahead

In one of the company trucks.

It was the snow that doomed us

A plow driver

Recognized Samir's father's car

And, worried, called his cell phone

I guess he knew what he'd find.

Has he taken your virginity?
Hala says

Hala!
Samir says

Followed by a string of Arabic

Which his sister returns in kind

Before turning back on me.

Guarding your chastity is a test

But the reward is great

A woman's virginity

Is given to her by God

For her to give to her husband.

Thanks, I say

But I like to think I have other gifts

As for what I have between my legs

That's the gift that keeps on giving

I'll give that to whomever I please.

I can see Samir in the rearview

Trying not to laugh

Sometimes I'm sure

He's as shocked by the things I say

As I am.

SAMIR'S HOUSE

Samir and I sit

At the kitchen table

While Hala makes tea.

I can hear Samir's parents

Talking in Arabic

In the next room

What are they saying?

I ask Samir

He listens for a moment

They're talking about me

And the Muslim School

As if that matters now

Samir's father comes in

And sits across from me

As Samir literally hangs his head.

Is he ashamed of me, I wonder

But his father speaks

Samir told me he loves you,
he says

I feel the heat radiating out from my heart

Like a fire, spreading in a dry field

I know I'm blushing but I don't care

Love is a blessing and a gift

His father says, unexpectedly

Not for us to question.

Do you love my son too?

Yes, I say, emphatically

Yes, so much it hurts.

Across from me, Samir sighs.

His eyes, through the prison-bar lashes,

Look up and meet mine

His father continues

Love requires sacrifice

What would you give up for my son?

Anything, I say, without hesitation

Everything. I think

Of Ella, abandoned on the rooftop

Half-formed, ill-thought Ella

Who never had a chance

To blossom

Ella, who was going to change my life

Who was going to be the change

That remade me in her image.

Ella, who would never hack a laptop

Display genitalia

Or fall in love with the wrong boy

Ella and her plan

To blend in, thrive

And avoid controversy

Ella, who I wish had answered

Politely, thoughtfully

Diplomatically

When Samir's father asked

Do you love my son enough

To become a Muslim?

Instead it was me

Raphaelle

Who simply laughed.

RAPHAELLE FAILS THE TEST

My laughter dies in pain and silence

Samir's father says something

But I can't hear him

My heart pounds

in my ears

Because Samir is looking at me

And I can read his eyes

Disappointed

They say

Betrayed.

Then I'm out in the snow

Coat open and cold

Samir follows me

Please don't go

He says

It doesn't matter
, he lies

God has joined us

He wants us to

Be together

Forever

Samir, I say, marveling at the snowflakes

Drifting down between us in the dark

And there are so many things

I want to say but all I

Can say is:

Samir, listen to me

I don't believe

In your god

Or any

God.

PURGING: PART TWO

And so much follows

That I almost believe

It is me who incites

A blizzard to blow up.

Snow swirls around us

Like a poltergeist

And Samir's tears

Freeze on his face.

How can there be a god

I cry into the wind

When babies die minutes

After they're born?

How could your god let

Israel take your land?

How could their god

Let six million of them burn?

What kind of god

Would let those things happen?

Does he watch?

Does he laugh and enjoy it?

How could he let your father

Pretend he only has one son?

If being gay is not okay with God

Why does he allow it?

What the fuck does he have planned for me?

Am I supposed to go to jail

Ruin my life over a painting?

Maybe he just wants me to kill myself

Like Van Gogh

Maybe I should just carve off

Some body parts first

Maybe my nose

Or my breasts before

He fills them with cancer

Poke out my eyes

Before he blinds me.

Habibti, don't talk like that

You don't mean it

God loves you

I love you.

God loves me?!

If this is love I dread to see

What God would do

If he hated me.

How could God

Let those girls, those bitches

Lock me in the dark under the stairs