Audacious (8 page)

We could, like he described,

Just run away

Ella might do it. But Raphaelle

Wants to watch to the end.

There will be repercussions

An assembly maybe, about tolerance, about “The Middle East”

Or classes for girls

“Our bodies, our decision” and the C-word.

That sort of thing

And my parents, his parents

Trying to outdo each other

In tempered reproach.

DISAPPROVAL

Because they will pretend to be modern

My parents at least

Cross-cultural relationships are difficult

My mother will say

Meaning a Catholic like me

And a Muslim like him

Can never love without the kind of effort

That we're both willing to give

(As if she would know.

She met Dad in St Brendan's choir.)

Samir's parents will be more forthcoming

You are forbidden to see her. It is a sin.

I am a sin, forbidden

That should bother me

But all I can think of are his words

As he left me at the corner of my block:

I love you.

DAD: PART ONE

We're worried about you.

This is how he always starts.

It's always late

Just me and Dad

And a plate

Of cookies, that's always there too

For our little heart-to-hearts

I usually end up crying

Eventually

Sometimes without even trying.

We thought things would be different here, new

But we're back playing our old roles

He's right, things haven't changed

He and Mom still think

I'm deranged.

We are the same, us four, that's true

A family photograph full of holes

Secrets kept from one another

Hunger, fear, doubt, loneliness

And a missing brother.

Is this something you're working through?

He means my painting, like he guesses

I've been molested or hurt.

I haven't, except by

That word I'm trying to subvert.

Poor Dad, he hasn't got a clue

It's just that I'm addicted to these messes

Always looking for a way

To screw up, fall down, wash out

I've become my own cliché.

CENSORSHIP

Censorship is anathema to artistic expression

Is how Ms. Sagal begins.

Predictably someone says:
what's “anathema” mean?

A Google war breaks out in the back of the class

Brief and intense

As Freckle and Rent-a-Geek tap on their iPhones.

I can see Ms. Sagal struggling

To not roll her eyes

Anathema,
Rent-a-Geek says at last,

A person or thing detested or loathed

Ms. Sagal lets that sink in.

However
, she continues,
certain types of images

Are considered especially powerful

And are thus restricted in some way

Like pornography

That word hits me like a falling bookshelf

Slow at first, then engulfing.

It's not pornographic,
says Samir.

There are whistles and catcalls

Which he ignores

There are places in the world

Where a woman's wrist

Is considered indecent

And others where clothes aren't worn at all.

Who's to say what's pornographic?

Ms. Sagal sighs, and closes the door.

Of course you're right, Sam

Some of the most beautiful art in the world

Depicts female nudity

Nevertheless there is a question

Of appropriateness

(God in heaven, I hate that word.)

I just wanted to discuss this in class

So you would all understand

Especially you Ella

Why the center panel has been removed.

There are nods and murmurs

People seem to think this is fair.

But unexpectedly

I begin to seethe

Take the whole thing down then, I say

Because

AUDA-IOUS

Is not a word.

It sounds like “a deus”

Which is Latin for God

And therefore the opposite

Of what I

Mean to

Say.

Ms. Sagal nods, with a hint of a smile

I respect your wishes of course.

REAL ART

Ms. Sagal stops me and Samir

As the class files out

Real art requires risk, s
he says

And a certain willingness

To be exposed

And vulnerable

Not just to scrutiny but to criticism

And even condemnation.

As Samir and I listen, he reaches for my hand

And squeezes.

Well done,
Ms. Sagal says.

PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION

We leave art class still holding hands

She didn't say anything

About taking down my painting

Samir says, pulling me aside

To a row of drab lockers

As students stream by.

Your piece is dangerous, I say

But not obscene.

There will be fallout, discussion

But not censure.

Still, I think you had some people

Agitated.

Good,
he says, with a cheeky smile.

Then he leans forward and whispers

I desperately want to kiss you.

So do it, I say.

What do I care who sees

Or what they think?

He looks like he's about to

But suddenly he lets go of my hand

And takes a small step back

Glancing over my shoulder

Cool and detached.

I turn to look.

His friend Khalid approaches, frowning

Salam,
he says,
maljadeed?

Samir shrugs.
Nothing,
he says.

Khalid gives me a frank look

Then turns back to Samir

Expectantly.

I'm not completely stupid

I know what's going on

Khalid disapproves of me

And thinks Samir's affection

Is improper, and no doubt

That I'm a firebrand.

Salam, Khalid, I say

As though I say “Salam” everyday

I was tempted to say “Shalom” instead

But thought better of it.

Khalid smiles coldly

Then speaks to Samir in Arabic.

I'll be there later,
Samir says

He exhales as Khalid leaves

I'm sorry,
he says,
that was not cool.

I only nod and cross my arms defiantly

I'm just delaying the inevitable

My parents are going to freak.

And you, Samir, what will you do?

Pretend you don't know me?

Promise never to see me again?

There is only one acceptable answer

And questions like that

Should never be asked.

JEALOUSY: PART TWO

Later, in the library

David finds me.

Are you okay?

Fine, I say, why?

You look, I don't know, agitated.

I laugh at his choice of words.

We sit in silence for a moment

Finally he speaks

I just want to say I'm sorry.

For what? I ask, but looking up

I see something in his eyes

That makes me catch my breath.

He looks, unbelievably, like he's going to cry

Like a child, frightened.

What's wrong?

He doesn't answer

And is still staring at me

When Samir appears beside him

Hey Sam,
David says to the tabletop

Samir doesn't answer.

There is hostility, even menace, in his posture

David looks up, perplexed

Can I do something for you,
he says

You can go the fuck away,
says Samir.

I've never heard Samir use this word before

It's unexpected and violent

Like a gunshot

But David gets up to leave

Chill dude,
he says,
we're just talking

Talk to someone else,
Samir says.

LET ME MAKE THIS CRYSTAL CLEAR

I don't belong to you

      Or anyone else

I don't take orders from you

      Or anyone else

I don't appreciate you

      Or anyone else

Interfering in my private conversations.

Is it me who says this

      Or someone else?

TAKEDOWN

I feel like a shirt

That's been washed too many times.

Faded and worn.

I've run my entire love-life cycle

Beginning, middle and end

Wash, rinse and dry

In one 24-hour period.

Thus I'm under the covers

When the doorbell rings.

There's something hard in Dad's voice

When he calls up the stairs.

There's a policeman at the door

But Kayli

And Mom

And Dad are right there.

Samir?

But there's no accident

Not that kind anyway.

Next thing I know

I'm getting my coat.

DAZED

This isn't real

They didn't confiscate my laptop and camera

And drive me away in a police car

Did they?

I'm not sitting here

With Dad beside me

Across from a detective

Am I?

He didn't just say:

Child pornography

Or

Disseminating

Explicit

Material

To a minor

Did he?

He didn't just read me my rights

Did he Dad?

Daddy?

Dadda?

SLEEPLESS NIGHT

A clerk took pity

And locked me in an empty windowless office

Instead of in a cell.

The fluorescent light flickers

I lie on a lumpy sofa, under an itchy blanket

Trying to piece it together

Sometime, around three am

I remember David's cell phone at the art show

And his apology.

WHAT DAD LEARNED OVERNIGHT

Dad turns up at dawn

With a lawyer

…
sixteen-year-old girl you should be ashamed of yourselves

is this some kind of fascism over a photograph what has this

world come to how dare you keep her here overnight with

the drug dealers and hookers what were you…

I think I like My Lawyer.

Now this is what I know:

David, who turns sixteen in three days,

Took a cell-phone shot of my artwork

Just the center panel

He sent it to some of his hockey friends

One of whom is only thirteen years old

Bad luck

The thirteen-year-old's father is a Mormon minister

Worse luck

David's father is a public prosecutor

Worst luck

Someone needed to be blamed

And that someone is me.

The one who's been suspended from school

The one who might go to jail

Who might have a record

Who might have to register

As a sex offender

For ten years.

Oh yes.

Raphaelle

Nice to have you back.

chapter nine

BOOKS

MORAL SUPPORT

You've really done it this time

Kayli says

Mom and Dad have both

Carefully articulated their

Measured outrage

And unconditional support

But I know secretly

They were expecting

“Something like this.”

But Kayli is genuinely impressed

Splayed across my bed

Yelling through the bathroom door

While I soak away the jail filth.

You got ARRESTED.

That is just so totally epic fail.

Thanks, I say.

I'll NEVER live up to that.

All right, let it go.

I emerge in my pajamas

As disinfected as I can get.

A SEX offender,

I mean total etch-a-sketch huh?

She means, would I like to erase it?

But before I have time to consider this

The doorbell rings again.

Maybe that's the police

Coming for you, I say.

Kayli snorts as she rolls off the bed

And trundles down the narrow staircase

I stand there, in the quiet alone

Stare at the wall

And try not to cry.

Slow footsteps pad up the stairs

I don't even look up

Raphaelle?

In two strides Samir has crossed the floor

And wrapped me in his arms.

A BOY IN MY ROOM

You knew, didn't you?

Is what I say to Samir

In the library, with David

You knew what he did?

I heard it from Khalid

He says in a soft voice

It was all I could do not to strangle David

Right there in the library

And I yelled at you, I'm sorry

I don't even know why I did that

I understand about your parents

My parents aren't going to be thrilled either.

Raphaelle, is someone up there with you?

Mom yells, as if on cue

Could you ask your friend to come downstairs?

We'd all like to meet him.

She thinks we're up here making out

Even saying it makes my heart race

Mom, please can I have some privacy?

We're just talking about school and stuff.

You've been suspended, I hear

Bad news really tweets fast these days

It's not fair; it's David's fault