Love Rewards The Brave (17 page)

103.

“This last one’s for you, Louisa.”

She holds it out to me

lovingly.

I take it from her hands

gingerly.

I had just opened the gifts from my “Mom”

although I know it was foster kid

program purchased

and most of these gifts are here

due to

angel tree

poor little me

teachers at school

pitch in

to fork up

cash to help Ms. F buy the

goods,

but it feels

good

nonetheless.

Last place I lived, those angel tree gifts

most likely

ended up on eBay

because they were certainly never

seen or used or worn by me.

Chose for me.

That’s why this is all so different.

It’s like, the things under the tree

are there on purpose

picked out, thinking of the size of my foot

and the length of my hair.

Picked out considering the clothes I liked to wear.

It was about me.

And so I take that last gift from Ms. F.

The one who’d already been so generous.

Feeling known and understood

in the freakiest

kind of way.

A way I never understood before today.

I untie the red bow and

open the little box and inside there’s

a key.

A key to the front door

and I’m floored.

I didn’t know what to expect,

but it wasn’t this

Because a key to her house means

trust

and concern

it means I can

always return

if I need

or

want

or have nowhere else to go.

And my heart-shaped hole

feels more whole.

“This key is your key, this house is your home.”

“But my mom, she’s making a home too, for me, Ms. Francine.”

“I know that, Louisa. But you can’t have too many places you call home.”

I give her a hug,

then I hand her the present I picked out.

The one Jess thought would be lame,

but Terry said would be great,

the one I knew would be right.

I knew

Ms. F

would know I care.

It would also remind me each time I looked at it

that it was okay to be scared.

Two balls of the softest wool yarn.

One white.

One black.

I wonder what they will look like when their

Crosses

Path.

104.

Ms. F drops me off.

“You sure you’re going to be okay? Did you want to try and call Jess one more time? I could still go pick her up?”

I don’t have the
heart
balls to call her

and apologize

can’t look in her eyes

and say what’s really been going on
all along.

“No, she’s out of town I think. Anyways, there will be people from work here I know.”

“Alright. Call if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll be back to get you in two hours. And be careful, New Year’s Eve always brings out the crazies. I know Margot will look after you, but really, call me if you need anything at all.”

The club is loud.

Why was sound freaking me out

so bad?

I used to want to blare my music loud

wanting the noise to pound

out any sense of feeling.

Wanting to be left alone from reeling

in reality.

These days the reeling in the feeling

was the pounding sound I found

comfort in.

Is that a sin?

To suddenly want to let some of that

in

side?

Not wanting to hide

the same way I used to?

The idea of

not hiding

is eating me alive

because it’s all I’ve let in my mind.

Somehow since I got that key

to the door

the lock (to my heart) was opening a bit more.

So when Margot

asked if I’d wanted to come

to listen

to hear

what this slam poetry

thing was all about

FEAR

was the farthest thing from my mind.

105.

There’s a girl on stage

speaking

fury and pain

written on her face

and I wonder why the rage

and I can’t even look around to find Margot.

The words coming from the girl’s lips

sound like truth.

You can tell because the words she speaks

are little arrows

piercing different places

through the room.

“We are a memory

frozen in time.

One little line I used to know.

But the book we wrote

isn’t the kind you quote.

Shakespeare or Hemingway

or Emerson, Thoreau

just names that we know.

We can’t remember time and place

place and space

space and the faces.

disappear because they aren’t

our beginning or our end.

You were good to me

and I was good to you

but the everlasting wasn’t us

it was just a piece of me.

Just a piece of you.”

The room erupts, clapping.

I clap too,

for the girl taking a bow.

The guy on keyboard next to her

kisses her cheek.

Giving her the affirmation

we all seek:

that we’re enough.

106.

I look around

mesmerized by the crowd.

Thinking to myself, this is the place

I was looking for

all sweet sixteen years of my life.

Margot finds me. “You made it!”

She gives me a great big hug

as we look one another up and down

and then she frowns.

“Where’s Jess?”

“She couldn’t make it. Out of town, I guess.”

“Well, I’m thrilled you’re here, Louisa! Did you hear Leah?”

“The girl who just went? Yeah. She was amazing. The room was totally silent listening to her.”

Margot wears a white blouse

with hearts

lining the sleeves, skintight leather pants,

she looks like

she’s got it all

figured out.

“So talented, right? I want you to meet some of my peeps, follow me.”

She winds me through the maze of people

all ages

but all

the same.

Each one
here

hoping to
hear
something

that would mean something

to them.

And you could just tell by the way they stood

or held hands

that they somehow land-

ed here for a reason.

I’m glad I wore knee-high boots

instead of two-inch heels because it’s

standing room only.

The noise still electrifying

and it isn’t music, it

is the sound

of pure energy pulsing around the crowd.

“This is my co-worker and darling friend, Louisa.”

Margot introduces me to

Lindsey and Tabitha, Jacob and Carly.

All people I won’t remember except

for the fact

that they all smile at me.

Look me in the eye.

The part that avoids contact

pulls toward it.

Grabs hold of it

like a lifeline.

Toby was there with his boyfriend

and he introduced me as his “Work BFF”

which made me blush

like I had a sugar rush.

What would these people think if they knew

I’m a girl who spent her childhood

locked in a room

giving my due

for all his misdeeds

that I paid for?

God, I’m glad they know me

as:

Margot’s friend.

It’s the safest place to be.

It’s the safest place to stand.

107.

She goes on stage last

the final act

the grand finale

the bee’s knees

the queen honeybee

the one most free.

She’s looking at me.

“I wanted to give a shout-out to my friend, Louisa, who’s here with me tonight. She’s a talented poet herself and thank you for making her feel welcome in this magical community of spoken word performers. Also, I’m honored to give the last performance of the year!”

The lights go off

and the room goes still

save for the guitar player on her left

who offers a beat to the moment

a beat to the current

that flows around

us

all.

“She lays still.

Still enough to hold

but instead she folds

over

and under

and in between.

Life and death

“Don’t want you to resurrect

me,” she says when I try.

Try and find a way to help her stand.

She won’t let me hold her hand.

The beginning started off so well.

The two of ‘em, boy meets girl.
He looks nice and neat

makes her wanna talk sweet.

Never thought he’d put her in a livin’ Hell.

Hell on earth is what it feels like

when you are just the sister

trying to find a way to hold

on tight.

Wanna give a good fair fight

for the one

who had faith in you

gonna see you through.

When she starts breaking

into pieces

too many to find, some pieces so small

shards broken again by the fall.

Doesn’t feel like I will ever win

her back to the side of life.

I was just a girl back then. Dropping out

never wanting to finish

gypsy girl heart of mine

never knew what I’d find

when I stopped for a minute.

I had my mind set on playing hard to get

get it quick

in and out never thinking about

the power of being around

for her.

That night when she was found on the ground

bruised and beat

body so weak

lying in the street

after her boyfriend of too many years

decided he didn’t care

about how the night might end.

The only way he felt power was to crush her

hurt her with his hands.

No wonder that now she’s broken

she won’t let me hold her fragile hand.

Won’t let me help her stand.

No.

When you get hurt like that

broke like that

you can’t fight back.

All you can do is hide down low

deep inside, how low can you go?

She found out.

When I went to get her in the hospital,

before you may have thought the broken heart

was the worst of it;

but honey that’s the first of it.

There is:

Broken ribs

Leg

Head

Hand

How could she even withstand

the injury?

Thank God they found her and

brought her to me.

I’ll take care of her forever, it seems.

‘Cause she’s ripped at the seams.

Broken bodies

and souls don’t get fixed overnight.

We have no Mom or Dad to help us,

no, those fuck-ups were gone a long time ago.

It’s always been the two of us

and now she’s in my care.

All I can do is stare

at this broken woman before me.

Who, when I was little, was always

my safe hold

my gatekeeper

my lighthouse

never leave the house without

person.

And now she’s too broken for me

to hold.

She just lays there

still

as I fight for her recovery

the whole time she’s in my custody.

I don’t know the first thing about fixing

broken people.

I spent my life wandering around

never keeping my feet on the ground

lost not wanting to be found.

Now it’s different.

I have her

and she needs me

and in her brokenness

I become whole

in my wholeness

she can be healed

in her healing

we can be strong

in our strength we

rediscover our greatest defense:

One another.”