Impulse

  do such a thing, little liar.

  Like an eight-year-old

  child could make up

  something so evil and

  perverse. She wouldn’t

  even believe it when

  I pulled down my jeans.

  The proof was right there

  on my underwear, streaked

  pink with blood.

  You sat on something,

  that’s all. Or maybe you

  did it to yourself. Pig!

  Enough Pond Memories

  The clock hiccups “two

  forty-five,” almost

  time for the meet ’n’

  greet with Tony Sr.

  Fuck me, what will

  I say? “Hey, Pa, thanks

  for making time in your

  busy schedule to drop by once

  in the last eight years.”

  Part of me wants to turn my

  back and walk away, like

  he did, so many years ago.

  And what do I remember

  of that day, a major turning

  point in my minor life?

  Shouts. Accusations. Denials.

  Nothing new, except

  that day, he walked out the door

  and never came home,

  except to pack his things,

  escorted by a policeman

  to keep him safe from Ma.

  He called a few times,

  asked about school, friends.

  He sent a birthday present

  once—a baseball glove

  and a hardball or two.

  Like I ever had anyone

  to play catch with.

  Like I’d ever make a team.

  But once Dad decided enough

  was enough, I wasn’t enough

  to make him face the ugly

  truth of Ma. And Tony Jr.

  would always remind

  him of her. Severed ties.

  Severed me.

  Vanessa

  Saturday, Visiting Day

  Grandma’s here, somewhere,

  and I’m on my way

  to see her. Half of me

  feels like I’m walking

  a high wire. The other

  half feels like I’m fighting

  my way through quicksand.

  I’ve missed her so much,

  but I don’t want to disappoint

  her. I mean, I’m not exactly

  sane and sober. Definitely

  not ready to go back home,

  back to school, back to me.

  Right now my brain

  feels like a soggy sponge.

  At the end of the hall,

  Dr. Starr shadows

  a doorway. In here,

  Vanessa. Your grandmother’s

  waiting to see you.

  Without meaning to,

  I slow my pace,

  try to picture Grandma’s

  face. Will it look exactly

  the way it used to—smooth

  and pink, despite all

  the care it’s wrapped around?

  Or will she wear

  a brand-new set of worry

  lines and creases,

  and will she look even

  older than she is,

  because of me?

  She’s Waiting Just Inside

  The door. Definitely a new

  wrinkle or two, but she’s

  beautiful anyway.

  She hugs me into her.

  How have you been? We’ve

  missed you. Bryan, especially.

  I gulp down guilt.

  “I’ve missed you, too.

  And Bryan. How is he?

  What’s he been up to?”

  She shrugs. School. A science

  fair project. Mostly, he’s got

  his nose in his books.

  Dr. Starr allows

  several minutes of small

  talk, finally reels us in, asks us

  to sit opposite each other

  across a narrow table.

  Vanessa has done very

  well, at least on the surface.

  But sooner or later we’ll have

  to scratch that surface, crack her

  shell, and look inside.

  Grandma’s smile falls

  away. Will you want

  me here for that?

  Dr. Starr nods. Eventually.

  For some of it, anyway.

  Anxiety deepens Grandma’s

  creases. Somehow,

  she feels responsible.

  “Don’t worry, Grandma.

  You’re not to blame.

  ‘Crazy’ runs on the other

  side of the family.”

  Grandma’s Face Drains

  You’re not crazy,

  Vanessa. You’ve had

  some rough years,

  is all. We’ll get you

  through this and

  everything will be just fine.

  I want to ask her

  if bleach got the

  tub white, if Bryan

  still has nightmares,

  bubbling red with blood.

  I want to ask if she

  has visited Mama,

  where no one wants

  to go. Instead I say,

  “You’re right, Grandma.

  We’ll come through

  fine.” Then I ask,

  “Have you heard

  from Daddy?”

  Just got a letter

  from Afghanistan.

  He couldn’t tell me

  much, of course.

  Rangers keep tight

  lips. He’s safe but

  won’t be home any

  time soon. He sends

  you and Bryan his love.

  He always loved

  us better from a distance,

  especially Mama,

  something she found

  hard to swallow. So

  she found something

  easier to swallow.

  Which reminds me.

  “Does Daddy know

  about Mama?”

  Conner

  Trading Secrets

  Sounds intriguing, and I

  see Dr. Boston again today.

  Saturday—no rest for the

  wicked, which must include me.

  I’ve been thinking about

  her deal. Can the good doctor

  have a secret worth knowing—

  a true glimpse of the real Dr. B?

  I do want to gain her trust.

  But first I have to think

  about my own secrets,

  pretty damn bad to worst.

  There is the major one,

  really major, in fact, about

  Emily, and exactly what kind

  of person she happens to be.

  There are a couple about

  Cara, my evil twin, things

  I have done to keep her

  out from under my skin.

  There is the awful one,

  the surrogate mother of all

  secrets, you might say. No, I’ll

  tell any other secret but that.

  It’s psychological

  tug-of-war. Finally I

  decide the best way out

  is to tell her more about

  my mad adoration for

  a woman twice my age.

  I can only hope the

  price tag isn’t too steep.

  My Escort Arrives

  Someone short and sour

  smelling, someone new—

  the weekend shift, no doubt.

  No telling who’ll open my

  door without knocking next.

  Ready? Dr. Boston is

  waiting. She doesn’t offer

  a name, just a steady stare.

  I haven’t a clue what’s

  behind that ice-cube gaze.

  “Hi, I’m Conner. Would you

  mind telling me your name
?”

  Can’t you read? It’s right

  here on my name badge:

  Kate! She’s practically

  yelling. Anger? Fear? Of me?

  Whatever. I’ve got my own

  fear to deal with. The hallway

  buzzes today—kids, adults.

  As I veer toward Dr. B’s

  office, I hear shards of

  conversation inside a

  conference room. The door

  is open, an invitation

  to listen. Does Daddy know

  about Mama? Such sorrow

  in the voice, I hesitate,

  wanting to find out the answer.

  Kate shoves me past before

  the reply. Seconds later

  a girl sweeps into the hall.

  Behind me, I hear her cry

  and I turn, wanting to see

  her face. It’s a gift, despite

  the sadness etched there.

  What brought her to this place?

  No Time to Pigure Her Out Now

  Dr. B is waiting for me,

  a knockout in knockoff

  designer suede. The cut

  of the suit leaves little doubt

  about her luscious figure.

  I’ve got to stop thinking

  that way, or I won’t have

  a shot at controlling

  this situation. Maybe I

  won’t anyway. Hell’s bells,

  maybe despite my plans

  I don’t really want control.

  A light must have gone on

  in my eyes, because Dr. B

  suddenly gives me a

  wry smile. What is it, Conner?

  I shake my head. “Nothing.

  Just thinking about control

  and how my need for

  it seems to be shrinking.”

  Her smile grows wider.

  Oh, I doubt that, Conner.

  Now, what did you decide

  about confiding secrets?

  My eyes lower to the

  V of her blouse. “You have

  to go first, but I guess I’m

  ready to play your game.”

  Okay. When I was younger

  than you, but old enough

  to know right from wrong,

  I had sex with a teacher too.

  She knew?

  Tony

  Hands Sweating

  I walk, heel-touch-toe,

  toward Room C-6

  where I’m told I’ll find

  Tony Sr. I stroll slowly,

  making him wait, like he

  made me wait all this time.

  As I round the corner

  Vanessa comes hustling

  along the sticky floor,

  eyes glistening. I wonder

  what stroke of luck has

  put us both in this space.

  “Hey, Vanessa, you

  okay?” She doesn’t

  look okay, but we won’t

  have much time for small

  talk before someone

  notices we’re here. Alone.

  Vanessa sniffles, Not really,

  but thanks for asking.

  Why do they make you

  see your family when

  all you want to do is

  curl up in a little ball?

  “They call it therapy,

  sweetie. Don’t you

  feel cured?” I laugh and

  she tries too. “I’m

  off to see my own warped

  next of kin. Feel better.”

  I start to skip and, a half

  smile in her voice, Vanessa

  calls, I already do. And

  Tony? I’ll keep my fingers

  crossed that things go better

  for you than they did for me.

  Crossed Fingers

  Are not enough. Dread

  sledgehammers my gut

  as I approach the door.

  Inside, I hear voices:

  Dr. Bellows’s grunt and

  a stranger’s whine.

  The coward in me wants

  to turn around, but screw

  him. The kid inside

  wants to see his dad

  again, and the avenger

  wants to grill him alive.

  I step through the door,

  and the man who turns

  to face me looks nothing

  at all like I remember.

  His hair is silver—how

  old is he, anyway?—

  and his weepy eyes are

  shrunk back into skin

  like alligator hide. Will

  I look like this person

  one day? He can’t really

  be my father, can he?

  He stands and holds

  out a hand to me.

  Hello, Anthony. Long

  time no see. You sure

  have changed! How

  have you been?

  All the stuff I wanted

  to say slips from my

  brain like oil-slicked

  turds. I stutter, “H-hello,

  Pa. I’m okay, I guess.”

  I even shake his hand.

  I Draw the Line

  At hugging him, though.

  Shit, I haven’t hugged

  anyone since Phillip.

  The last time was in

  the hospital, when I

  hugged him good-bye.

  Pa tries, and I duck,

  slumping into a chair.

  He does likewise, eyes

  never leaving my face.

  Then we sit, silent as

  death, until Dr. Bellows says,

  I gather it’s been quite

  a while since the two

  of you have seen each

  other. How do you feel

  about that, Tony? He

  squirms in his own chair.

  The question stings

  like alcohol. “You’re the

  psychologist. How do you

  think it makes me feel?

  Deserted. Unworthy.

  Fuck it. I’m pissed.”

  Finally, Pa looks away.

  I’m sorry, Anthony. I

  know I should have been

  there for you. It was

  a difficult situation,

  all the way around.

  Difficult? For him? My

  hands shake and my

  face erupts fire. I struggle

  to find words worthy

  of the emotions churning

  inside, in desperate need

  of release.

  Vanessa

  Seeing Grandma

  Made me want to go home,

  made me want to stay here,

  made me miss her and Bryan

  and Daddy. Made me scared

  to think about Mama again,

  and how I left her that day.

  Blue. I should be tumbling

  low and blue, but instead

  I’m swinging the other way.

  I’d rather be going blue,

  where no eyes can find me.

  I think about the eyes I saw today—

  Grandma’s, hopeful, then nothing

  but sad and confused.

  Dr. Starr’s, ringed

  by sleeplessness.

  Tony’s, a strange jumble

  of anticipation and fear.

  That other boy’s, curious

  and intent on me.

  Who is he, anyway?

  I haven’t seen him in group,

  not in the cafeteria, not

  in the classroom.

  He must be new,

  new and gorgeous,

  the kind of guy every girl

  dreams will want her,

  but it never quite works

  out that way.

  So why did he look

  like he might

  want to get to know me?

  There is another pair

  of eyes too, eyes r />
  that never saw the light.

  Little eyes, that haunt

  me deep in the night.

  Mania Blossoming

  My brain won’t quit churning.

  I keep seeing pictures, like movies.

  Faces. Eyes. Hands. Bodies.

  My body, next to Trevor’s.

  That’s what I’m seeing.

  He wasn’t my first,

  wasn’t my only, but he

  made me feel how

  none of the rest could.

  How I wish he was here

  now, to put out this fire,

  this low bank of coals,

  smoldering between

  my legs. But Trevor

  isn’t next to me,

  never will be again.

  I can’t deal with your

  freaky mood swings,

  Vanessa. One minute

  you’re solid, the next

  you’re like water.

  Boiling water. I love

  you. But not enough

  to stay with you.

  His words were fists,

  pounding my belly,

  snatching the air from

  my lungs. I couldn’t talk,

  couldn’t breathe, so how

  could I answer?

  He turned his back,

  walked away, and I wanted

  to die right there.

  Instead I went home,

  where my hungry

  new razor blade

  lay in wait.

  I Hurried Home That Day

  Salivating for steel,

  the cold caress of metal, skin

  at the mercy of my own hands.

  I could still taste Trevor.

  He kissed me before he dumped

  me, and my mouth held ghosts

  of tobacco and Budweiser.

  I expected the house to be empty—

  Grandma at work and Bryan just

  about ready to climb onto