Perfect - 02

too. Maybe she’d like them.

  “Aunt Mo is so not a lezbo.”

  GBME: You never know.

  Deputy Rossiter: Did you know

  crazy people talk to themselves?

  “I am not crazy.”

  GBME: You never know.

  The Booking Process

  Takes a lot of time. Retinal

  scan: check. Personal info:

  check. Photographing,

  face forward, right, left:

  check. Fingerprinting:

  check. Every step, all new

  to me, just another day

  at jail for the intake

  officer. Now a nurse

  comes to take some blood

  and ask a lot of questions

  about my medical history.

  “What’s the blood for?”

  The question seems fair,

  but the mastiff-faced nurse

  seems totally put out by it.

  She rolls her big bug eyes.

  To identify certain diseases,

  of course.

  She squints at my

  pupils. Screen for substances …

  The familiar nervous prickling

  begins at the base of my skull,

  creeps upward. “Like what?”

  Mastiff Nurse: Why, you worried

  about something in particular?

  GBME: You really need to learn

  when to keep your mouth shut.

  “Uh, no. Just curious is all.”

  My face flushes embers.

  It must be cranberry red.

  Mastiff Nurse: Are you currently

  taking any medications?

  GBME: A simple “no” will do.

  “Would you please shut up?”

  Mastiff Nurse: Excuse me?

  GBME: I’ll shut up if you will.

  Andre

  If You Will

  Only

  pause, as you hurry

  through your days,

  take a minute to

  look

  at passersby, beyond

  cursory skin-deep

  analysis, all the way

  into

  their eyes, what beauty

  you might find woven

  from the life threads there.

  If you will only look past

  my

  clumsy attempts at love,

  sound the depths of

  emotion in my

  heart,

  what haven you might

  find in the soft surf

  of my harbor.

  Birthdays

  Have never really felt like such a big

  thing. Certain ones stand

  out—my fifth, when my gramps took me

  to Disneyland and Cinderella kissed

  me. I thought she was

  the most beautiful lady in the universe.

  My eleventh, when we went to San Francisco

  and watched a street dance

  competition in Golden Gate Park. I’d been

  practicing on the sly, but wasn’t nearly as

  good as I thought I was.

  Seeing those b-boys do one-armed handstands

  made me believe I could do one too. I tried,

  landed on my head. Never

  knew a tiny head wound could bleed so much.

  My sixteenth, when I got my driver’s license

  and the Quattro on the same

  day. Mom wanted my first car to be a safe one.

  Today is my eighteenth birthday. Jenna

  and I are celebrating

  tonight. It’s someone else’s party we’re going

  to, but that’s okay. I haven’t seen her in over

  a week, and I can’t believe

  how much I’ve missed her. Don’t know if

  absence actually makes the heart grow

  fonder, but it definitely

  makes it ache. Should love be painful?

  I’m getting ready when someone knocks

  on my bedroom door.

  Mom. May I come in? Birthday present?

  I’m shirtless, but she’s seen me that way

  a time or two.

  “Of course.” I step back and she brushes by.

  Your father had to fly to Oakland. Your

  grandmother has been ill.

  She’s out of danger for now, but they

  are moving her into a nursing home.

  I thought you might

  try and get down to see her as soon as

  school is out. Your grandfather would

  like that too. He’s asking

  about you and your plans for next year.

  Gramps, too? “Why didn’t anyone tell

  me that Grandma Grace

  was sick? Is she going to be okay?”

  When people get older, their bodies

  deteriorate. You can

  make the outside look better, but you

  can’t always control what’s going on

  inside. She has brain

  cancer. Inoperable. But she’s not in pain.

  Guilt smacks me in the face. How long

  since I’ve even called to

  say hello? “How long does she have?”

  A Few Months

  That’s it. The truth of death grabs me

  by the shoulders. Shakes.

  Mom comes over, puts her arms around

  me. She hasn’t held me like this since

  I was little. I’m sorry.

  I know you were close. And I’m sorry I

  had to give you the news on your birthday.

  She would want you to

  go to your party, though. For Grace, death

  is a beginning. She’s a woman of strong

  faith. I wish I was. It

  would make the day-to-day living easier.

  Easier? How much easier could it be

  for her? What is she

  afraid of? “Are you afraid of dying?”

  Her arms fall away, as if they have been

  around me too long.

  She smiles. Only when I think about it.

  She has always seemed ageless to me,

  like time has no way

  of touching her. I understand now that

  no one is immune to time’s embrace. One

  day I will lose her. She

  goes to the door, hesitates. Happy birthday.

  Before he left, your father made a deposit

  into your savings account.

  Use some of it for a mad splurge, okay?

  “Okay.” One day I will lose them both.

  “Hey, Mom? I love you.”

  I think I need to tell her that more often.

  I love you, too, Andre. Very much. Now,

  go have fun. Just be

  smart about it. I want you to make nineteen.

  The Party

  Is up Jumbo Grade. The pavement ends

  at the first cattle guard,

  and the Quattro bumps along the packed

  dirt. Why are you driving so slow?

  complains Jenna.

  This is a four-wheel drive, isn’t it?

  “It’s all-wheel drive, but that doesn’t

  mean it was built for

  off-roading. I don’t want to tear it up.”

  You should get a Hummer. That would

  be fun. As usual, she has

  already been drinking. Tequila, tonight.

  “Where do you come up with all your

  alcohol? You can’t

  just keep taking it from your parents.”

  She laughs. No, I only take a few sips

  from theirs. Patrick

  is a tightwad. He’d definitely miss it.

  It’s not that hard to get guys to buy

  it for me, though.

  I wait outside a grocery store and ask.

  “Oh.” I can picture the scene clearly.

  “And what do you offer

  them in return for helping you
out?”

  Nothing! Hey, are you jealous? I might

  flirt, but I wouldn’t

  follow through. Once they hand it over,

  I say thanks. That’s it. What do you

  think I am, anyway?

  She unscrews the Cuervo, takes a long

  pull off the bottle, and I’m tempted to tell

  her too much. “How much do

  you drink every day?” I want her to say it’s

  not every day. She doesn’t. I don’t know.

  Enough to relax me, help

  me sleep. Don’t worry. It’s under control.

  Obviously

  It’s under control enough that she has

  finished a pint before

  we even get to the party. By the time

  we spot the bonfire, up on a little mesa,

  she is starting to slur.

  There it is. Hey. D’you think it’s sh-safe

  having a fire up here? Well, she’s clear

  enough to think about

  that, she’s probably not too drunk. Yet.

  “Considering this place was under

  snow not long ago,

  I think we’ll be fine. I’ll turn around

  and park downhill just in case, though.”

  Some twenty cars are

  already lined up along the escape route.

  I park below them, so it’s a long uphill

  walk to join the people

  gathered around the fire. Most have plastic

  cups in their hands, filled with Budweiser

  from the keg someone

  supplied. Heavy smoke, not campfire-scented,

  hangs in the air. I haven’t smelled weed since

  we moved here. Plenty

  of it in Oakland, though I never indulged.

  Jenna, big surprise, goes straight for

  the group passing

  the blunt. Hey, Bobby. Hey, Aubree.

  She sucks in a lungful of green-smelling

  weed. Tries not to cough

  as she says, Did you hear about Sean?

  His lawyer says they have enough evidence

  for a trial. She offers me

  the J. I decline, and she passes it on to

  the Bobby person. Yeah, I know. He thought

  Coach was gonna

  kick him off the team, but they’re letting him

  stay, at least until he gets convicted, if he

  does. You don’t think

  Cara will actually testify against him?

  I have no idea what they’re talking about,

  and I’m starting to feel

  like scenery. “Going for beer. Want one?”

  Jenna rolls her eyes, meaning, “Duh.”

  I start through the sage

  toward the keg. As I go, I hear Bobby

  say, So that’s the dancer? What do

  you see in him?

  Aren’t all guy dancers, like, gay?

  Everyone laughs, and I’m glad I’m

  gone, though I might

  like to be a mosquito on Bobby’s arm.

  A big mosquito, proboscis jammed

  deeply into an artery.

  Except, wait. That sounds vaguely gay.

  Suddenly It Occurs To Me

  That not only has Jenna talked about

  me, she considers me

  a dancer. Have I been labeled? Branded?

  I fill two cups, return to the group, hand

  Jenna her beer.

  Don’t think she needs it. Between the dope

  and the tequila, she is weaving. I put

  an arm around her

  shoulders to steady her. “You okay?”

  She nods, but doesn’t look so hot. I pull

  her closer, put my mouth

  against her ear. “We can leave if you want.”

  Bobby shoots me with a jealous glare.

  So … dancer. Thanks

  for loaning me your girl the other night.

  “The other night? Wha …” Before he can

  clarify, Jenna jerks forward

  and in one gigantic heave, up comes dinner.

  Cara

  One Gigantic Heave

  Of planet, one massive

  yank of gravity, one

  magmatic tidal wave.

  The ground

  shakes.

  A silent passing,

  moon bold in rotation,

  a shadowy eclipse.

  The sun

  disappears.

  Kiss meets kiss, a mist

  of eloquence, a gathering

  of storm clouds.

  The rain

  begins to fall.

  A lift of hips, upwelling

  in the belly. A torrent

  in the V of opened thighs.

  The earth

  moves.

  Other People

  Have always seen me as strong.

  That was a lie. A charade. A disguise

  I wore to keep me safe in public.

  The truth is, I’ve always been afraid

  of letting anyone get too close. I

  built a wall around me, a barricade

  to hide behind those few times

  someone wanted entry to my heart.

  Love, I thought, was the biggest

  fraud of all. Sleight of hand,

  designed to hold you, cage you,

  when flight suited you well.

  But my wings are unfolding, and

  I’m learning to fly beyond the barrier

  of fear. There is freedom in love.

  But not if you have to hide it.

  Not Much Chance

  Of that anymore. I even had to

  come out to my parents. Because

  of the mess with Sean, there wasn’t

  much else I could do. Not if I wanted

  him stopped. Dani and I talked it

  over, and I saw that she was right

  when she told me the best way

  to fight all the ugly gossip was to

  admit it happened. And that took

  the power away from Sean. Once

  I accepted that, I knew the only

  way to keep him out of my life

  forever was to file a police report.

  To manage that, I had to involve my

  mom and dad. It took more than

  one try to break down and do it.

  First I had to find a time when

  they were home, together, and in

  relatively passive moods. Then

  I had to tether doubt and fear.

  The Day The Stars Aligned

  I found them in Dad’s study, writing

  a letter. Together. Totally weird.

  Dad looked nervous. Mom, focused.

  “May I come in? What are you doing?”

  We’re composing a letter to Conner,

  said Dad. He’s supposed to head out

  on a wilderness challenge. Personally,

  I doubt it will do much good, but

  the letter is for when he has almost

  made it through. Incentive to conquer

  the mountain, so to speak. Now,

  what can your mother and I do for you?

  I almost lost my nerve. Conquering

  my own mountain was looking less

  and less likely. But if I would have

  blown that chance, I might never have

  even tried to get a handle on my life, so

  I reached way down deep into my small

  stash of courage and said, “This is

  important, and I can’t keep it to myself

  anymore.” Mom didn’t even glance

  up from the letter. I plunged ahead

  anyway. “I’ve struggled for years

  to come clean about this, first to

  myself, and now, to you. Mother,

  could you please look at me?” Had

  she ever really looked at me? Dad

  at least pretended
like he cared.

  Mom finally drew her eyes up level

  with mine. “I know this is not on your

  Top Ten Qualities In A Daughter list.

  But I am a lesbian.” It didn’t sink in for

  a good long time, and when it did, it

  only sank so far. Are you saying you’re

  attracted to women? asked Mom.

  I wouldn’t worry too much. Lots of

  adolescents experiment with same-

  sex play. That doesn’t make you

  homosexual. But please don’t let it

  get in the way of a normal relationship.

  It Was The “Normal”

  That got to me. “For your information,

  Mother, I am way above ‘normal,’

  which means average. And this

  is not experimentation. This is love.

  I’ve fought the ‘who’ of me for years.

  I wanted you to know the truth, but

  if you’re not mature enough to handle

  it, I don’t care. This is who I am—

  Straight-A, top of my class, Stanford-

  bound lesbian. There’s something else

  I really need to tell you, but if you can’t

  handle this yet, I’ll wait to bring it up.”

  Mom just sat there staring with

  blue diamond eyes. It was Dad

  who said, Of course we want to

  know what you need to tell us.

  The part about Sean and the pictures

  wasn’t quite as hard to admit. Guess

  the worst part was over by then.

  “Dani said I should press charges….”

  Mom’s eyes grew steadily more

  severe. I think it best to let it drop.

  If this becomes public knowledge,

  the media will smear it all over

  the headlines. Our reputation will

  be ruined. Bad enough we had to

  deal with all the flak about Conner.

  She straightened her blouse, as if it

  had been wrinkled by the very idea

  of her children disgracing her name.

  The resistance only made my resolution

  stronger. “Very sorry to shame you,

  Mother. But he’s stalking me, and