I SAID THOSE LYING WORDS.
I’d believed them then.
Sometimes, I think I still believe them now.
I yank my hands out of his grasp,
Clutch my belly.
I can’t believe I still have tears inside,
But they keep coming,
Fast and furious over my skin
Until I’m sure my cheeks are wrinkled.
Why do those words hurt so much?
They haven’t even been said lately,
Here,
Now,
But I hear them in my head,
In my own voice,
And they hurt.
HE REACHES FOR ME,
Gathers me into his circle of safety,
Curls my body into his lap,
His arms strong and right around me.
He’s lost inside himself,
Just as I am inside of myself.
I hear my mom’s words from that fateful morning
Over and over.
“Eleanor, honey.”
Pause,
Cough,
Shuffle.
“El, there’s been an accident.
It’s Honesty.”
Pause,
Cough,
Shuffle.
Mom took a deep breath,
The sound punctuating the silence like a series of gunshots.
“She’s…”
Pause.
Shuffle.
Sob.
“Honey, she’s gone.”
With those three words,
My world shattered.
They pounded around inside my head,
Morphed into different three-word sentences.
You did this.
It’s your fault.
Travis went alone.
It’s my fault.
Elly, please stay.
I love you.
Please forgive me.
Always and forever.
I SAID THOSE WORDS,
With my voice,
In his bedroom.
I said those words and
Made Trav smile,
Barely a movement of his mouth,
Made him tug on my hands.
I said those words and
His invitation was crystal clear.
I joined him in bed,
Held him close, his head against my heartbeat,
Hoped to infuse him with enough love to make up for his missing-since-birth father
And his messed-up mother.
Before I knew it,
His mouth found mine and
We kissed and
Kissed and
Kissed
Until kissing wasn’t enough to
Fill the void in our lives.
TRAV PROVIDES THE SHELTERING I NEED,
The calm from the storms of my life,
The anchor in a brutal world
Of working mothers,
Wounded fathers,
Sub-par grades,
An uncertain
Future.
Before, the future didn’t matter.
Only being with Trav mattered.
Inside the safety of his arms,
I allow myself to remember.
After Mom said, “Honey, she’s gone,”
After I’d stopped crying,
We’d gone to see Honesty’s mother.
She stood when we entered,
Wiped her tears,
Welcomed us with kind words.
She relayed the details of the accident to my mom.
While I listened,
I held back tears,
Words,
Truth.
“I don’t know what she was thinking,”
Honesty’s mom said,
One hand clutching her throat.
“Why would she leave in the middle of a snowstorm?”
I knew why,
I knew she wasn’t thinking,
I knew everything that had forced her into that street.
I said nothing.
She’d taken Trav’s keys,
But not his car.
She’d walked the city streets,
But not too far.
She’d been hit by a sliding-on-ice van,
She’d smashed the windshield with her skull,
Injured her spine,
Broken two ribs,
Her right arm,
Her left leg.
I’d broken our friendship,
Her spirit,
Everything.
I punished myself by keeping my promise to her,
And cutting Trav off,
Refusing his phone calls,
Doing my best to disappear.
The way she had.
THE QUIET IN THE ELEVATOR
Is the perfect background for the memories
Circling inside my mind.
I used to avoid this pain,
These thoughts,
All remembrances.
“When did you know you liked me?” I ask,
To cut the silence,
To curb the desire to find solace in Travis.
He answers immediately.
“The first time I kissed Honesty.”
He says her name so easily,
Inhales,
Tightens his grip on my body.
“I knew as soon as I did it,
That it should’ve been you.”
For some reason, this hurts more than anything else,
More than the past five months of silence,
Of bearing burdens solo that he should’ve shared with me,
More than seeing Honesty lying in that casket,
More than never seeing her again.
Because he still went out with her,
Still asked her to prom.
He shouldn’t have done that.
He could’ve chalked it up to a romantic day,
Or the chocolate,
Or almost anything else.
He didn’t.
“WHAT ABOUT YOU?”
“What about me?” I ask,
Though I know exactly what he’s asking.
I need more time to answer,
More time to order the words,
More time to arrange the lie on my tongue.
“Oh, come on. When did you know you liked me?”
I raise one shoulder in a shrug,
Unable to pinpoint when,
Or at least unable to vocalize it.
The feelings I have for Trav
Seem to have existed inside me forever.
“I know when,” he says.
“Or, at least when I figured it out.”
I wait for him to tell me,
Hope I haven’t been completely transparent.
“When you called me to reschedule our shopping trip.
Remember that? The day I asked Honesty to prom?”
“I remember,” I murmur,
Wish someone would cut the cable on this elevator,
Send us plummeting to the basement.
Suddenly, I don’t want to talk about—us.
“I heard it in your voice.
Or I thought I did.
You said you couldn’t go because she was coming over,
And you’d be ‘tied up for hours.’
You sounded like you’d rather eat seafood
Than spend the afternoon with her.”
The seafood comment
Makes me sob/smile.
The seafood comment
Reminds me of how well Trav knows me,
How much I miss him,
How much we’ve shared.
The seafood comment
Also reminds me of how much he’s missed,
How much I haven’t told him,
How much I blame him.
“SO I SUSPECTED.
When we went to the florist,
I watched you.
You eyed the flowers like you wanted to sprout claws,
Rip them to r
ibbons.
I saw the jealousy in your every move,
Hoped it was because I hadn’t asked you,
And not just because no one had asked you.”
“But I really knew when we got back to the building.
The elevator came;
You just stood there.
I took your hand,
Pulled you in,
Saw the look on your face…”
He trails off as if remembering something valuable.
I REMEMBER THAT DAY
When he touched me,
Knowing that we would be good together,
Knowing I wouldn’t be whole without him,
Knowing if I ever loved again, it wouldn’t be like this.
“Our hands fit together,” I say,
Craving that touch,
Craving the past,
Craving what can’t be repeated.
“I was so happy,” he murmurs back.
“I should’ve called her,
Told her everything,
Asked you to prom instead.
I’m sorry, Elly.”
My chest shudders with his apology,
The words sound true,
Real,
Genuine.
I want to tell him that it’s okay,
But it’s so far from okay I can’t even name what it is.
“I didn’t kiss her at all after I kissed you,” he continues,
Drives the pin deeper into my heart.
“She told me.”
Somehow, knowing this makes me
Love him more.
Even when I want to hate him,
I can’t.
“IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT.”
Trav’s words echo in the elevator,
Push deeper,
Deeper,
Invading my mind like they might be true,
Like I might be able to believe him
Someday.
“It’s mine, Elly, and mine alone.
I should’ve waited to get a hold of you.”
I breathe in the smell of his detergent,
Press my face right over his heartbeat.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But she—”
I cut myself off,
Unsure if I should reveal this secret,
Knowing he’ll hate me.
Really hate me.
I CAN’T STOP MYSELF FROM REMEMBERING.
And now,
Now,
Now I know I won’t be able to stop myself from telling him.
LAST WINTER, I STOOD IN MY ROOM,
Stared at the calendar.
Three weeks.
Three weeks,
Three weeks since the ballet.
Last winter,
My muscles felt like they’d been run over,
Run over,
Run over with an eighteen-wheeler full of I-can’t-believe-it-what-will-everyone-think?
Last winter,
It took two rounds
Two rounds,
Two rounds of bubble gum, bubble gum
For me to pick up the twenty dollar bill.
The best three out of five coin tosses to get dressed.
Where to go? Eenie, meenie, miney, mo.
The C-station on the corner.
It had rained overnight,
Coated the sidewalk with ice.
I slipped,
Cut my palm when I fell,
Stuffed my hand in my pocket,
Pulled my hood over my face.
Once there, I grabbed the first available box,
Kept my hood up when I paid for it.
Back home,
My hand dripped bright red streaks into the sink.
My fingers gripped the white stick.
My hood couldn’t block the sight
Of those
two
little
pink
lines.
TRAV’S PATIENCE IS ENDLESS,
Maddening,
Adorable.
His arm around me stiffens slightly,
The only indication that he’s desperate for me to keep talking.
“She seemed okay for most of it,”
I force myself to say.
The words sound cramped in my mouth,
Too big for this giant elevator,
Too dangerous to keep inside any longer.
“She only flipped out when I told her about the baby.”
The last word is a whisper,
A dream,
A curse.
THE SECRET,
The pregnancy,
The baby,
Ate at me,
Took complete control of my thoughts,
Left no room for anything,
Or anyone,
Else.
I fell off the map,
Didn’t eat for fear I’d throw up,
And then Mom would know.
I didn’t help her
In the kitchen on Christmas Eve for fear the smell would make me sick,
For fear she would know.
I wasn’t brave,
Didn’t tell her,
Didn’t want her to know.
I wasn’t responsible,
With Trav,
With anything,
And eventually everyone would know.
A Skype chat with Dad was scheduled before the feast.
Both events made me nauseous.
I couldn’t eat,
Couldn’t breathe,
Couldn’t look at Daddy for more than four seconds
Before he would know.
“Elly, Dad’s ready for you.”
Mom knocked on my bedroom door,
But didn’t come in.
“The twins are almost done.
Dinner’s almost ready too.”
“Just a minute,” I called,
Swallowed the nausea,
Pressed my fingernails into my palms just to prove I could still feel it.
I made sure my shirt didn’t cling to my stomach,
Even though I wasn’t showing a single bit.
I felt huge,
The secret swelling until everyone would know about the life inside me.
I sat in front of the computer,
Not looking at Daddy,
Not looking at anything,
Waiting for Mom to herd the twins away.
Dad didn’t say anything,
Sensed this conversation would belong to me.
“HEY, DADDY,” I STARTED,
Wiped the tears already sliding down my face.
Over the past couple weeks,
I’d learned how to cry silently,
So Mom wouldn’t hear,
So the twins wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night,
So I could pretend my reality was just a nightmare.
“Travis?” Dad asked.
I nodded,
Over and over,
Like it was the only thing my head could do.
“Tell me everything, Honeybee.”
His voice, caring and parental even half a world away,
Yanked on my already-fragile heart.
I couldn’t speak.
I didn’t need to.
Daddy already knew.
“Tell me you’re not pregnant.”
This time,
His voice hurt.
I couldn’t tell him that,
Couldn’t tell him anything.
As if he stood in front of me,
I felt my dad wrap his arms around me,
Felt the scratch of his beard against my cheek,
Felt the depth of his emotion,
When he said, “We’ll get through this, Eleanor.
I love you.”
TRAV’S GRIP TIGHENS.
My fingers protest.
A strangled noise grinds in my throat.
“Elly?”
Trav sounds half-hopeful,
Half-horrified.
I shake my head.
I st
ill don’t have the words.
DADDY TALKED,
Soothing words that didn’t register in my ears,
Until he said, “I take it your mom doesn’t know.”
I swallowed back the panic.
“Please, you can’t tell her.
I have to—
I will—
I’ll do it. I swear. I just—”
He nodded,
Just once,
Said again, “I love you, Eleanor.
We’ll get through this.”
His eyes glowed,
Dark coals of intensity,
“What about the boy?
Have you told him?”
That conversation had run through my mind a thousand times,
Circled,
Swirled,
Whirled.
I still hadn’t found the right way to begin a conversation
With Travis that ended with the words,
“I’m pregnant.”
I still hadn’t said the words out loud,
Even to myself.
I shook my head.
“Well, Elly, he deserves to know.”
“I know, sir.”
I escaped back to my room,
Endured Christmas dinner,
Managed to make it through without eating very much
And speaking even less.