Tilt Page 8
But then he claims, Oh, God, I love you, too.
And we’re kissing again. And we’re halfway
to naked as we fall, tangled, on the bed.
Any Small Sense of Fear
Vanishes as logic dissolves in desire
heightened by declarations of love.
I love him. And he says he loves me.
Alex slows forward movement.
I don’t want to hurry. I want to
commit every second to memory.
We lie on our sides, looking into
each other’s eyes as our hands
begin slow, mutual exploration.
There is no top, no bottom here.
There is only the web of us. Outside
the big window, the sky grows dark,
except for the far distant stars
I can see, fighting the garish
lit neon. I don’t have to think
about what to do. Mouth. Tongue.
Hands. Skin. All in perfect order.
And now, there are fireworks.
Alex
Fireworks
I have been in love before—
snared by emotion so intense,
deception by omission was easy.
But lies smother love. And in the wake
of my confession came a white-hot
sizzle
of anger. I deserved every hateful
word. Lying here, inhaling new love,
hope swells inside me. Skin against
skin, I lose myself within the sharp
crackle
of passion, freed by embracing
the truth I cannot change.
I find slender rays of fear
in his eyes, yet he places his trust
in me and I will not
shatter
that. I blanket his body with mine.
Tattoo him with pleasure.
Lead him to the edge of the cliff,
push him over, feel him fly,
wings beating softly in the promise of
this night.
Harley
This Night
Is probably the best one ever
in my entire life. Mom and I have
done fireworks in Sparks (yeah,
I get the irony) since I was a little
kid. We hang out in the big plaza,
waiting for the sun to go down
and the sky to grow really dark.
There is live music. Food. Craft
booths. People pitch sunshades,
put down blankets. Grown-ups
drink too much alcohol, which
is sometimes entertaining.
Usually it’s just Mom and me,
and maybe one of my friends.
But tonight we’re hanging with
Dad and Cassie and Chad, too.
Mom looks kind of pissy because
Dad is pretty drunk and Cassie
isn’t far behind. Mom says she has
to play chaperone, so she’s sober.
Oh, well. Liquor is fattening.
Mom is starting to look good.
Our diet is working. The shorts
I’m wearing are a whole size
smaller than the ones I wore
last year. I swear, I think guys
are checking me out. Maybe
it’s good Bri didn’t come along.
For once, I’m getting the attention.
Some of that is from girls, too.
Mostly because every time I ask
to go get a drink or check out
the band, Cassie tells Chad he has
to go with me. Lots of crazies out
there, you know. We have to keep
our Harley girl safe. She’s sort of
slurring now—ourharleey girlshafe.
But that’s okay. It only makes Chad
want to walk around more. And I can
find plenty of excuses to go along.
There Are Couples Everywhere
Holding hands. Making out.
Dancing real, real close. I wish
Chad would hold my hand, but
the closest he’s come to that is
propping an arm on my shoulder.
Whatever! He actually touched me!
We slice through the crowd.
For some reason, people get out
of Chad’s way. He doesn’t seem
to notice. “What’s it like, having
my dad live with you? My mom
thinks he’s a jerk. Do you?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. Totally.
That’s all Mom ever hooks up with.
But as jerks go, he’s low voltage.
Should I be mad he thinks Dad’s
a jerk? Probably not. Lots of people
do, including Gram and Gramps.
“What do you mean, ‘low voltage’?”
We keep walking, aiming nowhere
in particular. But he stops in front
of the antique steam train taking
up space on a downtown sidewalk.
He watches the kids crawling over
the engine like ants. Low voltage
means nothing he does shocks
me. Mom has had worse losers
hanging on. Including my asshole
dad. Now, he was high voltage.
Bastard beat Mom black and blue.
Almost killed me once. They locked
him up for twenty-five years, and
that isn’t even close to long enough.
I hope he rots there. And before
he does, I hope some con with a giant
dick makes him his little bitch.
Subzero Cold
That’s what that was, and little
shivers work their way up my spine,
despite the warmth of the evening.
I really don’t know what to say,
except for the lamest thing ever.
“I’m sorry.” The look he gives lets
me know he concurs with my lame
assessment. What are you sorry about?
I shrug. “I’m sorry he hurt you.
At least my dad’s a nonviolent jerk.”
Chad’s turn to shrug. I was in
the hospital for a while, but I was little
and barely remember it. What
I do remember is how much I hate him.
That explains why Chad is frozen.
I want to be the one who thaws him.
But I don’t know where to start.
Don’t know what he likes in a girl.
“Did you ever have a girlfriend?”
Okay, that must have been a dumb
question because he bayonets me
with his eyes. Of course I’ve had
a girlfriend. What do you think
I am, a eunuch or something?
My face is on fire. “No. That’s not . . .
I mean, will you tell me about her?”
What do you want to know?
She was hot as hell and a total
skank, and I really kind of loved
her that way. He smiles at my
obvious discomfort. “Oh. Why
aren’t you together anymore?”
She dumped me for another guy.
Girls are impossible to satisfy.
“Not every girl.” Not me. I’d be
happy if he’d just like me a little.
Suddenly, Someone Yells
Chad’s name. He waves at a guy
cutting through the crowd. Stay here,
he tells me. I’ll be right back.
I watch him go meet his friend,
a kind of cute guy with dark blond
hair. They talk for a few, leaving me
to wonder what about. Me? Not
me? Is Chad ashamed to be seen
with me? How can I change that?
How can I get him to like me
a little? Or, better yet, to like me
because she was skanky. Does that
mean because she dressed like a sleaze,
or because she put out like one?
These shorts are about as sleazy
as I know how to get. Chad did lean
his arm on my shoulder today.
Could my shorts be the reason why?
Now He Waves Me Over
To where he’s standing with
his friend. Awesome. He must
not be ashamed of me after all.
I hurry toward them, arrive just
a little bit breathless. Chad says,
Hey, sweetheart. Would you please
get me a Coke? Here’s a five-spot.
Lucas and I will wait right here.
Sweetheart! Oh. My. God.
“S-sure,” I manage to sputter around
the giant lump that has formed in my
throat. Before I go find a snack stand,
I give him the prettiest smile
I know how to—the one I practice
in the mirror. The concession line
is kind of long and the whole time
I stand in it, one word keeps
repeating in my head. Sweetheart.
Finally, I get the soda, pocket
the change so I don’t lose it.
But When I Turn Around
I can’t see Chad anywhere. No Chad.
No Lucas. I look everywhere, but no sign
of them. Maybe they needed a restroom.
I wait at our designated meeting spot.
Wait. And wait. It’s getting really dark
now. They’ll shoot off the fireworks
any second. Maybe I’d better go on
back to Mom. Did he ditch me? No
way. That can’t be. He called me
sweetheart. I reach our blanket just
as the first gigantic sparkler paints
the sky red. Mom is pacing, worried.
Where have you been? And where
is Chad? She turns dagger eyes on
Cassie and Dad, who are too drunk
to notice. “I, uh . . . I guess he ditched
me.” Mom hugs me to her and I watch
the rainbow explosions, blurred by
traitor tears. He called me sweetheart.
Lucas
Traitor
When Chad wanted to
ditch his little girlfriend
in favor of a fat, stinky blunt,
I asked if he felt like
a traitor.
I mean, he did desert her,
and considering the way she
looked at him—like he was a god
or something—she’s probably
feeling like shit. But Chad
has no
connection with her except
his mom hooking up with
her dad, at least that’s what
he says. Considering, like me,
the dude lacks any sort of
moral
filters, that girl is in for
a world of hurt, unless
she follows the unwritten
code
of unrequited love: When
it all gets too heavy for comfort,
scream bloody murder and run.
Mikayla
I Wanted to Scream
When Mom caught me with Dylan
at the baseball game. I wanted to
grab his hand and run until we had
to stop or risk bursting lungs. But
I had nowhere to run to. So I stole
another kiss, tucked my tail and
followed my mother back to our seats.
Watched the game and fireworks in
silence, knowing I would not be
ungrounded for some time. Turns out
that was a wise move, because Mom
talked Dad into letting me off the hook
early. We have to give her a chance
to earn back our trust, she told him.
I’m pretty damn sure I’m not worthy
of that. But, hey, at least I’m free.
So When Emily Called
And said she needed a ride
somewhere, I said I’d be right
over. As much as I want to see
Dylan, he is in Stockton right now,
helping his big sister move into
a place near the University of the Pacific,
where she’ll be a freshman in
the fall. Dylan is such a sweetheart.
I’ll see him later. Right now, I’m
just happy to be out of my house,
on my own. I pull up in front of Em’s
house, text her that I’m here. Don’t want
to chance running into yet another
boyfriend. She and Clay didn’t last long.
Mostly because he never broke up with
Audrey, who still happens to be a friend
of mine (if not Em’s!), further complicating
things. Can’t people commit anymore?
Em Comes Straight Out
So there must not be a guy stashed
in her bedroom. “Hey, girl,” I say
as she slides into the passenger seat.
“What’s wrong with your car?”
She smiles. Nothing. I just didn’t
want to take it where we’re going.
Say what? “Where are we going?
Montebello?” The heart of Reno
gangbanger turf. If she says yes,
I’m seriously changing my mind.
No, silly. Planned Parenthood. I have
a checkup so I can get on a new pill.
Unbelievable! This girl has nerve.
“Great. So now my car will be parked
there for all of Reno to see? I swear,
Em, if you weren’t my best friend . . .”
But I am, so it’s cool, right? Anyway,
your car isn’t as noticeable as mine.
That part is true. She drives a lemon-
yellow Camaro—a sorry I’m never
around, but this proves I love you
car, as she puts it. “Okay, fine.
But don’t say you don’t owe me.”
I aim my unnoticeable silver Nissan
toward Planned Parenthood. While
I’m there I should make an appointment
for myself. I need to get on the pill.
But the idea of some strange doctor
touching me there creeps me out.
“So isn’t the gynecologist thing gross?”
Kind of, yeah. But . . . wait. You haven’t
done it yet? You don’t use birth control?
“Well, yeah, but you know . . .
rubbers and whatnot.” It’s the what-
not that’s kind of scary. But I don’t
feel like giving her the dirty details.
Better than nothing, I guess. But
God, be careful. Preggers would suck.
No Freaking Kidding
The parking lot is jam-packed.
I pull into a space next to another
little silver car, not much different
from mine. Unless people have
my license plate memorized,
we’re pretty much incognito.
Emily goes to check in, then sits
next to me in an ugly orange plastic
chair. There must be two dozen
women, waiting to be called in
for checkups, HIV screenings,
and other services. This is the kind
of place where you don’t look
other people in the eye. I watch
little kids run back and forth,
or play with puzzles that have
seen better days. The building
smells old so I spritz perfume.
Finally, a nurse calls Em’s name.
This shouldn’t ta
ke too long unless
I get the cute doctor. She winks.
Disgusting and funny, all at
the same time. I pull out my
cell and text something totally
suggestive to Dylan, then start
playing SmackShot. I’m so
absorbed in just missing bull’s-
eyes that I barely notice someone
sit down next to me. Hey, Mikki.
Long time no see. It’s Audrey,
and she looks pretty awful. Pale.
Shaky. “Yeah, I guess it has been
a while. How’s your summer?”
Not wonderful. I, uh . . . She looks
around. Clears her throat. Drops her
voice to a whisper. Was pregnant.
Past Tense
Was pregnant. The words drop
like stones, into a pond: plunk, plunk.
First the “pregnant.” What a horrible
thing to deal with. Then the “was,”
which means, what? Considering
where we are, I have a pretty good
idea. “Wow, Audrey, I don’t know
what to say. Did you . . . uh . . . ?”
She draws her eyes level with mine,
and though she keeps her voice low,
it is thick with anger. What else
could I do? Everyone told me I had
no choice—Mom, Dad, Clay. “What
about senior year? What about college?”
Mocking. No choice. How ironic, you
know? Now she looks down into her lap.
I—I can’t stop thinking about the baby.
Was it a girl? A boy? It already had
a heartbeat. I realize it would have been
hard to keep it. But . . . what if . . . ?
The Sentence Remains Unfinished
Because apparently Emily’s doctor
wasn’t the cute one. She’s already
finished, prescription in hand. She
comes bouncing along the corridor,
slows when she sees who’s sitting
next to me. I can feel Audrey tense.
I didn’t know she was here. You
can’t tell her, Mikki, okay? I’ll die
if she finds out. Considering the dirty
chalk color of Audrey’s face, Em will
probably guess what’s up. But I promise,
“I won’t tell.” Does this mean Audrey
knows—or, at least, suspects—Emily
and Clay hooked up? I hurry to ask,
“Are you and Clay, uh, doing okay?”