Arizona Allspice (13 page)

and
you tarnish

because
you’re

Retarded.

Though,

why
insult something like you

at
a handicapped person’s expense? When

there
is nothing you can spare. See,

you
have dollars but no damn sense.

I clap my hands together applauding his wittiness. I study Joey’s sleeping form wishing I could see him take a bow with that signature arrogant smile on his lips. 

I helped a girl from school today. She had bruises on her arm. I know all about those. It was so easy to talk with her. It wasn’t like talking to the other girls in school. She didn’t talk about boy bands and sleepovers. Candice was honest and talked about how things weren’t perfect for her. She told me that her grandmother is a mean woman who yells and calls her names and hits her if she doesn’t do her chores right or doesn’t do well on a test.
Everyday
her grandmother reminds her that she’s not supposed to be raising her own granddaughter, but because her daughter is a ‘disappointing tramp’ she has to take on her responsibilities. I like Candice. Not in a romantic way, but I care about her as a friend. So, I came up with the idea to write a letter to her grandmother. Candice helped with some of the wording but basically I pretended to be a social worker that had been alerted by the school counselor about the abuse.

In the letter we called her ‘the vilest she-snake to slither this
earth’(
My line) and threatened her grandmother with either jail time or suing her in court for everything she’s worth (including her two toy poodles who are her prized possessions). It worked! Candice said it was because when I write I sound like an adult. Unfortunately, when I talk I sound like goofy, potty-mouth, thirteen-year-old, me. Candice was so happy I helped her that she gave me a big hug. I felt amazing. I’d done something meaningful. Purposeful! I had a smile on my face the whole day until I came home and looked at my Mom watching television through a black eye and saw how useless I really was. I could kill him. Sometimes I could just kill him.

------

HEART-BEAT

scream-
ing

blood-shot

tight-grip

hot-breath

tear-drop

shak-ing

eyes-shut

hand-clenched

bad-words

punch-
ing

Stop-it!

she-screams

he-keeps

punch-
ing

Momma

a-gain

a-gain

now-
he’s

grasp-
ing

her-neck

chok-ing

Stop-it!

I-scream

He-turns

scowl-
ing

my-wrist

twist-
ing

it-hurts

stomp-
ing

gasp-
ing

crawl-
ing

my-face

bleed-
ing

stag-
ger

up-right

ang-ry

I-scream

my-skin

Burn-
ing

my-fists

go-
ing

His-face

crum-ples

al-most

Dead-now

Momma

stops-
me

Holds-me

cops-come

check-
him

he-
breathes

not-dead
,

Too bad.

My hand trembling, I turn to the next page. It’s blank. I grasp the edge of the blank page.

“Excuse me.” The nurse startles me. “I’m sorry, did I scare you?”

“A little bit,” I admit.

“I wanted to let you know that visiting hours end in ten minutes.”

She steps from the doorway into the room wearing pink Barbie themed scrubs and pink Crocs with her blonde hair in a high ponytail. As she examines Joey’s monitors she says “I overheard you reading. Did you write that poem about the rose?”

“No. Joey wrote it actually.”

Her jaw drops. “He wrote that?” she says pointing at him.

“Yep.”

“Wow. My husband used to write me poetry. It was horribly written but I loved it nonetheless. Of course once the ring was on my finger he didn’t see the point in romancing me anymore. Are you two going out?”

I pause before answering. Do I need to lie to her too? “No. We’re just friends.”

 “Not going out
yet
?” The corner of her mouth pulls up in a smirk.

She must have misinterpreted that pause earlier. “Actually we don’t get along very well.
At all.”

“Let me guess. You like him, but you’re too afraid to tell him?”

“Very funny,” I deadpan.

“Wait, I know!
He
likes
you
but he’s too shy to say it.”

“Okay, Joey is the farthest thing from shy. No way. He tried to add me to his list of conquests back in high school. That’s the type of person he is and I assure you I am not one of his faithful admirers.”

“Sure,” she winks. “Goodnight!”

I roll my eyes at her retreating pink form as she scurries to another room. Reluctantly, I close Joey’s journal and set it on the night table for tomorrow. I move towards the bed and slip my hand into Joey’s warm, slightly rough hand and give it a quick hopeful squeeze. I stare at the stunning contrast of our hands a few seconds and then head home.

I’m lying in bed unable to fall asleep. Joey’s journal entries still have my mind’s attention. A vague memory from freshman year of high school emerges. Joey would bug me to partner up with him for our English class projects. He’d claimed he would be honored to work with me. Considering the shine in his eyes and the laughter of his friends who were listening in on his proposals, I had concluded his intent was to mooch off of me in order to get a good grade. Looking back, we could have made a brilliant team. The phone rings. I look over at the cordless phone on my night stand, the display glowing eerily green in the dark. I recognize the number: a collect call.

“Hey Laney.”

“How long do I have with you?”

“Fifteen minutes.
Until lights out.”

The clock reads 8:45 PM. “Manny, I love you and I’m sorry,” I blurt. “Forget all the things I said before, trying to boss you around and guilt-trip you. Whatever you choose to do I will support you because you’re my brother, no questions asked. I promise.”

“Thanks,” he says.  A long silence settles itself between us like an old family dog. I have to break the silence myself.

“Why haven’t we talked? I don’t just mean since the accident.
Seems like we haven’t talked in months.”

“We can start talking now. I was thinking about something earlier. Do you remember when we were little kids and Dad would yell from in his room telling us to stop laughing, when we weren’t? We were quiet watching
Thundercats
in the living room. We should have known then, but we loved him so much we didn’t think any further, couldn’t think there was something wrong with him.”

“Yes. We never talk about the past. And…I know there’s something you’re not telling me. We never keep secrets, remember?”