Crank (2 page)

Like it was his business. He

reached for his Marlboros, took

one, offered the pack. My lip

curled. He lit up anyway.

Quit once. Your mother bitched

me out of the habit.

I watched him inhale, blow

smoke signals. Exhale. Beyond the ochre haze, city turned to suburbs. Not pretty suburbs.

25

She was the bitch queen. I started

again soon as I moved out.

The Geo limped into a weather-chewed parking

lot. I escaped the front

seat. Aired out in blistering heat.

Here we are. Home sweet home.

What's mine is yours.

I'd made an awful mistake.

Daddy wasn't the Prince of

Albuquerque. He was the King of Cliché.

26

You

Call This a Castle?

Cracked cement ramparts, a less than mighty bastion, swamp cooler overflow, drool down the battlement.

Behind the stockade walls, faceless generals barked

orders to their private troops, drilled their little soldiers.

* *

Welcome to my castle.

* *

You call this a castle?

Heat throbbing off the parking lot convinced me to chance crumbling stairs.

And there, step four, flight two,

I bumped into my White Knight.

Okay, maybe more like gray.

I'll compromise with silver.

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Not My Type

No shirt

hot bod.

His, that is.

So why did

I

break out in a sweat?

* *

No shoes

barefoot, bare chest, with a bare, baby face to make the angels sing.

* *

Nothing but ragged

cut-offs, hugging a tawny six pack, and a smile.

28

No pin up pretty boy

could touch, a smile that

zapped every cell.

He was definitely

* *

not my type.

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At

Least I Had Something

to think about besides my dad's

less than palatial

apartment.

* *

If he qualified

As royalty in this true

blue collar

kingdom,

* *

I had zero desire to see how the working class

lived.

30

D

ad Had to Go to Work

Work?

You've heard of work.

You couldn't take

one day off?

You don't know my boss.

Does he know about me?

She knows you're here.

Your daughter

comes to visit...

She doesn't know.

Know what?

That you're my daughter.

Who am I, then?

A long-lost relative.

31

H

e Worked in a Bowling Alley

Under the table,

so I don't screw

up my disability.

* *

Unsticking stuck

balls, fitting stinky

shoes, collecting

cash from the crop

du jour of the great unwashed.

* *

No one there's

gonna tell. They

got their own secrets,

* *

No worries about bubblegum, athlete's

foot, or the current

flu, passed bill to bill, ball to ball, shoe to shoe.

* *

Like who's making

out in the back room,

who's striking out.

32

Geo unlocked in a parking lot

where the color of your jacket might

mean your life, wrong

night, wrong time.

* *

It's not the best

neighborhood, but

hey, come along.

33

I

Opted Out

Long trip, long day, no thanks,

I'll stay.

* *

Okay.

34

Not

Quite Silent

The empty boxes

Dad imagined

rooms.

* *

Glurp... glurp... glurp

* *

Hot drops into deep kitchen

stainless.

* *

Plunk......... plunk

* *

Cool drips on chipped bathroom

porcelain.

* *

Chh-ka-chh

* *

Sleepy branches

scratching bedroom

glass.

35

You crazy sonofabitch!

* *

Neighbors through thin plaster

walls.

36

T

he Screaming

flashed me back to a time

when Mom and Dad were still together

if you could call

miles apart together.

* *

Leigh and I would huddle close under the blankets, whispering, as if the whispers of two little girls

could blot out the barrage of hateful words beyond our bedroom's thin plaster walls.

Dad's vicious slurred epithets came through too loud and too clear.

37

But it is Mom's low, level threats I best remember.

You

do not deserve these children and

when

I'm through with you in court

you'll

be lucky to get visitation.

* *

She was right.

And I still had not forgiven her.

Maybe he wasn't perfect.

But he was still my dad.

38

Of Course, When I Was Little

I didn't understand the terminology of words like infidelity.

Nor the implications of my father's sundry

addictions.

I only knew my wicked

mother took us far away, kept us far apart.

* *

Time passed, with little

word from Dad.

* *

But, having experienced

Mom's growing

frustration at a stalled career and family life's daily

limitations

I put the blame squarely on her. As for Dad,

I could have forgiven

39

him pretty much anything, even his silence.

* *

As long as I could forever

stay his little princess.

40

Okay, Over the

Last Few Years

I may have gained a little perspective.

Mom struggled to raise two kids on her own, at least until Scott

blundered into her life.

* *

Jake was a late addition, one the workout queen accepted

* * and loved despite killer stretch marks and sure-to-sag-even-more boobs.

* *

As for Dad, well, truth be told, his love of drugs surpassed his love of family.

* *

And when we were small, he just

happened to install cable TV, giving him every opportunity

41

to experience the wild side of bored, stay-at-home housewives, eager for entertainment.

* *

So it was, perhaps, ironic

that I discovered...

42

D

ad Hadn't Paid His Cable Bill

Three fuzzy channels

hissed and spit a rerun of

Friends,

extra-inning baseball, and soap opera, en español.

* *

I should have gone

straight to bed, counted cracks in the ceiling.

Instead, I went outside.

* *

Cigarette smoke, toxic curls in the stairwell at my feet, soft voices rising, pheromone fog.

* *

He was still there, my silver knight, flirting with some

fallen Guinivere in short shorts and a cropped T.

43

I kept to the shadows, observing the game

I hadn't dared play, absorbing the rules with adhesive eyes.

44

T

he Rules

Uncomplicated, this

child's game.

* *

He says,

Please?

She says, "Can't."

He,

Why not?

She, "I'm not that kind of a girl."

* *

Then she spends twenty

minutes disproving the theory, until

* *

Mother calls,

Hija!

She answers, "Mama?"

Mother,

Come inside now.

She, "Be right there."

* *

It's a lie. He pulls her into his lap, silencing

meager protests with full-lipped kisses.

45

He insists,

Now.

She resists, "Later."

He,

Promise?

She, "Cross my heart."

46

S

he Went Inside

I wasn't sure if I felt more

disappointed or relieved.

Guinivere really had him.

* *

So I shouldn't want him. Should I?

I didn't really want his perfect

pout, reaching hungrily for my own timid lips.

* *

I didn't have a clue how to kiss.

Didn't really want his hands, investigating the hills and valleys of my landscape.

* *

I'd never been touched by a boy.

Didn't want his face, burrowing into my hair, finding my neck. Tasting.

* *

I'd never even said hello to such a complete stranger.

Didn't want his smoke, making me gag, making me

want to taste something so gross.

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It was all so confusing, I mean,

I didn't want a boyfriend, no summer fling to make

me want to stay in this alien place.

* *

Anyway, I'd be speechless if he asked.

48

I

Must Have Moaned

Hey

.

He popped above the stairs suddenly, a wild-eyed Jack-in-the-box, anticipating the pay-off crank.

Oh, it's you.

Like he knew me, knew I had no life, suspected I'd come

spying, set up the game

just for me.

I waited for you.

I coughed a hello, stamping sweaty

palm prints into not-so

wrinkle-free jeans.

Could he read minds?

49

I know what you're thinking.

Smile. Nod. Say

something witty before he finds

out what an incredible

geek you are.

That you're too good for me.

He topped the staircase, slinked closer, golden

eyes narrowing, reached

out and touched the flush of my cheek.

But you're wrong.

50

The

Wind Blew Up

My mind raced.

My heart joined in.

I shook my head, mute as snowfall.

What, then? Why do you look

At me that way?

What could I say?

That some stranger inside me couldn't

keep her eyes off him?

I know you can talk. I heard

you before.

I felt her stir, like a breeze blowing up off the evening sea. My

wind had awakened.

You know, you're kind of cute,

in a stuck-up sort of way.

She pumped through my veins in hot, red

bursts. Blood pressure

rose in my face, blush.

51

You here for the summer? What's

your name?

Her tongue curled

easily behind my teeth, and her words melted between my lips.

* *

"My friends call me Bree."

52

Bree?

Who Was She?

And where did that name

come from? I'd probably

heard it once in my life!

Pretty name, Bree.

Okay, good call.

Confidence flooded our

brain like hormones.

Our turn. Who was he?

My friends call me Buddy.

Hardly a handle for a white knight.

Bree asked for the name on his birth certificate.

Mom called me Adam.

Better. We liked it. So

why didn't he use it?

(Forgetting completely about the Kristina thing.)

Hard name to live up to.

Not really. It isn't hard to fall from grace. Revisit

Genesis. Maybe I'll go with you. Might be fun.

53

You're a

strange girl.

I had to agree. What was up with this person,

Bree? And was she a permanent fixture?

But I'd like to get to know you.

54

I

Wanted to Know Him, Too

Wanted to know