nikkik
I think it might even be considered a type of torture to bring a kid to the Native American art history museum. Now that Charlie was off at college, I no longer had anyone to tell me when to schedule orthodontist appointments so I could ditch field trips. Mom had heard about the trip the same day I had: from Lisa's mom, who heard it from Jenna's mom, who heard it from Mack's mom--naturally.
"I can't wait! It's been so long since you could go on a field trip." She was way too enthusiastic. "'Something spooky about those orthodontist appointments always popping up the same days as the trips. I'm so glad we get to go now. I've been waiting for this!" I didn't like where this was going. "I've signed up as a chaperone, honey! We can explore together!"
The boy with horns whispered, and told me he was Spring.
I have circles under my eyes, holding the star-lit dreams that I never claimed. They're brimming with a thousand memories I'll never have and sometimes their ashes are left behind in the creases of the books I use instead of pillows, and sometimes in the creases of my eyelids.
CONVICTION
My eyes convict themselves of tyranny upon the reflection in my ruined mirror. Water stains in tiny, splashed circles mark the time I cried, but my eyes are far beyond that now. I've stopped crying.
I lay my head on your stomach, and hear the air circulate through your lungs; I hear your heart beat like the sound of approaching thunder.
MYSTERY
"Yes," her words slithered from her mouth in a snake of condensation, "but who ARE you, boy?" He strained his eyes to see her ghosty figure. He didn't answer. He didn't know.
So there they both were, standing in the cracked, pale light, and neither of them knew who they were. This was going to be some adventure.
ANTLERS
"They called her the hoofed girl and they said she lived in the pine forest just south of here. Don't hear much about her though, 'cept on coooold days like this when everyone's trapped in their houses from here to Igostav. Th' say the wind brings her on its breath and she finds the wanderers, the stragglers in the snow--sucks the life right out of 'em with a kiss." Adrian and I huddled closer as the wind creaked the naked trees outside and whipped the snow past the window.
"How's she say warm in the snow like that, Dedushka?" Adrian asked, eyes wide with fear and curiosity.
SMILE
Jennine Smiles was my granddaughter. Three days after she was born, I held her mother as she cried. A week after she was born, I packed up her little onesies and dismantled the crib in her room.
FORGETTING
Her mind was running loose these days.
“Sarah? Is that you?”
“No, grandma, it’s Rachel. You need to take your medice now.”
“I don’t know a Rachel. Come here, Sarah. Did you ever tell that boy Ronnie about what you heard at the park yesterday?”
“Grandma, it’s Rachel–and Ronnie’s my dad. They’re grown up and married now, remember?”
Her mind was running loose these days.
"Sarah? Is that you?"
"No, grandma, it's Rachel. You need to take your medice now."
"I don't know a Rachel. Come here, Sarah. Did you ever tell that boy Ronnie about what you heard at the park yesterday?"
"Grandma, it's Rachel--and Ronnie's my dad. They're grown up and married now, remember?"
BACKPACK
He'll grow up with one of those Thomas the Tank Engine backpacks he's always wanted. He'll grow up with a little red baseball cap and new, white sneakers instead of the used sketchers with a hole wearing out near the big toe. He'd finally go to the Play&Learn Art Camp with that funny blue logo of a little boy. That's what I'd do for Mikey. That's what I'd do for him if I could make more than $7.62 an hour at McDonald's. Or let my mom know that it wasn't just a scum bag I slept with that night. If I could let her know that this kid's not just an accident to me, my Mikey. "Momma," he calls me. And I just want that Art Camp, and maybe even the Thomas the Tank Engine backpack.
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