The You I've Never Known

In fact, he was a pretty cool drunk.

Sobriety made him lose his sense of humor. Or maybe it made me lose mine. I always feel stressed when I’m around him. Of course, my stepmom’s most of the problem.





I’ve Never Met Her


Then again, I’ve never

met Syrah’s dad, either,

just her mom, and I’ve

only bumped into her

a few times. We tend to

hang out when and where

our keepers aren’t around.

“What’s wrong with your

stepmom?” She’s got me

curious now. “I mean, if

you don’t mind telling us.”

Syrah shrugs. She and Dad have two kids—twins, and she’s always fussing about the boys’ clothes and hair, and don’t forget those teeth! She’s a freaking tyrant, and she thinks she can boss me around, too. Just, nope.

Pretty sure that’s what moms, step or the regular kind, are supposed to do, observes Monica. My mom is the bossiest person ever.

The only difference is she does her bossing in Spanish.





I’ve Met Monica’s Mom


I’ve met her entire immediate family, in fact. Dad. Two big brothers, one little sister, good Catholics all. Well, Monica is probably the exception.

She says she’s a Catholic in constant need of confession.

What about your mom, Air? asks Syrah. Is she the overbearing type?

The question hits square

in the diaphragm. Monica

shoots me a sympathetic look.

She knows about my mother, but I’ve never talked to Syrah about her. It’s more than a sore subject. It’s a gaping wound, barely scabbed over by time.

“For all I know, my mother’s dead. She hit the highway when I was two, and we

haven’t heard one word

from the bitch since.”

Wow. That’s shitty. Guess even a drunk mom is better than none.

“Not necessarily.” My voice is razor-edged. “Speaking of drunk, I vote we get that way.”

I don’t want to talk about her anymore, so I head in to fix more screwdrivers.

Syrah stays put, but Monica stands. I’ll help. She follows me inside. Hey. You okay?

My hands shake as I pour

vodka. “Sure. Fine. Or I will be soon.” I lift my drink, toasting my sudden rotten mood.

Monica comes closer, takes the glass away, and places it on the counter. It’s okay to be angry, novia.

The back of her hand

is a silk brushstroke

against my cheek,

so soft it invites tears.

The implication

makes me sway. But I can’t go there. Not now. Not yet.





Wait, Wrong


I don’t dare

go there

ever.

Yes, I want

to fall hard

for someone,

experience love and maybe

even lust.

However,

capital H, it can’t be

with a girl.

That’s not

who I am.

Mustn’t be

what I am.

Not only

because of Dad, who’d happily

kick the crap

out of me after calling me every name in his antigay slur book.

Beyond the universal homo fag dyke butch muff diver carpet muncher etc.

would come words he reserves for my lesbian mother and/or her girlfriend: home wrecker cheater liar whore These things

are contrary

to everything

I know about me.

Though I have to admit that knowledge is elementary.

Who am I,

really?





Logic Suggests


I take a step back. Instinct insists I hold my ground.

It feels good to be this close to someone I care about.

And I do care

about Monica.

“It’s stupid to be mad at someone who means

nothing. Now let’s go back outside before SEER-uh decides to come looking.”

Monica takes two glasses.

I carry mine, plus the vodka bottle, now registering two-thirds empty. “Remind me to stash this somewhere once we finish it off, okay?”

Like where? Under your bed?

“Ha-ha. Good question, actually. Let me think about it.” Where indeed?

If Dad finds it, I’m toast, not to be confused with toasted, which is what I’m rapidly becoming.





As We Start to Circle


To the far side of the house,

an engine in dire need

of a muffler comes coughing

and sputtering up the road,

working so hard there’s zero

doubt it’s going way too

fast at night where deer and

opossums and the occasional

bear often wander. The vehicle—

an old Chevy pickup that happens

to belong to Garrett Cole—slows

and the passenger window lowers.

The head that pops out is attached

to Keith Connelly. Hey, girls!

Is that vodka? Wanna party?

Garrett and Keith are world-class

third-string pretend-to-be jocks.

“Not with you!” I yell in their direction.

Now Garrett shouts his two cents.

Stupid lezbos. Bet what I got right here in my pants could cure you.

“Maybe if you could actually

get it up!” I call cheerfully. “I mean, for anyone besides each other.”

Yeah! adds Monica. Takes a queer to know one. She and I both find the exchange immensely funny.

The guys, however, don’t seem

to agree. Garrett punches the gas

pedal, kicking up a huge fog of dust behind the farting exhaust pipe.

“Hope they forgot to roll up

the windows. What a couple

of dweebs.” Giggling like complete dweebs ourselves, we continue

around the house, where Syrah

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