notice.
Sunday night
I looked out the window,
but the rain
drowned out
the stars.
My angel
was nowhere
in sight.
I curled up
with my oxygen tank
and tried
to
keep
on
b r e a t h i n g.
miles apart
The days passed
slowly
and
painfully.
With each day
the distance
between me
and Claire
grew
by miles.
It was like…
Monday in
San Diego
Tuesday in
Phoenix
Wednesday in
Baton Rouge
Thursday in
Atlanta
Friday in
Orlando
Man, it was lonely
at Disney World
all
by
myself.
I hate bowling
On Friday, while I was in Orlando,
sitting alone at lunch,
reading a book,
Claire sat with the popular kids.
But that’s not the worst of it.
She sat with the popular kids,
wearing
a bowling shirt.
byob
Saturday morning
Dad took a drink
from a glass
in the fridge.
“This milk tastes funny,” he said.
I turned and looked,
to see which glass
he was holding.
“That’s breast milk, Dad.”
“Why isn’t it in a bottle?” he asked.
Because
obviously,
her breasts
are much larger
than her brain.
brain-radio
I missed Blaze
like a bee
trapped indoors
misses flowers.
He was swamped
at work because
two people
were out sick.
Saturday afternoon
I drove across town
to bring him
lunch.
A brown bag
filled with
a turkey sandwich,
an apple,
and chocolate chip cookies
made with a pinch of love
and a dash of tenderness
thrown in
especially by me.
Victoria
tried to convince me
to make oatmeal and raisin
because they’re
my dad’s favorite.
I wanted to say,
Make some yourself,
you slacker.
Instead I said,
“Chocolate beats raisins all the way.”
When I got to the shop,
I saw him there,
behind the window,
behind the counter,
behind his beautiful smile,
talking with two girls.
I walked in and said,
“Blaze?”
with fire in my voice
from the flames
in my heart.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said.
The girls stared
as I walked over,
leaned in,
and gave him a
nice, long
kiss
right in front of them.
“I brought you lunch.
You hungry?”
He nodded
and licked
his kissable
lips.
The girls
got the hint
and tiptoed past me,
as if any loud,
sudden
movement
would send me
reeling.
Another guy
then Blaze waved at me
to follow him.
As we walked,
I felt them around me.
Elvis, Fleetwood Mac,
Van Morrison,
AC/DC, the Eagles,
the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
If music is
the story
of our lives,
what song
did they
sing
for me?
The two songs
that popped into
my head first were
“Burning Love” and
“Love Will Keep Us Alive.”
Then I remembered
that soon
we’d be leaving
for California.
“Highway to Hell”
started playing
loud and clear
inside
my
brain.
the cookie monster
He devoured the lunch,
then he devoured
my neck,
my ears,
my lips,
licking,
nibbling,
kissing
behind the closed
office
door.
“Those cookies were so good,” he whispered.
And the way he looked at me
with love
and lust
and longing…
I told him with a smile,
“I don’t think I’m making cookies for you anymore.”
autumn perfection
Outside,
the air was cool
and crisp,
the way you want your sheets
when it’s blistering
hot.
We walked to the park
and ran through the leaves,
picking them up
and throwing them at each other,
as if they were snowballs.
Instead of loud splats,
we got quiet flutters
of crimson and amber.
He pulled me to him,
spun me around,
and we fell
into a bed of foliage
fit for a king.
I wanted to freeze
the moment
in my mind
forever,
because there’s nothing better
than flutters
of the heart.
lucky number seven
When he held me close,
out of breath,
leaves stuck to our jackets,
I whispered,
“I’m going to California in two days.”
He whispered back,
“And in seven days, you’ll be back home again.
With me.
And maybe being apart will make you want me like I
want you.”
I laughed because he’s
such a guy
and you can’t blame him
for trying.
“Yes,” I told him.
“In seven days I’ll be home again.”
“So count to seven instead of two,” he said.
“Seven’s better anyway.”
And then he proceeded to give me
seven
amazing
kisses
just to
prove it.
they should be admitted
As I drove back home,
I thought about
driving in our old Isuzu Trooper
all that way
with the three of them.
Later, I asked Dad
if he thought it was
just a little crazy
to take an almost newborn
on a long car trip.
“Why? She’ll sleep most of the way.
We’ll stop every few h
ours so Vic can nurse her.
With stops, we figure it’ll be a twelve-hour trip.
It’ll be fine.
Her parents really want to see their granddaughter.”
“Right.
So why do I have to go?”
“They want to see you too, Ali.”
The whole thing
wasn’t just a little crazy.
It was absolutely
insane.
absence makes the heart more desperate
Sunday morning
I got dressed
and went to church.
On the way there,
I prayed for a lot of things.
I prayed I could talk to Claire.
I prayed she’d listen.
I prayed we’d be rushing to say “Sorry” first.
I prayed the distance between us
would disappear as soon as we hugged,
because we really are
best friends forever.
I prayed
and I prayed
and I prayed.
But when I got there,
Claire was nowhere
to be found.
making up is hard to do
And so
there was nothing to do
but go to her house
after church
and get her to talk to me
so we could end
this ridiculous fight,
or whatever it was
between us.
But on the way I realized
if she wanted to see me,
to talk to me,
she’d have been at church
like I was.
I mean,
that’s been our thing—
to go there
together.
Wouldn’t she
have made some kind
of effort,
if making up
was important
to her?
I drove
slower
and slower,
trying to decide
if I should go
or not.
Confused.
Then Dad called.
He asked me to stop at the store
and get snacks
and other necessities
for the road trip.
That’s all it took
to help me make up my mind.
If she wanted to see me,
she knew where to find me.
At least until the next day,
when I’d be
on the road
to nowhere fast.
take the kitchen sink over me
I discovered
when you’re going
on a trip
with a baby,
the whole
flippin’ house
has to come along too.
But then I realized
if we just kept
packing it in,
maybe
there wouldn’t be
any room left
for
me!
better pack the Goo Goo Dolls CD
There
was
room.
Right
next
to
the
car
seat.
good-bye, my Blazing Boy
Sunday night
Blaze came over
after work
to see me
before we left
bright and early
Monday morning.
As we walked
down the sidewalk,
bundled up,
arm in arm,
I told him
about Claire
and asked him
to check in with her
for me.
He told me
I was worrying too much
and I was probably
making more out of it
than I needed to.
He stopped walking,
turned,
and kissed me.
Goose bumps
rose
up
and
down
my body.
“I’m gonna miss you so much,” he whispered
as he nuzzled my neck.
I looked up at the moon,
a silvery slice hanging there
like a shiny ornament
on a Christmas tree.
“Me too,” I whispered back.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Who knows,” he said,
curling my hair with his finger,
“maybe you’ll have fun.
Vic seems pretty nice.”
It was so funny,
I couldn’t help but
tilt my head back
and laugh out loud.
“You are crazy,” he said,
pulling me to him
and kissing me
again.
Crazy in love
was all.
pacifier is my new middle name
We left
before the sun
even peeked
its head out
from underneath
the covers.
I wished
I could have stayed
in my bed,
peaceful and warm.
After we dropped Cobain off
at the kennel,
we drank coffee
and ate doughnuts.
Then I tried to go
back to sleep.
It became obvious
fairly quickly
the baby
was
NOT
going to sleep
most of the way.
I put my earbuds in
and cranked the tunes.
A couple of times
Victoria asked me
to try to do something
to get Ivy
to stop crying.
Reluctantly,
I gave her my pinky
to suck on.
But when my arm
got tired
and I moved it away,
she started crying
again.
Victoria and Dad
looked at me
like I was supposed to keep
my pinky
in her mouth
forever.
I turned the music up,
rested my head against the window,
and pretended to sleep
like a baby should
and a bratty teenager
does.
two words: Holiday Inn
Imagine
a matchbox
with a broken match
dividing it up
into tiny rooms,
and you have
a pretty good picture
of their house.
After kisses and hugs
that smelled like garlic and wine,
Victoria’s mom, Linda, said,
“Let me show you to your room.”
Room. Singular.
One room
for two adults,
one baby,
and a
cussing-under-her-breath
teenager.
“You don’t mind the floor, do you, Ali?” Victoria asked me.
c
Like I had a choice.
A sleeping bag
magically appeared
from the pile of stuff
we had brought.
They knew.
They could have made
reservations somewhere,
and they chose
not to.
That’s when I was thinking,
who are these people
and what the hell
am I doing with them?
keep it coming
When the baby wasn’t crying,
Dad was snoring.
I took my sleeping bag
and moved to the couch.
Around 5 a.m.
I discovered
Ted and Linda
are the type of people
who enjoy
greeting the sun
with a cup of coffee.
So much
for sleeping in
over break.
As I sat up
and considered
hitchhiking home,
Linda asked me
if I liked cream or sugar
with my coffee.
“Just cream,” I said.
And then a vision
popped into my brain
of her finding a glass
in the fridge
and pouring it into
my cup.
I couldn’t help it.
I jumped up to check.
She held a carton of cream
and poured some
into my big,
steaming mug.
It was probably
one of the best
cups of coffee
I’d ever had.
I decided if she’d just
keep the coffee coming,
maybe,
just maybe,