and she didn’t want to—
she wanted to stay in her dreams
where she didn’t know Call or me.
She woke up silent as a kitten,
yawned silent,
and I said, today is the day.
I pushed off the mattress
and there
my book
the wallet
the watch
the pin—
and Serena’s envelope.
The envelope was full of Serena’s going-home money.
I put it in my pocket and said,
thanks, dead Serena.
I stuck the tie pin in my book of life,
stabbed right into a blank page,
and the book with the pin and Daddy Dave’s wallet and watch
and Serena’s money
went in my almost empty purse
and I said, here comes the end of the story, Melli—
here we go.
I said, don’t be scared.
Call says police like doughnuts—
I bet they have doughnuts, hey Melli?
You like doughnuts, Melli?
We walked to the Police Station,
capital P capital S,
and the rain fell like tinsel,
each drip a ray in the dusk,
each splashed into puddles like moons,
made slow-motion flowers of light
that rain from the sea,
still with salt in it,
still smelling of shark,
my boughten flip-flops spangled with droplets
like sequins—
I walked with Melli holding my hand.
We passed the Jimi Hendrix shrine,
him singing about a girl who walks through the clouds
and rides with the wind
and says take anything you want from me—
and when we couldn’t hear him anymore
I talked to Melli about how
maybe an angel could be around any corner,
corners could be tricky like that,
and that’s all I needed to be happy,
was the odd suspicious-looking corner.
I said, we’re almost there.
Don’t worry, it’s my story now.
At the front door of the Police Station
were receptionists behind bulletproof glass,
up high like queens, grumpy queens,
so we went out and walked around looking for other doors
and found where the cop cars were parked—
We found the side door
which needed a swiper card,
so we looked in Daddy Dave’s wallet,
and what do you know—
Melli did the swiping
and we walked into the Police Station
bold as can be,
like we were somebody’s princesses
like we were girls whose faces
would be on a missing children’s poster
like maybe it was supposed to go this way.
A cop, a young one with white hair, said,
what have we got here?
I said, this is Melli Smith.
We’re here to see Dave.
He said, got a few Daves here,
why don’t you come on in and tell me if yours is here.
We followed the young officer with white hair
and he said, what’s your name? and what’s your last name?
and is this your sister?
and then we saw Daddy Dave sitting at his desk,
wearing a tie but no pin, ha ha, and no watch.
I pointed.
Daddy Dave looked up and the other cop said our names,
said, these girls say they are looking for you.
Friends of yours?
Daddy Dave went angel-wing white
and pretended not to know us
without his tie pin and his watch.
Melli’s hand was shaking, so was mine,
and I said, hey Daddy Dave.
The other cop looked at him hard.
Daddy Dave said, do I know you,
and I said, remember Melli Smith?
I bet she belongs to somebody.
I don’t want her to end up with Mr. P.
He stood up and waved his hand for us to come closer.
I said, so the white-haired one couldn’t hear,
if you take her home
and tell Call you did it yourself
without it being my idea,
and you will because of this and other reasons—
and I showed him his wallet.
I said, sorry, I have my brother Jeremy to think about.
He said,
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I whispered, yes you do because of tie pins.
I said, just take Melli home, please.
I said it ever so polite
because you can do that
when you’ve got a watch and a wallet and a tie pin.
The white-haired officer had walked away,
and really fast Daddy Dave took us into another room,
and his face white as paper
and not even any words.
He grabbed my purse and dumped it out,
the notebook and Serena’s money,
and took his wallet and watch
and held my purse upside down and shook it hard,
said, where’s the pin, where’s the pin,
said God’s name over and over
but this time it was a real prayer.
I said, first Melli . . .
that’s all I said.
Where’s the tie pin?
He was praying his mouth off,
but I was silent as Melli.
Daddy Dave said, you’re in trouble, girl,
you have no idea.
He tried to take Melli, but she held on to me
and I held on to her
and he tried to pry her off
and she squealed one perfect high note.
I said, you don’t say much, Melli,
but when you do, it’s good.
I said, I have to know she’s okay
and you have to tell Call it’s your idea
because of my little brother Jeremy.
I said, I’ll still play your game,
I’ll pat your back when you’re done.
Daddy Dave said, if I don’t?
I don’t want to be on Call’s bad side—
I’ve got family, too, you know.
I said, maybe you will get a plan.
I said, hurry, that man with the white hair,
he’s going to wonder how I got your tie pin.
Daddy Dave grabbed my arm hard hard hard
and then he dropped it and went out.
I picked up Serena’s money
and my book and put them back in my purse
and we waited.
Melli touched the bruises welting on my arms
and it felt so good to sit with my hand on hers,
but I wasn’t just sitting,
I was believing,
I breathed beams.
Daddy Dave came back
and slapped a file on the table.
You think they’re going to believe a girl with a record?
He showed me,
and there it was—
shoplifting.
He said, you stole my tie pin.
I said, Serena knew shoes were gonna be the death of me.
&nbs
p; I said, I made Restitution.
He said, don’t you think they’ll know what you are?
Why do you think they’ll believe you?
I could arrest you right now for kidnapping,
he said, his voice all shaking like he was dopesick.
You’re in trouble.
The white-haired officer came to the door, peeked in,
said to Daddy Dave,
what about that phone call couple days ago
from a lady reverend
about two young girls who came to church—
didn’t you say you’d look into that?
The white-haired officer said to Melli,
will you come with me?
To me he said, don’t worry, we’ll take care of her,
she’ll just be in the next room.
I wouldn’t have let her go
if he hadn’t said that
and if his hair wasn’t white
which was just because it was my story now.
I nodded and she went
and I called after, I bet she likes doughnuts.
And then Daddy Dave did a search on me
and there in the Police Station
it was worse than any street.
He did not find the pin, ha ha,
because he was not interested
in reading my book of life,
no he did not care to read,
which was one miracle,
and then another miracle came
after I was dressed
and the white-haired officer poked in his head
and said, we’ve got something on one Melli Smith,
a photo.
I’ve put in a call.
He said to Daddy Dave,
this is going to be interesting,
and he left again.
I found out that when you get a miracle,
you don’t jump up and down,
you don’t scream,
you just relax into a universe that’s got your back.
You just want to live and see what happens.
Daddy Dave said, okay, you got what you wanted,
was it worth it?
we’ll see what Call has to say about this.
I said, the plan is for you to say
it was my idea, Call,
my idea—
you can’t keep little girls like Melli, Call.
Then I’ll give you back your pin.
Daddy Dave said, I already phoned Call.
We’ll see what he thinks about you now.
We’ll see what he does to your brother.
I just lost that pin, you picked it up.
You’re just a little thief,
shoes and tie pins,
just a thief.
I looked at him
with the miracle at my back
and Melli almost saved,
and I said, you told Call I was here?
But the tie pin—
I couldn’t breathe in that room made for searching,
I couldn’t share the air with that man.
I jumped up and grabbed my bag and ran to the door
and Daddy Dave grabbed me
and me fighting back
like I could kill him
never mind God’s top ten,
scratching his hands that grabbed me
scratching so I could feel his skin
peeling into my fingernails
and all his dirty words pouring out of his mouth
and me saying, in vain!
and, angel, angel—
then I was out of the room, swallowing air
but not enough—
I couldn’t get enough air,
and I could see Melli eating a doughnut, white,
and I could see Call coming toward me
Daddy Dave behind me
saying
there he is
and it’s your own fault—
and then
there she was
my angel.
The world was all before them,
where to choose . . .
I thought she would be
all floaty and filmy,
all fragile ghost-bones that break,
all dandelion-seed hair and weightless—
but no.
She was stone, fixed, forever . . .
Her words dripped into my ear—
each drop weighed a star.
She said, Angel,
when God reads your book of life,
boy, are some people ever gonna get it.
I said,
Jeremy,
and she said,
Call’s pocket,
which I did not understand,
which I thought was angel talk.
I said, I don’t want to hurt anymore.
And she said, it will be all pillows.
I was surprised by this angel—
I was surprised by how pale my believing was,
how shrivelled up and shrunk,
how stingy
compared to knowing.
I was surprised by this angel
who said,
see?
see?
And then she was gone.
The angel was gone
and Melli was still holding her white doughnut
and with her big open-mouth smile
and she said, “Angel.”
She said my name out loud,
made it sound like the prettiest word in the English language
made my name sound like a poem to me.
I said, oh Melli, you poet.
Then Melli pointed to Call
and said something to the white-haired officer,
and the officer looked at Call
which pinned Call to the floor,
Call who was not expecting white-haired officers
and Melli telling on him.
I took out the tie pin
and gave it to Daddy Dave
and said, I’m not a thief,
and the white-haired officer looked at Daddy Dave.
So much looking.
So I looked at Call
in his eyes, right in his eyes,
and I was not scared anymore.
I saw something flicking there,
something electric,
a white wire of light, arcing in the eye—
as if his eye remembered seeing something—
then it was gone,
and all I could see in the juicy part of his eyes
were crusted, burnt things—
but I knew my eyes were filled with floating gold,
and you can’t be afraid with eyeballs like that.
Then I looked him right in the shirt pocket
and in the pocket was an envelope
and I slipped the envelope out
and it was the one I sent to Dad
and on it were the letters RTS—
moved—address unknown—
in black marker.
RTS, return to sender,
the prettiest letters in the alphabet.
I said to Call, they moved.
You don’t know where Jeremy is anymore.
And I did my invisible angel thing
with everybody looking at Call and Daddy Dave,
and I walked away
right past the grumpy queens
right out the front door
and I walked
with Serena’s money
and my book of life in my purse
and floating gold in my eyeballs—
I walked to the end of the block
and I walked past the library
and past the phone booth
and into China
and I walked past the Jimi Hendrix shrine,
him singing about the moon and the deep blue sea
and fly on, fly on,
and all the way to the gate of ten thousand happinesses
where I named Widow Paula and it was true—
A van with tinted windows pulled up beside me
drove beside me
while I just kept walking in my boughten flip-flops
and my feet being art as they just kept walking
to they didn’t know where or to who—
and the van followed me to a bookstore
where I just walked right in.
I breathed in the books,
the good smell a million books make,
and the bookstore was my home
and the leather reading chair was my chair
and the bookstore clerk loved to see me read.
He smiled, said, can I help you?
I said, yes, do thy have paradise lost?
and he said, come this way
and I came
and he did.
I bought my own copy of paradise lost
with Serena’s money and said, good job, dead Serena,
and I sat in my chair by my window
and turned to the last book of paradise lost
to the very last book, book twelve,
and nobody could stop me.
The clerk circling around the store
always ending up at my chair
watching me read book twelve
and the van outside circling around the block
and me reading where Adam and Eve get told a story
in which they were the beginning of stories,
and the world was all before them—
All the world. It said that.
It said in book twelve
that all the world was before them
and they could choose . . .
Author’s Note