She took me out,
for Valentine's day.
She woke me up,
she said she had
a surprise for me;
would I like to go to breakfast?
I wasn't hungry,
but we went out.
We had a drive.
We made phone-calls.
We left the city, and I breathed again
for the first time since I came home from Greenville,
I breathed the air that welcomed my use of it,
the air that doesn't wretch me, hurt me;
air that doesn't hate my lungs.
She smoked.
I close my eyes.
That smell
is my smell
and she should stop, should not
but I can't voice it
because there's our music, on the radio,
and her voice is humming our song.
We come to Milwaukee,
and my heart is fluttering
for our adventure
that she's with me.
We come to the Museum.
There's an exhibit on Pirates.
We go.
We walk.
We walk.
We laugh.
I'm frightened. She drags me, pulls me, pats me.
It's okay. Come see this.
I go,
I smile,
we eat the food we smuggled in;
I cling to her arm.
We leave,
one fake doubloon heavier;
the only one that had a crescent moon along it's edge.
I press it against my face.
Safe. Happy.
Hungry? She inquires.
I nod.
She takes me.
Low-lights. New food. Smiling.
Rose bar across the street, decorated in the colors of the Templeton family.
Don't care, I realize with surprise;
safe here.
I eat the new food, too tired to speak
I smile and smile and smile
until even my eyes are smiling
until she smiles back, and takes my hand
and reminds our waitress not to bring lemons.
Mine.
Mine.
I finger my coin, and look up:
another young couple.
A college boy, a college girl
bearded, too thin;
brown-haired, blond,
pale, vaguely orange.
I smile as soon as I see them.
She's smiling, too
and I notice that her smile's like Regina's, from Mean Girls
and that her hand is pointing
under the table, though I can see it,
at me.
Me, seated against the wall, with no one behind me.
She's not looking at Katie at all.
She jerks her head towards me in what I suppose is meant to be a subtle motion,
and the boy turns, equally subtle, to look at me.
They look at each other and laugh, quietly, to each other.
I excuse myself.
I can't keep my eyes up as I get to the bathroom, as I hurdle myself inside to check.
Was my sweater crooked?
Is there something wrong with my hair, maybe.
My makeup's worn off, is that it?
No.
I look mostly okay, a little ragged from walking, nothing too askew.
I must just be ugly, I decide with a sinking heart,
and am sad for Katie.
Wanted to be beautiful today.
I come back, smiling, sneaking glances at the boy-girl couple, the one who laughs
and they laugh
and they look
every, oh, five minutes or so.
I can't look up.
I can't smile.
I sink down into myself and let my hair fall over my face.
Ugly.
Katie notices.
Payton. Why are you doing that?
Doing what?
That. Hiding like that.
I eye them, then Katie, then them again.
Payton, you can't let every jerk off the street get you down. There's nothing wrong with you, I promise. You look beautiful until you stop smiling--there, that's better.
High school isn't ever going to leave me, is it?
We leave. There are leftovers. I bolus.
We drive to my Parent's house, promised to stop by
Taylor's Seizing.
Run. Run. Too fast; I fall down the stairs and am immediately up again,
running.
My sister.
Hurt?
Whimpering. Mother next to her. Bad. Shit. Badbadstopbad--help her.
We go home.
We go to sleep.
I love Katie.
I love her.
I'm happy with her.
The rest of this world is so fucked up.
