Tilt (73 page)

puffing steam. It reminds me of
Alice’s Adventures

in Wonderland
, with Mikayla as Alice

and Mom as the March Hare. I stifle

a snort as Mom makes the introductions.

First Impressions

Conspicuously Absent

Is Dad who, Mom explains,

got hung up in a meeting,

but should be home any time.

When he arrives, he will, no

doubt, be subjected to a similar

inquisition to the one I’m under-

going now. I try to answer each

question the way Mom wants me to.

Mr. Carlisle:
How do you feel

about this situation, Shane?

I don’t think he wants me to say

I’m sorry his daughter got knocked

up, so I go for, “I think it’s gre—”

But wait. It’s not great. “Uh, good.”

Not what he was looking for.

I mean, about having a baby sister?

Mom looks at me with such

expectancy that what can I say

but, “Awesome, I guess. I mean,

it’s been a while since I had one.”

Okay, that wasn’t right, either.

But what do they want from

me? To hear that I’m not done

grieving the sister I lost?

Mrs. Carlisle says,
Babies are a lot

of work. Your mom will need help.

This one’s easy. “I don’t mind

helping. I helped with Shelby,

so I’m okay with changing diapers.

Mom has to do the late-night feedings,

though.” I remember them well.

“Look. I want Mom to be happy,

and if a baby will do that, fabulous.

Anyway, I love little kids. It’s all good.”

I must have done okay, because

they let me go, just about the time

Dad comes bopping in. Gaga and I

retreat to our cat-hair-covered sanctum.

I Turn On My Music

To swallow their hum, reach under

my bed for the bottles that will drown

the questions jumbled inside my head.

I pop some anonymous pill—the pharm

dealers at school aren’t always so

savvy. I asked for antidepressants,

have collected them for a couple

of weeks. Sort of fun going for a ride

without knowing exactly where

you’ll end up. So I pop another.

Wash it down with big swigs

of Jägermeister. Goddamn it.

I should feel all warm and fuzzy.

Instead, I just want to cry. Can’t.

What if they hear me? They might

think I’ve gone all schizo. Change

their minds about giving Mom

the baby, who does not need

a crazy-ass big brother. I grab

the bottles, head for the travel

trailer. “You stay here, Gaga.”

She doesn’t need to see me cry,

either. It’s freezing inside, so I turn

on the heater. And while I wait

for it to get warm, I down

three or four pills. Maybe more.

Jäger and Downers

Make me feel great. Make me feel

like shit. Make me go ahead and cry.

I spiral down into a whirlpool of tears.

And I like how it feels and I hate how

it feels and right now I really just want

to keep going down and never come up     for air.

I think this must be limbo. Too dark

to see and too heavy to move even

though it’s cold and you want to get

warm but really what difference does

it make because you’re going to be here

forever where it’s hard to breathe     the air.

And I’m sort of scared and sort of happy

because I think pretty soon I won’t care

anymore but before that happens I need

to call someone. Alex. Yes, Alex, because

I love him. Speed dial number one. Good.

My eyes are blurry. Something about     this air.

“Hey, ba. . .” No, not baby. “Hey, you,

I luhv ya. Jush wanna say that ’fore I shay

goo bye.” And he’s yelling something

but I can’t make it out because I’m falling.

And I like how it feels falling toward     death.

Alex

I’m Yelling

No! You can’t leave me.

Not now. Not ever. Not

like this. Oh my God.

Any God. Tell me what to do.

I

hear him say he’s falling,

and there is no way for me

to catch him. I call his house.

No answer. Come on.

Can’t

you hear the phone? You

must be home. Finally,

his dad picks up. “Hurry.

It’s Shane. You’re going to

lose

him.” And suddenly I know,

“He’s in the travel trailer.

Please. You have to hurry.”

The phone drops. He’s gone for

him

and I get dressed. Slowly.

Go to my car. Slowly. Drive

to his house under the limit.

Afraid of what I’ll find.

Harley

Afraid, Angry, Ashamed

Violated. Altered. Changed

forever and I didn’t even get

the chance to say okay. I might

have, but Lucas never bothered

to ask. Instead, he stole it from me.

It’s supposed to be a memorable

experience. One you don’t enjoy

lightly. He didn’t let me enjoy it at all.

In fact, I barely remember anything

about it. Alcohol blackout, they call it.

Only it wasn’t quite black enough

to erase the entire memory. Weight.

There was his weight pushing down

on me. Stabbing. I felt him stab inside

of me. Breathing. Booze and weed

and onion-sweat stink. His hair,

like a spider creeping over my face.

The horrible shudder that meant