Chapter 9 – Shock the Virgin
He opened the door on baited
Breath as if Mirabel waited but
Of course she did not.
Did he long for her or
Fear her? I could not figure them out.
In their world, the blow is
Desired; not in mine. I am determined
Not just to resist
But to understand.
The rooms embraced us into its
Darkness, blandness. Silence. I should be
Exhausted, yet I new
If I closed my eyes she would appear
No stranger but
A part of me, both future
Avatar and past life
Alter. Her perfume
Teased us with its sexy cloud
As if from somewhere she was
Watching. Teasing. Listening. Laughing.
“I’m terminal,” yawned Verne.
Now there’s an odd expression.
“I could sleep.” I scanned the two
Bedrooms, yoked by unlockable
Double doors.
At least my bathroom
Had a lock.
Was it rude to remind him
He was supposed to have rented
A hotel room?
But if I sought politeness
He did not.
“Sorry there’s no telly,”
He casually insulted me.
Ignoring the fact I have a phone.
He lifted a hand – where would
It drop? I watched with
Frozen fascination as he dumped it heavily
On my shoulder.
Stumbled words –
“This has been a horrid homecoming
Holiday for you.”
Homecoming? No more a
Homecoming than a holiday.
Luckily, I’d never considered this mission
A vacation. “No worries,”
I tossed off lightly,
“I’ve got plenty for my end-of break-essay.”
His hand tightened painfully.
I tried to shake him off but he clenched harder.
“You can’t write this!”
I am NEVER ready for this reaction
Though God knows I should be –
Parents and school seem equally aghast
By my take on things
Refusing to grant me
The power to call them out –
That I was born with. It’s my
Superpower – NEVER
Reject a superpower.
Took both hands to de-clench
His grip. This would
Leave a mark.
I’d no wish to rile him but
How could he silence me?
“It’s all grist,” I quoted, lightly,
“You know, sweet mystery of life.”
Literally he spat with rage.
“That’s so American!”
(His deadliest insult.)
“Maundering on about all the details
Of your tiny lives, as if
Gossip is the better part of
Being!”
I backed away, trying to control my face.
They hate it if they think you’re laughing.
“It’s a mystery to be solved,”
I reassured, “Use all
The tools we’ve got:
Hypothesis, antithesis and
Synthesis. Occam’s
Razor. Refine
Possibility into
Probability.”
He snorted. “This is what comes
“Of not teaching Classics!
Confession substitutes for mastery!”
In my short experience
Those who try to “master” Truth
Will never understand it;
Won’t get that ultimate reward –
Uncovering the deepest questions –
Invisible to us now.
Playing politician by
Managing me, or
Controlling truth won’t locate Mirabel.
I threw him a bone. It worked –
It usually had before.
“Poetry’s my specialty,”
I taxed him.
People back away.
He seemed relieved.
“You mean like – metaphors?
An allegory?”
This man wouldn’t know a poem
If it gobsmacked him.
Poor Mirabel!
Of course she had to leave!
He cleared it up in
Just that second; guaranteeing me
Needed rest.
“Good night,” He told me as he closed the door.
Manners abound with
Strange expressions: this night
Was anything but good.
I chewed my lip.
It’s a bad habit of mine. Let’s hope
He doesn’t sleepwalk.
Mother wants me to unpack first –
No hope of that – these
Drawers and closets were jammed
With gaudy accoutrement
Complete with price tags.
Because what’s the good of
Acquisition sans
Provenance?
My clothes would have to stay
Jumbled together in their
Carpetbag.
I should really film all this –
Make a video –
But where to share it?
And that’s the trouble with
My school – they’re never interested in
What excites me. And what
Excites me? Just the things
I cannot know. I’ll always be
In the process of
Finding out.
Behind the locked bathroom door
I soaked myself in
Dead sea salt. Washed
My hair in watermelon mint &
Rubbed myself with Mirabel’s
Mango chutney cream – never approximating
Her clingy floral scent.
Pulling on my jammies I
Welcomed this new self of mine –
Solving grownup disasters by
Avoiding the reasoning
That caused them in the first place.
There was a knock at my bedroom door –
I said nothing but it opened slightly
Verne’s face poked in.
“Ok if I sleep in here? I just
Can’t be alone tonight.”
“No,” I told him firmly. “I wouldn’t sleep
A wink.” The nerve of him!
“Afraid of rape? You wouldn’t be
The first fourteen year old I’ve had.”
I concealed my shock.
“You’re not having this one. Leave.”
“You’re ignorant of sex. It’s
Life’s mightiest comfort.”
“No thanks. Are you leaving or am I?”
“Oh, all right.”
He sighed.
“Can I leave this door open?
Just until I fall asleep?”
Was he a rapist or a baby?
Why did I feel this was some
Miserable recap of his many nights
With Mirabel?
“I have some pills to knock you out.” I
Double-dosed him with Benedryl.
Closed the door and
Disappointed myself by falling
Asleep before I could sort my
Jumbled thoughts.
Alysse Aallyn 
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