Folio

Folio

Southern Connecticut State University

Arts and Literary Magazine

2010

FOLIO 2010

EditorStephen Paul Johnson

Associate EditorConsulting Editor

Fiction EditorPoetry Editor

Art EditorFaculty Advisor

Assistants

Readers

Peter M. CunninghamJared R. EmerlingMichael DeSantiHeather FrodshamAndrzej DutkaniczJeffrey Mock

Adrienne Gurge, Jared Coffin, Cyndi Hutchinson, Lisa Litrenta

Michael Bozzutto, Katrina Bianchi, and Charles E. Taylor

Judges

FictionJeffrey Voccola

Jeffrey Voccola teaches English and creative writing at Kutztown University in Pennsylvania, where he is a faculty advisor for Shoofly, the

university arts and literature magazine. An alumnus of both SCSU and Emerson College, Mr. Voccola has been published in Cottonwood Magazine, The Beacon Street Review, Central PA Magazine, and others.

PoetryGray Jacobik

Ms. Jacobik has published three volumes of poetry:The Brave Task, The Surface of Last Scattering, and Brave Disguises, and currently teaches at the University of Southern Maine. She is the recipient of the Juniper

Prize, the X. J. Kennedy Poetry Prize, and the AWP Poetry Series Award.

ArtJohn Cavaliere

John Cavaliere owns and operates Lyric Hall Antiques in New Haven, where he specializes in the restoration of gold leaf picture frames and antique furniture. He has done extensive work for Yale University and

the Greater New Haven community. He has a BA in Fine Art from Connecticut College in New London.

Awards

Fiction

First PlaceSecond Place

Honorable Mention

Erin Jones, “The Salesman”Amanda Gamache, “Naked In the Snow”Jamie Conway, “Mania”

Poetry

First Place

Second PlaceHonorable Mention

Michael Bozzuto, “October 19th, 2009”Jared Coffin, “Discernment”Luisa Caycedo-Kimura, “Like Salome”

ArtFirst Place

Second PlaceHonorable Mention

Benjamin Quesnel, “DJ”Alison Walsh, “Mama”Neil Pascarella, “Reflections”

ContentsFiction

Amanda Gamache FaceSludge NakedintheSnowErin Jones TheSalesmanJasmine Wilborne MarlieGalen Knox NothingTerriblyNew CakeBoxJamie Conway ManiaMichael Bonaldo MemorialDay

873

14

24

5979

65

88Poetry

Michael Bozzuto IfEveryLoveBeginsinthe Desert... October19,2009Scott Spaziani FinalSalute ForgottenLuisa Caycedo-Kimura Crematorium LikeSalomeJared Coffin LiesMyFatherToldMe Discernment Shadows

10

11

1213

2122

3638

57

Kayla Williams PastedTogetherErin Jones FortyYearsRob Scucci WhatWouldJackKerouac Do?

63

72

85

ArtAdam Komosinski ClamCornCup ClamHuntMugAllison Walsh Mama Rust UntitledLisa Turso UntitledTammy Miller UntitledSean Sullivan SplitDecisions Self-PortraitBecky Schaffrick Life&DeathJessica Halliday AliceNeil Pascarella ReflectionsHaley Smith RollingPetalsAmber Lewis UntitledBenjamin Quesnel DJ Lollipop

4142

434445

46

47

4849

50

51

52

53

54

5556

Folio 2010

�

Amanda GamacheFace Sludge

I had this zit on my face. It was the kind everyone gets once in a while. The kind that bulges gently and pink, up from those big gaping pores that stretch from the skin of your nose to the skin of your cheeks. I popped it. Dermatolo-gists as well as beauty magazines tell you not to. They tell you it takes longer to heal when you press two fingers together, pink bulge reddening underneath, and push and grit your teeth until there’s that explosion of solid infection, spi-raling in its own right, followed by white then yellowish clear, thick liquid. It’s disgusting, and of course it always bleeds after that, but would you rather stare at a face with a bump of nearly bursting face sludge—that’s what I always called the debris found in dirty pores—or a small scab that could be from a scratch or a mosquito bite or from the cat or the dog? I’d rather look at the scab. I like the mystery it brings with it. I was staring at it in the mirror, the scab that is, and decided it needed to be pulled off. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was the radio that got to me. Earli-er I had been listening to the announcers. Are they even called announcers? The DJ’s? I don’t know. I’m not some big radio fanatic. Well I was listening to them talk about scabs, about how they were nature’s candy. It was all men calling in, explaining how great scabs were. Grown men. I was nauseated listening to them regale the listeners with great scab sizes—one was pulled off hole at four inches long and half an inch wide—and scab tastes. Apparently they taste like bacon, nature’s bacon. I didn’t eat my scab. I just pulled it off because it looked too black, didn’t blend well enough with my make up and stuff. I figured a lighter one would show up, be less noticeable. When I pulled it off once again there was some bleeding. I pulled a tis-sue out of the box and pressed it to my cheek, bored. That’s what staring in the mirror is most of the time, boring and self-deprecating. But when I pulled the tissue away, I noticed that the cut was in the shape of an “S”. A perfect “S” with all the curves, nothing that looked fake or cut or something, it was like the Su-perman “S”. That was my first thought, maybe it’s a sign like Superman, a good

Folio 2010

9

thing,ablessing.Thentherealmekickedthatthoughtinthejunkandlaughedasitwincedawaycradlingitsbathingsuitparts,eyeswideandcrying.Ithadtomeansomethinggrim.ButallIcouldthinkofwassillyorstupidorserious.Serious.Thatwassomething.Mythroatachedalittle. Isatinmyroomcontemplatingthis,serious.Ibeganpoppingblackheadsonmyshoulders.Iliketopopthingstruthfully.Iliketopickatthings,andI’mreallyskinchallenged,azit-zilla,butit’sallunderthesurface,likehellissupposedtobeunderthesurfaceoftheearth. ThenIstartedpickingatmylips.Ilikedoingthat.Ilikethefeelofthedeadskinslowlytearingawayfromthenewer,pinker,softerskinunder-neath.It’sbetterthansexmostofthetime. The“S”couldhavestoodforskin,orseriousskin.Butmyskinwasn’treallyserious.Itdidn’thavethoselinesonthebroworaroundthemouththatgavemeaserious,smartkindoflook.Itwasn’tgreen—ohwickedwitch!—orpurpleoranything.Itwasn’tsilly. Ithinkitreallywasjuststupid.The“S”hadtodefinitelystandforstupid.Imean,stupidisdumbisidioticisloggerheadedisdoltish.That’smyfavoriteword,dolt!Butreallymyskinisstupid.Imeanitlooksalrightfromafewfeetaway.ItlooksclearandaswhiteasanorthernEuropeande-scendantcanlook.Butthenifyougetafootawayyoucanseethebigporesandthegreasyundertone.Noonereallylooksanycloser.Skinisstupid.It’sstupidtolookalrightandthenhaveallthefacesludgeboilingunderneath. Igotupandwentbacktothemirrorandstaredatthe“S”.Itreallywasperfect.Iopenedmymouth,decidingtolookatmyteeth.Icheckthemforstains,becauseyouknowcoffeeleavesstains—notthatIdrinkcoffee—butteadoestoo,andIdrinktea.That’swhenIcaughtsightofmythroat.It’dbeensore,butIalwaysignoredit.Iusuallyignoredsmallpains,buttherewasmythroat,mytonsils,whiteandspotted.Theylookedlikemoldybread.Itriedtotouchitandgaggedmyself.Ialmostthrewup,moron,dolt!The“S”wasserious.IsuspectedIhadstrep.

Gamache

Folio 2010

10

Michael BozzutoIf Every Love Begins in the Desert, Where Does

Every Love End?

Everyloveendsatthebottomofacoffeecup

thefragmentsofbrokenbeansinapoolofcream

thesugarlongsincegone

iflovebeganinthedesertitcan’tgetanyhotter.

Folio 2010

11

Bozzuto

October 19, 2009Winner of the 2010 Folio Poetry Contest

I

orangeisbothacolorandajuicewhatastrangefeeling

II

today’scoffeeabitbolderthannormaldrymouthanddryday

III

catatonicstarethecomputerscreenglowswhitedoIevenread?

IV

thousandsofmilestextmessagesandpicturesbetweenherandme

V

thecouragetostandwhilemywordsarenotenoughdoesitgetbetter?

Folio 2010

12

R. Scott SpazianiFinal Salute

WepullmyGrandfather’sgunmetalgraycasketoutofthehearse.Iliftmycornerandglancetowardsthefamilyandfriendsgatheredaroundtheplatformthatwilllowerthecasedownintotheearth.Thefuneraldirector,calmandincontrol,directsourmovementwithsubtlehandgestures.

ThreeMarinesstandatattentionwaitingforustopass.

Thegrassisstartingtoturnbrown.It’scoldandtheclouds,samecolorasthecasket,threatenrain.Wemarchacrossthefield.

IstareatthemetalandwonderiftheyoungmanwhofoughttheJapaneseonSaipanandGuadalcanalwouldhavebeenmoreboldhadheknownhewoulddiepainlesslyinahospitalbedEighty-sevenyearsoldandsurroundedbyfamily.

Idoubtitwouldhavemadeadifference.

WhenitfeelslikeIcan’tholdonanylongersIlookforward.TheMarinesstandready,unmoving,unfazedbythedireeventsaroundthem.Theheadofthecasketbeginstopassthem.ThefirstMarineslowlyliftshisarminasalute.

Folio 2010

13

Spaziani

Forgotten

Adriftforeverthehunksofsteel,shatteredremainsoftheprobe,floatslowlycollidingandbouncingawayagainturningandtumblingintheemptyvoidofspace.Adanceamongthestars.

NASAengineersworkedtirelesslytogetVoyagerintospace.Themostadvancedprobesentouttoexploreoursolarsystem.Itsjobcompleted.Radiossilenced.

Designedonlytolasttill2025itwilldiealonefarawayfromitsmotherstar.Themetalsbecomeasteroidsoftheirown.Gainingorbits,fallingbackintotheintricatemachineoftheuniverse,becomingtherawmaterialsofplanetsandstars.

Folio 2010

14

Erin JonesThe Salesman

Winner of the 2010 Folio Fiction Contest Thedoorbellrang,andDavejerkedawake.Hisheadhurtandhismouthtastedlikeamixtureofashandstalebeer.Itwasaboutnoon.Hedraggedhimselfoutofbedtolookoutthewindowtoseewhowasatthefrontdoor.HesawhisfriendAJclimbingbackintohisbeatupstationwagon.Davepulledonsweatpantsandrushedtohisfrontdoor,butAJhadalreadydrivenaway. Whenheopenedthedoorhesawacagesittingonhisfrontstep.Hesteppedoutsidetoseeexactlywhatitwas,butthesunwastoobrightsohehadtoclosehiseyes.Heheardclucking.Heshieldedhiseyes,squintedthemopen,andlookeddownatthecage.Threeredhenshuddledinthecorner.Ontopofthecagewasanote. “Yours.FairandSquare.”ItwasscribbledonthebackofareceiptinAJ’ssloppyhandwriting. Helookedatthechickensforamoment.Theirfeathersgleamedayellowtintinthesun.Everyfewsecondstheytwitchedtheirheadinadif-ferentangle,thenletoutacluck. “Mine?”hesaidaloudafterstudyingthem.Thebaldspotonhisheadwasgettinghotsohewentinside.Davewasamanofshortstatureinhisearly30s.Hetoldpeoplehewas5’8”buthewasreallyabout5’6”.Hehadsadeyebrowsthatsataboveevensadderlightbrowneyes.EversincehestartedbaldingDavedreadedgettingintheshowerandseeingthegrowingamountofhairthatgotcaughtinthedraineachtime. BythetimehehadfinishedgettingdressedhedecidedtobringthechickensbacktoAJ.Hecouldn’tfigureoutwhatthenotemeantorwhyAJhadgivenhimchickens.Hecouldn’tremembermuchaboutthenightbefore.HehadgonetoabarwithAJ,hadafewdrinks,andthatwasallhecouldremember.

Folio 2010

15

Thechickenshadcalmeddownalittlewhenhewentoutsideagain.Twowerecleaningthemselves.Thelittlestonesleptinthecorner,herfeettuckedunderherbody,andherheadburiedinherwing. “C’mongirls,we’regoingforanotherride,”hesaidtothemashebentdowntopickupthecage.Theircluckinggotmorefranticashewalkedtohistruck. Heputthecageinthebedofhistruck.Ashepulledoutofhisdrivewaythehula-girlonthedashboardshookherplastichips.ThetoyhadbeenagiftfromNancy,hisex-wife.Hehadn’ttalkedabouthersincetheyhadgottenadivorcetheyearbefore.InsteadtodealwithitheandAJgotapieceofparticleboard,drewanoutlineofwoman,wrotethenameNancyacrossthechest,andonceinawhileshotapotatogunatitwhiledrinkingBudweisersinthebackofDave’shouse.Buthelikedthehula-girl,soshewastheonlythingofNancy’shekeptaround. DavepulledintoAJ’sdrivewayandknockedonhisdoor.AJan-sweredwithagrinonhisface.Heleanedonthedoorframe,likeheknewDavewouldbepayinghimavisit.Davethoughthelookedlikeacockybastard.AJhadagoodeightinchesonDave,andhewaslanky.Heworeawrinkledpin-stripesuitjacketoveragray,stainedt-shirtandjeans. “Whatthehellarethoseabout?”Davepointedatthebedofthetruck. “They’rebeauties,right?” “Whydidyougivethemtome?” “Hey,hey,”AJshookhishandsdefensively.“Youweretheonethatwantedthem.I’mnottheonetoblame.” “Ineveraskedforthem,”Davesaid. “You’reright.Youwonthem.” “Won?”Davescrunchedhiseyebrowstryingtorememberthenightbefore,buthestillgotnothing. “Wellfuck.Youreallydon’tremember?”AJchuckled.“Youlight-weight.Thisguywasinthebarparkinglotlastnight.Hewassellingthechickensforfivebucksapiece.Igothimtolowerthepricethough.You

Jones

Folio 2010

16

tookonelookatthoseladiesandsaidyouwantedthem,thatyouhadtohavethem.” “Justtakethemback.” “Can’t.Youbeatme.Poker.” ThisjoggedalittlesomethinginDave’smemory.Hecouldremem-berholdingcards,puffingonacigar,buthecouldn’trememberanythingaboutchickens. “Ohshit,”Davesaid,rubbinghisbaldspot.“AndIbeatyou?”AJwasanavidpokerplayer,andDaveknewhisownskillsweremediocreincomparison. “Trustme.Iwasshockedtoo.Youkeptgettingallthesegreathands.Icanguaranteeyou’reneverplayedlikethatbefore.Youdidn’thaveasinglehandIcould’vebeat.SinceyouwereinnoconditiontotakethechickenslastnightIsaidI’ddropthemofftoyouthismorning.” WheneverDaveandAJwentoutDavealwaysendedupdrinkingtoomuch,andhecouldneverrememberifAJdranktoomuchornot.ButthatwasAJ’swayofdealingwiththings,badorgood. Theywerebothvacuumsalesman.AJwasafarbettersalesmanthanDave.AJcouldgointoahousethathadnocarpetsandaperfectlyworkingvacuumcleanerandbeabletosellthehighestandmostexpensivemodelKirbyVacuumshadtooffer. AJtrainedDave,that’showtheybecamefriends.OntheirfirsttriptogetherDavewasamazedattheprecisionlinesAJcouldcreateinacarpet:perfectlystraightwithperfectangles.AndAJhadtheabilitytoconvincealmostanycustomer—mainlyhousewivesandoldwomen—intobuyingvacuumcleanersthatweren’treallyanybetterthantheonestheyalreadyhad.DaveneverhadtheabilitytotalktothecustomerslikeAJcould,hissellingpointwerethetrickshecouldpulloff,likealreadyhavingdustinthevacuum.Hewoulddotensweepsofthecarpetwithhismodelandopenupthebagthatwashalffullwithdust.“Ijustreplacedthisbagthismorning,”hewouldsay. Thecustomeralmostalwayslookedwithwide,believingeyesatthe

Folio 2010

17

dustparticlesinthebag.Thensay“Ohmy.Ican’tlivewithallthatdust.I’lltakeit.” Hisfavoritetrickwasthecigarettetrick.ToshowhowsoftthebristleswereDavewouldrunanunpluggedvacuumoveracigarette.“Ifitisthisgentleonacigarette,”hewouldsayafterthecigarettestayedintact,“imaginehownicelyitwilltreatyourrugs.” ButafterNancylefthimhecouldn’tperformthetrickswithenthu-siasmorsellingpower.Hebrokeoneofthecigarettesduringademonstra-tion,anddraggedtobaccoalloverthewhitecarpet.InsteadofplayingitofflikeAJtaughthimandshowinghowwellthevacuumcleanercanpickupthosepeskylittleparticlesliketobacco,hedugitinevendeeperintothecarpetwiththeheelofhisloafer.“Isthispartofthedemonstration?”thehousewifeaskedhim.Davedidn’tsayanythingandwalkedout. “Toomuchbaggage,”AJtoldhimafterthecigaretteincident.“You’vejustgottoomuchbaggage.Tosellavacuumyouhavetobecom-pletelyfree.Orelsethecustomerwon’tbelieveyouthatthisisreallythegreatestvacuummoneycanbuy.” Daveknewheshouldn’thavebeensurprisedthatAJwouldn’ttakebackthechickens.AllsalesandbetswerefinalwithAJ. “Ireallydon’twantthem,”Davewasgettingmadnow.“Iwasdrunk,itdoesn’tcount.” “Abetisabet,”AJsaid.“C’mon,I’msureyou’lllovethem.”DavecouldtellthatAJwastryingtopitchthesechickenstohim.Tryingtosellhimtheideathatthesechickenswouldbeagoodinvestment.AJwalkedtowardsthetruck.“You’vejustgottogettoknowthem.” “IthinkI’llbefinewithoutthem,”Davesaid. AJhoppedinthebedofDave’struckandcroucheddownnexttothecage.“Ialreadynamedthemforyou,”AJsaid.Hewasonarollnow,consumedwithmakingagood,convincingpitch.“Thetallandskinnyone,thatoneisDorris.It’sanoldladyname,Iknow,butdoesn’tshelooklikeanoldbird.”AJpausedandlaughed.DavewonderedifAJhadintentionallymadethejoke,ormadetheconnectionafterwards.

Jones

Folio 2010

1�

“Plus,shehasthattuftofyellowfeathersonherchest,soitlookslikesheiswearinganoldladypin.Theoneinthemiddle,hernameisCandy,”AJcontinued.“Ofcoursethefatonehasastrippername.Andthelastone,ohthelastone;she’sjustamotherfuckingdoll.InamedherNancy.”Davefelthischesttighten. AJsmiled.“I’mjustjokingman.Iknowbetterthanthat.Idon’tthinkthisgirlcouldhandleapotatotothehead.HernameisFrenchy,becauseshe’saFrenchhen.Getit?” GlancingatFrenchy,Davenoticedshewasshaking.“Istheresome-thingwrongwithher?” “No,she’sprobablystillscaredfromallthetravelingshe’sbeendo-ing.” AJundidthelatchonthecageandreachedhishandsin.Here-tractedthem. “Ohshit.Ithinkyou’reright.” “What’swrongwithher?” “Dunno.”AJnonchalantlyshruggedhisshouldersthenreachedbackintothecageandpickedherup.“Youneverknowwhatyougetwithchickens,though.”HeclimbedoutofthetruckwithFrenchytuckedinhisarmslikeafootball.“They’refinickyandweak.Theygetsickeasily.”AJheldFrenchyclosetohischest.ItwasalmostunnaturaltoDavetoseeAJshowsomesortofcompassion. JustasAJpulledthechickeninalittlecloserathinstreamofyellowliquiddrippedoutofFrenchy’smouthontoAJ’sindexfinger.Heletgoofher. Inanaturalreactionherwingsmadeanattempttoopen,tocush-ionherfall,buttheydidn’topenenough.AsshefellDavedoveouttocatchher,butfelljustshort.Shehittheground,crumpledintoaball,anddidn’tmove. “Whatthehell,”Davesaidwhilestandingupandbrushinghimselfoff.

Folio 2010

19

“Damnthingthrewuponme.”ThetopofAJ’slipsortofsnarledupwards.Davethoughthelookedlikeaferaldog.Hedidn’tunderstandhowAJcouldbesouncompassionatetowardsanotherlivingthing. “Shouldn’twedosomething?”Daveasked. “Definitely.”AJbentdownandgrabbedFrenchybyoneleg.Heheldherupsidedown.Herwingsfellopenandathicksteamofyellowpouredfromhermouth.Agurgleescaped. AJturnedandwalkedinthedirectionofthewoods. “Whatareyoudoing?”DavecalledafterAJ. “Somethingaboutthis.” “Putherdown.She’sstillalive.” DavecouldseethattherewasstilllifeinFrenchy.Herwingsstilltwitched.Shemadefeebleattemptsatclucks.Hisstomachturned.AJgottotheedgeofthewoodsandturnedaround.DavewasprettysurewhatAJwasgoingtodowithher. “Justletherbe,”Davepleadedagain. “That’swhat’swrongwithyou,”AJsaidpointingatDave.“You’reapussy.Whensomethingisheadedinthewrongdirection,getridofit.It’stheeasiestwaytofixit.Takethischickenforexample.”AJswunghishandaroundthechickenlikeamodeltryingtoshowoffaproduct,oramagiciantryingtodeceivetheaudienceintothinkingthatthenextactwillactuallybemagicandnotslightofhand.Likeavacuumsalesmantryingsellthenewestmodel. “Thischicken,yes,isstillalive,”saidAJ.“Butshewon’tbeforlong.Ithinkwebothknowthisbirdisdying.I’mnotavet,soIcan’tfixher.Areyouavet?” “No,but—” AJcuthimoff.“IfIshakeherdoesshetrytogetaway?”HeshookFrenchyupanddown.Herwingsbouncedalittlebutshedidn’tmakeanyattemptstoescape.Yellowcontinuedtodripfromhermouth.DavewantedtoreachoutandtakethechickenawayfromAJ,buthedidn’t.AJwastoogoodatpitching.

Jones

Folio 2010

20

Davestoodthere,lookingatAJ. “Answerme.Isshetryingtogetaway?” “No.”Davelookeddownandkickedatthegrass. “Good,sowe’vecometoanagreement.Thisgirlisnotgoingtobesaved.Sowegetridofit.” Hereallywasagoodsalesman.Davewasstartingtobesoldontheideathatthischickenwasdyinganduseless.Heacceptedthefactthattherewasnothinghe,oranyoneelse,coulddoaboutit.So,whenAJwoundupandthrewFrenchyintothewoodshedidn’treachouttosaveFrenchy. Insteadhewatched.JustlikehadwatchedNancyleave.Davekepthiseyesonthechickenasshespunintheair.Hewatchedherflipoverherself:headoverfeet,talonsoverbeak.Anarchofyellowvomitfollowedher.Shehitthegroundandstartedrollingdownthehilltothebottomofthewoods.Herfeathersgatheredleavesassherolled.OnceshemadeittothebottomofthehillDavelookedforherbuthecouldn’tfindherbecausehefeathersblendedwiththeautumnleaves.

Folio 2010

21

Luisa Caycedo-KimuraCreamatorium

Caycedo-Kimura

Wekissedherandlefthertoburnatthecrematorium,amidstremnantsofthosewhopreceded,tointerminglewiththosewhowouldfollow.

Atthecrematoriumherbodywentupinsmoketointerminglewiththosewhowouldfollowinasmolderingfurnace.

Herbodywentupinsmokeholdingourlove-stainedgoodbyes.Inasmolderingfurnacewehopedwewouldgettherightashes.

Holdingourlove-stainedgoodbyestheyconductedthecremation.Wehopedwewouldgettherightashesinacontraptionofdustandabsurdity.

Theyconductedthecremationamidstremnantsofthosewhopreceded.Inacontraptionofdustandabsurditywekissedherandlefthertoburn.

Folio 2010

22

Luisa Caycedo-KimuraLike Salome

Honorable Mention, 2010 Folio Poetry Contest

TheSpanishonionclothesherselfinamberveilsofcrisprawcrepehidinghertranslucent,multi-layeredbody,strong,savage,vanillawhite.Ajewelbornoftheearth.

Tasteherrawnakedness,bitethefreshnessofherflesh.Aplayfulmistress,she’llbiteyourtonguewithgentlesweetness.

Succumbtoheraswouldaroyalsubject,artistofculinaryrealms.Removeeachlayerofsunsettulleoryellow-redmantilla.

Folio 2010

23

Observehernudity,admirehergirth,cradleherwhiteness.Withanexactingknifeseparateher.She’llyieldwillinglycrescentsandringsofmoonlight.

Placeherinaheatedpan.Overcomebyheatshe’llsizzleherexoticdance,interminglewithwarmestoliveoil,loosedredtomatoes,wildestgarlic.

She’llenticeyouwiththeperfumeofawell-seasonedlover,finallyofferinghersurrenderedbodyonaplate.

Caycedo-Kimura

Folio 2010

24

Jasmine WilborneMarlie

Marlieranthepadofherthumbundertheelasticbandofhisbox-ers.Hesmelledliketheaftershaveherfatherusedtowear.Breathingdeeplyshepushedherbodycloserintothenaturalcreviceofhisbody.Heclutchedhertightandthesmellencapsulatedher.Herheartsurgedwithelation,thoughnostalgiabloomedbeneathit.Acrispbreezefunneledthroughthebuilding’sshatteredwindows.Thefirefedbydiscardedcardboard,cigarettebuttsandswigsofbourbonreachedhighupfromwithinitsmetalcage,andthefirelightflickeredagainsthissmoothbrownthroat.Marlie’skissesfol-lowedafterthem,chasingthearomaofthatspicysmell. “Youbeenoutherelong?”Heasked,hismouthpressedtoherear.Marliegiggledflirtatiously. “Justafewmonths.”Histonguetracedthecurveofherear.Sheshriekedplayfullyandpulledhimcloser. “Howaprettygirllikeyouendupouthere?”Hisvoicewasdeepandcharming.Hiseyeswereamuddybrownandablanketoffrecklessettledonhisnoseandcheeks.Marliewantedtolickthemoff,maybetheytastedlikecinnamon. “Justhadtoleave,”sheforcedout,nestlinghernoseinhiswhitecottont-shirt.Thebuildingwasdecrepitandneglected.Earlier,shehadpeedinthecornerquickly,afraidsomethingmightbiteher.Therewerelongstripsofpaintcurleduplikecradlesonthefloor.Graffitiateupwallspaceanddeeppuddlesofwaterpooledinthepuckeringbowlsofthedam-agedwood. “Youdon’tseemlikethebadtype.”Shedrewherlargeeyesupinmockedoffense. “Whatareyoutryingtosay?”sheprobedwithasmirk. Hechuckled.Herbrainswamandabdomenclenchedinlust.Shespreadherfingerswidebeneathhisjeans.Shecouldfeelthesculptedcutofhiships,chiseledabdomen,andthecuspofpubichair.Hisjawflaredand

Folio 2010

25

hislipspressedontoherforeheadpassionately. “Youdon’tseemlikethebadgirltype…”Hepausedtolookdownatherbrightbrownface.“Morelikedaddy’slittleangel.”Herheartthrobbed.Shedidn’twanttoremember. “Idon’tbelieveinangels,”shesaidasheknelttounbuttonherjeanshorts.One…two.Heroseabrowbutsaidnothing.“It’sstupidtobelieveinsomethingyoucan’tsee.”Sheranherfingersoverthewavesinhishair. “Whataboutguardianangels?”hequestioned,liftinghertanktoptoembellishherstomachwithkisses.No one was guarding my father. “Who?”Asoftsmile.Herheartflutteredwithuncertainty. “Iguess,heaven’sano-go?”He’s cute even though he’s stupid.Thefirecrackled.Thewindhowled.Sheshivered.You know better than that. “Nope,we’vegottolivenow,‘causethere’snothinglater.”Heleadherdowntothefloor.Shekissedhislips,hopingtostaunchhisquestions.Therewasyellinginthebackground,thedeepgrowlofmen’svoicespairedwiththesoundoftirescuttingacrossasphalt. “Thenthisshouldn’tbotheryou.”Heimpliedshimmingherunder-wearoff.Shewrappedherlegaroundhim. Heentered. Sheleftbeforethesunpeekedthroughthehorizonwithripplesoforangesandpinks.Marliemovedquietlyassoftsnoresbubbledfromhislips.Sheshovedherclotheson,pickedupherbackpackandwithgreedyfingerssnatchedupasmallvialofcoke,afewdollarsandabottleofliquor.Shelefthisjacket,tobenice.Whenshewasfarenoughdownthestreetshestopped.Openedherbaganddroppedthecontentsinside.Shecarriedverylittle.Agnarl-headedtoothbrush,askinnysilverofsoapandafewdollarstoretampons.Therewasapairofdirtysocks,undiesandathinsummerdress.Therewasalsothephotographofherfather,Marcus. Thepicturewastakenbyaccident.Itwasoneofthefewweekendsherfatherwasabletospendtimewithher.Hishighambitionsatsuccessoftenpulledhimawayfromhome.Buthewouldmaketimetospendwithher,evenifitwereforafewdays.

Wilborne

Folio 2010

26

Marlierememberedhowherfatherhadgrabbedherintoasidehug.Herhairwasawildmassoffroandblemishesspottedherforehead.Herfingersclawedplayfullyathisbulgingarm.Inthepicturehisshirtsleevesrosejustenoughtoseetheintricatelinesofhistattooedcrucifix.Herfacewascontortedwithannoyance,lipspulledwide.Herbigeyesflaredwithdisgust.Butherfatherhadmanagedtoplanthislipstoherforeheadandsnapthepicture.Sheswallowedhardandtuckedthephotoaway. Marlie’sstomachgrowled.TheneighborhoodaroundherlookedlikeitdependeduponfoodstampsandSection8.Shemadeherwaytothesubway,headingdowntown.I can always find something down there. Shewalkeddownthestreetsluggishly,thelasttendrilsofliquorcloudinghermindandwaveringhersteps.Shewaitedforthenextrailcar. Marliewanderedaroundthesilverandgreymetropolis,alone.Shepickedaroundthetrashcanssearchingforhalfeatenpizza,plasticwrappedsandwiches,anything.Shemovedlikeadogwithoutanowner.Coolbeadsofsweatsettledonhershoulders,withdrawallitupherinsides.Herstomachfoldedinuponitself.Itbeggedwithsharpelectriccramps.Herfingerswenttoherpocketandfondledthesmallvial. I’ll need this later. Cornerstoreshadbegununsheathingtheirmetalstorefrontsandreadyingforbusiness.Carsprowledalongtheroad.I feel sick. Marlieshuffledthroughthesilentcity. Hopeful,sheduckedbehindabakeryshoptotryherluckatsalvagingbakedgoods.Themorningbreezewaftedthearomaofbakingbreadcrackingitsdelicatecrust.Herstomachgrumbled.Withweaklimbsshetoppledoverintothedumpster.Shecrouchedlowinthepit,closedhereyes,ashersightdiminishedintoadizzykaleidoscopeofcolor.Shefeltvomitcrawlupherthroat,butswalloweditdown.ItwaseasyforMarlietobecomecarelessandferal.Hadnothingtolivefor,shethought.Whenthefeelingscameback,sometimesitwasthebitter,fierytendrilsofalcohol.Oftenhertonguesearchedfortheremainingdropsofgraininthesmoothmouthofthebottle.Othertimesitwastheboyssheallowedtoinvadetightcrevicesanddelvehalfmoonsintohersides.

Folio 2010

27

Morefrequentlyshewouldweepinthebackofahookahbar.Tremblingasshestaunchedhernosewithanapkin.Marliewouldweepincessantly;long,slow,slipperysobsforherfather.Sherememberedthecoldmetalbarsdividingthespacebetweenthem.Howhislipswereagreycrackedlineofsuffering.Howhiseyesflickeredrapidlybeneaththetranslu-centfilmofhislids.Andher.Herhandsfeltrawfromthecheaphandsoap.Andthemurkyauraofdeathclungtothecornersoftheroomlikeaspider’sweb.Therewasapartofherthatwantedtoslinghersleeveoverhernoseandmouth.Theotherwantedtoliebesidehimanddietoo. Anirksomeflygrazedhercheekandsheslappeditaway.I don’t feel good.Herinsidesmoaned.Shereachedforthandbeganriflingthroughgarbagebags,famished.Therewereshreddedcardboardboxes,burnedunrecognizablesandwhatlookedlikethemaroonstainofdriedblood.Thehighrisescastdarkshadowsacrossthealleyandpigeonscongestedtheair.Findingaroll,Marliebrusheditoffwithherfingersandbitintoit.Thein-sidewasstillfluffy,theoutsideflakyandbuttery.Shesavoredit.Withshameshedippedlowerbeneaththebin’smeniscus.Thenitwasgone.Defeated,Marlieslumpedagainstthewallasburningtearspriedatthecornersofhereyes.Why’d you have to go? Shetippedherheadbackagainsttherustywallandallowedthetearstoforcetheirwayout. Despiteherfather’sirregularpresence,theywereclose.Oneweek-endherfatherhadgivenheranhourtopackforacampingtrip.Herfather’simpromptucreativespurtsexcitedher.Sherememberedthefeelingofthenight.Howcatharticitwastojusttalk.Everyeveningseemedtobefullofreminiscing,playfulbanterandquestions. “Noteverythinghasmeaning.Whataboutthesand?”Marliesaid,digginghertoesintothecoolearth.Herfatherlaidbesideher,staringupintothecleardarkbluesky.Shewasjustplayingaround,really.Theairsmelledlikefire. “Saysomeguydecidestotakeawayallthesandonearth.Whatwouldpreventtheoceanfromdrowningusall?Whatabouttheminusculecreaturesthatthrivefromthemicroorganisms?Andthelargeonesthatfeed

Wilborne

Folio 2010

2�

offofthem?Considertheevenbiggerfish?Theywouldhavenofood.Saythere’sapopulationofpeoplewhoneededthosefish,whoneededthoseorganisms.”Hepaused,dramatically.“They’ddie.” “Ohmygod.Ididn’twantalecture.”Marlierolledhereyesandshoweredherfather’slegwithahandfulofsand.Hesmiled. “Everythinghasameaningandpurpose.” “SureDad.” “I’mserious.”Hisvoicedippedlow.Abreezeenvelopedherwithaftershave. “Right.”Marliechewedonafingernail.I have that stupid paper to write. God. “Mar,ifwehadnomeaning,wewouldhavenevercometothatrealization.Afishdoesnotknowitiswet.Norbirdsknowtheycanfly.Wewouldbelivinginaworldthatwas.” “Yousaythatallthetime.I’mnotafish.”Sheshotback.I think I left my iPod at home.Herfatherpulledherclose.Sheresistedandyankedhershoulderaway. “Iftheworldhadnomeaning,whydopeopleseektofindit?Howisitthattherearesevendifferentplanetsaroundus,butoursistheonlyonesupportinghumanlife?WhydoIloveyou?”Sheseethedinside.I want to go. “I’mhungry.“Shesaidstandingupandbrushingthesandoffofherlegs.Shebeganwalkingaway.“What’sfordinner?” Startled,Marlieheardvoices.Oh fuck.Shesidleddowndeeperintothebin.Therewasnowheretogo. “WaitJoel;letmethrowthispieceofgarbageaway.”Shufflingfeet.Marliecouldn’thelpbutbreatheloudly.Theywereclose.Shewastiredofpeoplewiththeirquestionsandgawkingfaces. “I’mtiredofthemdroppingthisshitby.I‘aughta-“ “Yeah,yeah,yabigpussy.Yabakecakesforalivin’.Whatareyougoingtodo?”AnItalian-voiced-manchided.Marliewaitedandthensud-denlysomethingsharpstabbedhertemple.Sheforcedbackayelp.

Folio 2010

29

“Ihateyou,youknowthat?”Theothermanchuckledandtheirvoicesgrewfaintuntil,silence.Marlierubbedherforeheadandlookedaroundquizzically.Shegroanedasherfingerstracedtheraisedformofaknot.Shejerkedherbodytotheright,thenleft,untilshespottedit.ItwasascratcheddarkbluecontainerwithLTL burnedontop.Shescoopeditupandwithangrilyandopenedit.That shit hurt.Ametrocard,packofgranolaandafoldedpieceofpapertoppledout.Marlieblinkedhard,herlipsgaping.Withdeftfingersshepluckedtheitemsfromthetrashandshovedthecontentsbackinandthenflungthebackpackoverhershoulderandscrambledoutofthedumpster.Thenshewasgone.JoysurgedthroughMarlie’schest.Herheartpoundedwithanticipationasshestoppedbyaparkbenchandsat. Herchestroseandfellasshetookinthecoolair.Withasmileshelookedagain.Firstsheexaminedthemetrocardandhelditbeforeherface.Therewasonlyonerideleft.Oneride.Herfacebrightened.The world is full of opportunities, the most vital piece is the opportunity,herfatherwouldalwayssay.Thenextthingwasthefoldedpieceofpaper:

We want to listen to you: Are you sick? Mourning? Just need to rant without interruption? Here at Love to Listen, our focus is on providing support. Please come visit us at Uptown 1139 Avenue where we will provide a free warm meal and a quiet ear. Feel free to stop by and be prepared to be treated with care. You are never alone. With care, Joshua Christii Founder of Love to Listen

Marliereadthenotemoretimesthanshehadintended.Sheap-pearedconcerned,quizzical,stunned.Herjawbulgedandrelaxed.Ques-tionsrivetedthroughherbrainlikeaschooloffishmaneuveringachannel.“Idon’tneedhelp.I’mnotretardedoranything,”shesaidhalf-heartedly. Withaforcedchucklesheshoulderedherbackpackandwalked

Wilborne

Folio 2010

30

towardsthesubway.Shedescendeddownthestairs,thesuddenheatform-ingpricklybeadsofsweatunderherarms.Peopleclusteredontheterminal.Somedangerouslyclosetotheedge,peeringaroundthepillarsanxiously.Thecrowdwasthickwithworkingpeople.Marlietightenedthestrapsonherbackpackandrippedopenthegranolaandchewed.Amaninanavysuitshoutedintohisphone.AHispanicwomaninscrubseyedthefloor.Ateenagersippedatawaterbottle.Marlierippedoffhernail,lookedaroundatthewhirlingsubway,chewedattheskininhermouth,clickedherfingers,finishedthegranola,twiddledwithhershortsandshuddered.Something’s wrong. Someonewaswatchingher.Herheartheavedandthunderedinherears.Itwaslikeherentirefleshwascontractingandreleasing.Hereyesfocusedandunfocused,shefeltfaint.Herpalmsbegantomoistenandsheshivered,cold.Herthroattightenedandhertonguefeltdryanduseless.Hereyeswidenedandshetriedtolookarounddiscreetly.Shescannedthecrowdslowly,ratherpainfully.Shelookedintothecrowd’sfaces,wassome-oneoutthere?Shetightenedhergriponherbag,whenshefeltsomeonebehindher.Herfacedroppedwithhorror.Who is that?Beforeshecouldmovetherewasatightgriponherwristandanarmacrossherwaist.Shecouldn’tmove...avoice.Sheflinched. “ActlikesomethingiswrongandIswearI’llfuckyouup.”Thatvoice.Sheshuddered.Shesaidnothingasthecrowdfoldedandunfoldeditself.Perhapstheylookedlikeanintimatecouple,embracingbeforeasaddeparture.Doorsopenedpeoplecameout.Peoplecamein.Movinglikeafloodthroughavalley.Shecouldn’tfeelherlegs,didn’tknowhowshewasstanding,mouthdry,earsbuzzing.Itsmelledlikerubberandmusk.Hesmelledstill,likethataftershave. “Youtooksomethingsthatbelongtome.”Afact.Hishandclenchedherwristharder,shegasped.Oh god. “It’sinmypocket.” “Fuckdatshit.I’mateachyouavaluablelesson.”Hebeganpullingherbackwards.Flabbergasted,sheresisted.Be good, he won’t hurt you.

Folio 2010

31

“Stop!”Shesaidfirmly,butsoftly. “Iwillbeatdashitouttayouifyoupullascene.”Thethreatrangloudinherears.Thenextsubwayscreechedtoahalt.Peoplepushedthemselvesout.Othersbulliedtheirwayin.Instinctively,Marliebroughtherheadbackandslammedintohisface.Asickeningcrackresounded.Hereleased.Vulgaritiesflewfromhismouthandsheran,slidthroughtheclosingdoorsandgraspedontothepoletosteadyherself.Thecarlurchedforward.Shelookedbackandsawthathewasnolongerthere.Herheartrackeditselfagainstherribcageintrepidation.Oh god.Shesatdownandpeeredattheboard.Shewasgoinginthewrongdirection.HeadedUptown.IndifferentandterrifiedsheallowedherselftoconsidermeetingwiththeLovetoListengroup.I’ll just see what it is and if I don’t like it…Shegotoffatthestopclosettotheavenue.I just won’t come back.Trepi-dationsurgedthroughherframe.Is he following me?Shescuttledupthestairs,nearlyscrapingherkneeandscampereddownthestreetfearfully. Thetwostorybrownstonebuildingloomedonthefarendoftheblock.Itrosedauntinglyovertherestofthebuildings.Marlieobserveditwithcare,straininghereyestoseeifithadanyinscriptionsonitsside.Butshefoundnone.Itlookedwellmanicuredandclean.Shewalkedwithslowmeasuredsteps,hereyeswanderedalongthevariouscracksinthecement.Carscrammedthesidewalk,leavingmereinchesbetweenthem.WithbrowntwitchyhandsandmeanderingeyesMarlieleanedovertopeerintothecars.Acoffeestainedcup,acoloringbookpagetapedtothedashboard,crumbsrestinginthedriverseat.A disheveled over-bearing mother, sheconcluded.Witheverystep,herheartflutteredandhereyesflashedbackandforth.Shepickedherwaydownthestreet,restingtorunherfingersalongablackironfencerisingabovesomebushes,tooktimetopluckleavesandstoptopinchtrashfromtheground.Itapproachedslowly,thebuilding.AndMarliepausedbeforeitandscrutinizedthedoor.Itwasgreenandappearedfresh,withcleanevenstrokes.Upanddown.Upanddown.Abovethedoorrestedasign: Love to Listen.Marlie’sfingerstrembledasshereachedpushedherthumbintothedoorbellandsnubbed

Wilborne

Folio 2010

32

thelightout.Shecouldhearfaintly,abriefchime.Herheartbeatlikeatrottinghorseandherheadspun.Therewasthenearinaudibleclickasthedoorwasunlockedandasoftcreakasthedoorwasopened. “Hello.”Hervoicewashighandshehadapleasantsmile.Shelookedaboutsixty,withhergrayinghairpinnedupinabun.Herbrowneyeslookedfriendly.Like a grandma.“Comeinandsitdowninthewaitingroom.”Marliesatdown.Thewomandisappearedbehindadoortositbe-hindthereceptionistdesk.Theroomwastinywithlightbluewallsdonningframedpictures.Achildwithpaintslatheredonherhands.Asnapshotoftwomenreadingfromapieceofpaper.Astaffphotoofabouttwentywithmatchingshirtsandlargegrinningfaces.Marliejiggledherkneeandlookedfromthepicturestothewoman,andabsentmindedlyrifledthroughthemagazines.Shecouldn’thelpfromshivering,butitwasn’tcold,theroomwaspleasantandwarm.I should leave. “Sweetie?Canyoucomehereplease?” Marlie’sstomachfeltfinickyandherearsseemedtobestuffedwithcottonballs.Shenoddedandgotuptoapproachthedesk.Thewomangrinnedandslidtheglassawaytohandheraclipboard.“Hi,love.”Sheretrievedapenfromasmalltin.“I’mMrs.Laurane,thesecretaryhereatLovetoListen.”Hereyesweresetinthefinelinesofcrow’sfeet.She’s pretty,Marlieobserved.Sherelaxedtookadeepbreathandleanedagainstthecounter. “I’mMarlie.”Mrs.Laurane’seyesbrightened. “Pleasuretomeetyou.”Sheofferedherhand.Marlieclaspeditweakly.“Isthisyourfirsttime,Marlie?”Shenoddedslightly.Lauranestraightenedupinherchair.“Great,”shechided.“HereatLovetoListenweprovideawarmmealandanopportunitytomeetwithoneofourmanystaffandjusttalk.”Shesaid,finishingoffthesentenceratherproudly.“WehaveaNo-Questions-Askedpolicy.Meaningwedon’tprodyourpasthis-toryoraskforyourSocial.Weworkwiththe‘you’youarenow.Soundgood?”Marliethoughtaboutitbriefly.I don’t know what I’m going to talk about. Even if I did have something to say what would be the point? “Yes.”

Folio 2010

33

“Wonderful,filloutthisbriefform.”ShepointedtotheonebeforeMarlie,wholookeditoverandthenplacedpentopaper.“Thisisjusttogetsomeinformationonyou,ifyouweretocomeback.”Whenshefinished,Lauranetookitandscannedoverthepaper. “…Oh,JoshuaChristii!”Shebeamed.“Heisoneofthebesthere.Pleasetakeaseatandsomeonewillbewithyoushortly,forlunch.”Marlienoddedonceagain.AfterafewmomentsanolderwomanwithtwostrandtwistsandaSouthernaccentledhertoalargediningcafeteria.Morepic-tures.Morephotos.Morefaces.Marliesatwhereofferedandwashandedasmallmenutochoosefrom.SheanxiouslypickedouttheCaesarsaladwiththeturkey,cranberryandcheesePaniniandwaited.ThefoodwasdeliveredtoherwarmandMarliequicklythankedthewomanbeforeeating.Every-thingwasdelicious.ShehadtorefrainfromrunningherfingersalongthebottomofthebowltofinishtheParmesancheesesauce.Shewipedherfingerswithanapkinandlickedherlips. “Marlie?”Amale’svoiceinquired.Sheliftedherheadtoseeayoungblackmanwithanearringglintinginhislobe.Shesmiledpolitely. “Hi.”Hesmiledback,extendingahand. “I’mJoshua.”Heshookherhand.“Comefollowme.”Hegesturedtothehallway.“Let’sgotomyoffice.”Shepickedupherbagandobeyed.Itwasn’tfar;sheturnedintoacozyroomwithtwocomfychairs.Shesankintoone,almostemittingasighofrelief.Hefollowedandpulledoutherfileandreaditquickly. “Sowhat’snewinyourlife?”Hisvoicewassmoothandsincere.Heheldhergazepatiently,runninghisfingersalongtherimofthechairsarm.Hereclineddeeperintotheseat,kickedoffhisshoesandthensettledhiseyesbackonher.Marliecopiedhimandgotcomfortable.Sheletherhandgoofherbagandrestedherfingersinherlap.Thequestionwassoinviting,sorevealing.Shemulleditover,thesilenceintheroomneutral.Sheranthewordsthroughhermind,tryingtocatchthemononeparticularmoment,onephrase,onesituation.Butcouldn’t.Itwasalltoomuchtotalkabout.What’s new? What isn’t new?Shemadetoopenhermouth,butdidn’t.Hereyesdancedaroundonthecarpetfloor.Itwasapatternofvariouscolored

Wilborne

Folio 2010

34

squaresintersectingagainstblack.Why should I talk to him?I don’t even know him… why does he care?Sherolledherlips.That’s stupid. You’re making excuses.Marliescruncheduphereyes. “Nothing,”Shesaidloudly.Joshuasmiledandscratchedhishead. “Hmm.That’shardtobelieve.”Marlieshruggedhershouldersandbeganplayingwithherearlobe.Moresilence.I don’t need this.“Imeanisthereanythingthatisweighingonyourchest?”No. “Well,”shebegan,twirlingastringaroundherfinger.“Mydaddiedjustrecently,”shesaid.Stupid. Why did you say that? Shekneadedherteethintoherbottomlip.Don’t cry. “Howdoyoufeelaboutit?”Histonewascompassionate;thesoundofhisvoicewassoothing.Whensheopenedhermouth,shecouldn’tstopfromtalking.Shewailedaboutherfather’sdeathandhowclosetheyhadbeen,howunexpecteditwas.Howshedidn’tknowwhattodososhelefthomeandhadn’tbeenbacksince.Sherevealedtheinnocentfeelingsofherheart.Abandonment.Hatred.Guilt. “Imean.Howdoesanormalpersonjustgo,getsickanddie?”sheasked,snifflingintoatissue.Joshuaheldhergazesteadilyasifreturningthequestion.Marlietookthecueandreplied.“Shithappens.” Joshuashiftedinhisseat,pullingalegunderneathhim.“Wouldyouhaveeverbeenreadyforyourfather’sdeath?”Marlielookedupathimwithdisgust. “Whatkindaquestionisthat?”Hervoicewasshrill.Heplacedhishandsoutinfrontofhimquickly,asiftowardoffanattack. “Don’tgetmewrong,butcouldyouhaveeverpickedadaywhenyouwouldhavebeenlike“Hecandienow.I’llbeokay.”?”Marlie’schestroseupanddownfuriously. “AreyousayingthatI’mbeingtoosensitive?”Sheyelled,gettingtoherfeet.Furycoursedthroughherveinsassheclenchedherfingerstightly.Heshookhishead. “No,I’mnotsayingthatall.I--,”Shecuthimoffvehemently.

Folio 2010

35

“Youcan’tpreparefordeath.Godjustsmitespeopledownforfun!”Shescreamed.Joshuastoodtomeetherfuriousstare. Hisvoiceremainedcalm.“Fouryearsago,myoldersisterwasmurderedontheeveofhertwentiethbirthday.”Marlie’sfacerelaxed,slightly.“Ittookthreeyearsformetoreallyconfrontmyproblems.Ifeltthesamewayyoufeelnow.”Heofferedheranothertissue,shedidn’ttakeit.“IalwaysthoughtthatifshehadjustdiedafewdayslaterorwhenIwasolderorwhenIwasn’tsomadatherorwhenIdidn’tneedheranymore…”Hepausedandstaredpasther.“ThatIwouldbe…okay.”Hiseyesreconnectedwithhers.“Iknowhowyoufeel.”Marliestaredathim,blankly. “Iwanttogo.”Shesaidmaliciously. Hereacheddowntogathertheclipboardandwroteoutafewwords.“Here.”Hehandedittoher.“Ifyouwannatalk,here’smynumberandofficehours.”Afteramoment,Marliereluctantlytookit.Heledheroutoftheroomanddownthehalltothefrontdesk. “Stopbyifyouwanttotalk,orsomething.”Heopenedthedoorforher.Shesteppedoutintothedarknight.Shebeganwalkingaway.“ByeMarlie,TheLordhasblessedyou.”Shelookedoverhershoulderabruptly,butthedoorwasclosed. Shecrumpledthepaperintoaballandtosseditontheground.Theheelsofhershoesscrapedthecementasshestormedaway.Thenshestopped.Pausedandturnedaroundtolookdownthestreet.Thestreetlightswereburningasoftandpaleyellowoutinthenight.Shecouldhearthetreesrustlingasthewindcaressedthem.Justbarely,Marliecouldseetheballeduppaperlyingdiscardedontheground.You should go back and get it,shethought.

Wilborne

Folio 2010

36

Jared CoffinDiscernment

Second Place, Folio Poetry Contest

Inouryouthwehangdrinkingthecoolsweatofsunlight,nakedinaSwissvineyard,

blossomingintofragile,pinklungs,meditatingonthewhitefainthieroglyphicAlps.

Thereisatrainthatrunsthiswayshuttledouttheendofatunnelsomuchlikearolloffilmshuttledthroughacamera,withitssquareviewportssuperimposedwithfinalfaces.

Gropingtheairwithourblindhands,alldocileandfinicky,queerandavuncular,lollingingentlysensuousshapeseachglobeofourexistencewondersatyourfrailpowersofrecognition.

Perhapsitisourthousandfaceseachgrownlargeandcalmastheeyesofablindhorse.Nomatter–youforget.

Folio 2010

37

Pressedandstompedintotheindistinguishableexistenceofliquidity,lefttoageinthetighthipsofabottleexiledtodarknessforthesakeofelixirhood–

wearefuriousuponourliberation,rushingfromglasstoglasstobejudgedbythecolorofourcollectivelyobliteratedskin.

Please,enjoyourvelvetburnonthepinkgill-wallsofyourthroat.Soonwewillcoursethroughyourmazeofveinsconspiringwithyourownbloodtomakeyourage.

Youwilltrodthestreetsshoutingobscenities,forcingtouriststochangenamesandseats,pacesandfacialexpressions.

Inthethirdpersonyouwillseeyourselfyourquick,garbledvoiceinformingachild:J’ai besoin d’un ami!Youwillheareachsyllableun-nestlefromyourpinkgill-throatandwillstruggletodiscernwhichofyourthousandinseparablefaceshasspoken.

Coffin

Folio 2010

3�

Lies My Father Told Me

WhenIwasachild,myfathertoldmemanywonderfulthingswhichIdidnotunderstand.Hesaidonehundredcopperpennieswereworththesameasasingledollar–Iknewhewaslying.

Whenhetooktowriting,disappearingtohisofficetomakesoundsthathadnomeaning,Iwouldimaginetheletterseachclinkmightbe.

Whenthesoundsstopped,hereappeared,kneelingtowhisperasecret:words,hesaid,onlylivesolongthemorethey’reusedthefastertheydie,butwithpeople,it’stheopposite.

Ithoughthewaslyingagain,butmothersaiditwastrue.Ibelievedher,toldherIwantedtogetdadsomenewwordssincesomanyofhismustbedead,withallthesoundhemakes.

Folio 2010

39

Rummagingintheshadowsandcedarsmellofmyfather’sdesk,Ifoundsomeabandonedletters.Mostlyconsonants,afewnubilevowels.Thatwinter,Iincubatedtheminthewarmpalmsofadictionary,hopingtocoaxthemintofreshnewwords.

Eachnight,Iwouldreadtothelettersfromathesaurus,showingthemallthefabulouswordstheycouldbecome.Astheygotolder,andIcouldfeeltheirsmallbodieswarmingthedictionary,motherreadpoetrytothem,thewayshewouldsingtomeinthewomb,trickingmetocomeout.

Inthenextroom,shewasgrowingnotesbetweenlayersofblanksheetmusic,andshewouldplaysongsforthemmuchthesamewayIreadtomyletters,yetbothrefusedtobeborn.

Iaskedmother,atwhatpointdolettersbecomewords?Howlongmusttheyremaininthedictionary?Shewashonestandsaidshedidnotknow.OnedayIlistenedtomylettersthroughanoldstethoscope,excitedtohearthebone-scrapeofconsonantsandthefaintgroaningofvowels.

Coffin

Folio 2010

40

Thenextmorning,theyweregone.Mydad’sroundfacegreetedmewithablindsmilewhenIrantohisofficewithquestionsandtears.Hehadalreadyburiedsomewithinthemanysentencesofastory;afewwerebornadverbsandhehadabortedthem,lefttheminkyanddecomposinginthetrashcan.

Adam KomosinksiClam Corn Cup

Adam KomosinksiClam Hunt Mug

Allison WalshMama ~ Second Place, Folio Art Contest

Allison WalshRust

Allison WalshUntitled

Lisa TursoUntitled

Tammy MillerUntitled

Sean SullivanSplit Decisions

Sean SullivanSelf Portrait

Becky SchaffrickLife & Death

Jessica HallidayAlice

Neil PascarellaReflections ~ Honorable Mention, Folio Art Contest

Haley SmithRolling Petals

Amber LewisUntitled

Benjamin QuesnelDJ ~ First Place, Folio Art Contest

Benjamin QuesnelLollipop

Folio 2010

57

Coffin

Shadows

Blackmittenstitchedtoyourspirit–whatanovelinvention.youthinkIleaveyoutojointhefabricofthenight–Idonotthatsilhouette,followingyouassomesayGoddoes,inthewomb,brackishurnoftheunborn,whenyouwerethecoalescenceoftwocellsafish-slipperyembryoathump:ahiddenmetronome.You–anupsetstomach,imagelessandformlessandunabashed,

Melistingdumblyatmymooringatiredflagweigheddownbyblackwaterandblood.Whencalloftheworldfinallyreachedyourearswithitsbluenotesoflonging,andthebodycoughedyoufleshtoair,freshasanun-inventedwordscrapingoutofthethroatinathickbruiseofsound,

Folio 2010

5�

Iwasbirthed,blossominginadimaperturebeneathyournew,fragilebody,formfittingandfulloflife.

Nowasouvenirofbirth–vestigeofalandirretrievableasadream.

Icry,darkcousintothebellybutton,Iwillneverceasetooverprintyourgroundwithmyflickers.IamanobstinatetattooIamtheearth’smascara:sable,fluid,andunwashable.CarrymeacrossyourroughsurfacesoflandandIwillskimthemlightlyasaship.InwaterIwillshiveroverpulsesofwavesglisteninglikefracturedmirrorsbutdonotbedeluded;thoughyoucallmeafractureofonce-coherentlight,Iamwhole.Inallyourfreedomyoucannotkillmethoughyoufuddleaboutunderthewhitecoinofthemoon,hopingtocoveryourdarknesswithdarkness.

Folio 2010

59

FromtheboxofglassandAstroturf,IwatchedEmmitrollupanddowntheslantedyardasIanandGeoffsmokedandtalkedshop.Shopforthemwasmunitionsanddeployment,whyGeoffhadaplateinhishead,andwhyIandidn’tgetclearancefornuclearweaponsstacking.MymomandItalkedabouthealthcare,andwhyherfamilymembersaredicksonlyifpolitics(oroneofanassortmentofothertopics,forthatmatter)aremen-tioned.Iwasontomythirdofsomestrangepirate-themedbeerwhenmymotherdeclaredthechilitobeedible,andwemovedfivefeettothediningroom. Ilookedoutovermymother’sfrontlawn,whichconsistedofaspiralingstonestaircaseandaforty-fivedegreelawn,bothconnectingneatlyagainstahighway.Ian,mybrotherandmyride,hadhiscarparkedinwhatservedforadriveway,asmallnookofpavementconvenientlycarvedintothearduousslantofgrassandweeds.Sincehehadmovedouthehadtodriveanextrahourtobringme. Mymother’schilihasalwaysbeenessentiallygroundbeefwithafewbeansmixedin,unlessI’mmistaken.It’sbeenaconstant,enoughsothatwhenmymotheraskedaftermydad,Icouldn’tthinkstraight. “Well,he’sgotdenturesnow,stillsmoking,sameshitjob,y’know?Nothingterriblynew.” “Oh.” Itriednottomentionhowmuchhappierheseemed,howhefinallystoppedkillinghimselfwithovertime,howhiswifeactuallybother-ingtohelpfinanciallyseemedtobetheonlythingthatmadethispossible.Ibegantopokeherinthecheeksuntilshecomplained,aswasthecustominmomentswhenIhadn’tacluewhattosaytoher.Geoffsavedmefromthisbychangingthetopictobitchingabouthowhisson,Emmit,wouldonlyeathotdogs.

Galen KnoxNothing Terribly New

Knox

Folio 2010

60

“WellIguesshe’sjustatthatfuckingagewherehewon’teatshit,eh?”helaughed. IstaredatEmmit,whoshookhisheadwithsomestrangesnortinggurgleIrarelyhearpeopleproduce. “Iwon’teatthistoday,maybeinaboutfiveweeks.Januaryseventh,Ieatitthen.”Emmitstuttered. “Yousee,healwaysdoesthis.Hewon’teatthings,an’thenhemakesweirdexcusesaboutit.” “Leasthedoesn’tjustthrowitatmelikeyoudid,”jokedmymother. “Yeah,well,heshouldjusteathisfuckingfoodorelsehe’sgoingthefucktobed,”insistedGeoff,staringEmmitdown,whocapitulatedwithaspoonful. Istaredathim,tightlipped,ignoringhisfather.Iassumedhewasn’tallthere.Iwasn’teither,atseven.ImusteredwhatlittledefenseIcaredtostateanduttered,“So,Ilearnedsomethinginoneofmyclassesabouthowpunishmentonlymakesitworse,andastructuredrewardsystemencouragesimprovement.” WhileEmmitsilentlyfork-pokedhischili,Ianretorted,“Someoneshouldtellthattomyboss!TheclosestthingtoarewardIgetisknowingthattheG.I.Billisgoingtoletmequit,eventually.” “Oh?That’sgreattohear!Areyougoingforartlikeyouwanted?”repliedMum,coupledwith,“Geoff,couldyoujustmakethekidafuckinghotdogandsendhimtobedalready.” “Alrightyoulittleshit,I’llmakeyouahotdog.CooltohearaboutartschoolIan.Y’hearI’mworkingonanursingdegreenow?”Geoffsaid,gettingupandsteppingtothefridgetohelpEmmitout. Isighed,turningandinquiring,“SoMom,whyhaven’tyoustartedgoingforyourRN?It’sbeen,what,twentyyearsnow?EvenDadisgettingonesohecanretire.” Theroomwasstaringatme,evenEmmit,hotdoginmouth. “Well,yousee,Geoffandmearetakingturns.Whenhefinishes,

Folio 2010

61

I’llgotoschool.”shesaid,smiling,eyesdartingfromGeoffandme.Iself-ishlyhopedshewasasawkwardasIwasaboutthis. “Soyou’rethebreadwinnerthen,ehMom?”Ianjoked. Unabletohelpmyself,Iadded,“Quiterevolutionaryofyou.” Geoffprotested,“Woah,Ijustcan’thandleallthosedamnsalesjobsanymore.Toomuchrushingandgoddamnpeople.Soyourmomwasniceenoughtohelpout.” “Soyouwentintonursing?”Ianprodded,whereIcouldnot. “Yeah.” “Togetawayfromtherushing.Andthepeople.” “Wellyeah,Iknowthere’sabunchofthatshitinnursingtoo.ButatleastI’llbehelpingpeople.” Therewasapause.Mymothersmiledatme,seemingproudofGeoff.IanandIshareddoubtfullooks.Emmitpokedanemptyplate. “Ican,canIgotobed?”Emmitpleaded.Geoffstoodupwithalowsigh,sayingwithutmostcompassion,“Alright,com’ereshitbox,let’sputyoutobed.” GeoffandEmmitsteppedoutoftheroom,andmymothersmiled,silentlyexcusingherselftothebathroom.IturnedtoIan,takingthepre-ciousmomentstoconspire. “Didn’tmomleavebecauseshewastiredofdoingwork?” “Howisdaddoing?”Iansaid,dodging. “Oh,um.He’salmostdoneremodelingthehouse.Actuallybeensleeping,downtoapackaday,stufflikethat.” “Cool,youhadmeworriedabitbefore.LasttimeIwasthereheseemedalright.” “Yeah,didn’tyoutwojamforawhilethen?” Mymotherslidbackintotheroom,sittingnexttoIan.Hugginghim,shesaidbrightly,“Soyourfather’spickeduptheguitaragain,hashe?” “Yeah,hejustfixedupthat‘73LesPaul.” “Wasn’tthatabass?”spokemyconfederates,inunison.Geoff,con-tinuingtheprocessionofinterruptions,returnedtotheroom. “Bass?”

Knox

Folio 2010

62

Thethreeofusjustsmiledathim,eachslightlylessgleefulthanthelast.Itwasmymother’splacetobroachthesubject,Ithought.Iwasn’tabouttotalktoGeoffforhoursaboutmymother’sex-husband’svintagemusicequipment.Heshrugged,takinghisplaceatthefootofthetable.Well,theheadrealistically. “Whatever.” Thepreviousstiltedconversationandconsumptiongone,andGeoffhavingquietlysentEmmittobed,theairwasslightlymorefree.Slightly.Itlackedthatsubtleharshnessthatwatchingayoungeryougetderidedbrings,anyway.Geofflikelyfeltmorefreenowaswell,ashede-clared“Soyeah,thiswholeeducationthingsashamanyhow.Theyjusttakeallyourmoneyforapieceofpaper,anddon’tteachyouanyshityouneed.Afterall,I’vegotadegree,anditdoesn’thelpmeatallwithfindingajob.God,I’dhatetobeyou,tryingtofindajobwithadegreeinEnglish.” Ididn’tfeellikepointingouthowoftenhegetsfired.Orconceptslikenetworking.Ornotyellingatcustomersuntiltheygetyoufiredandbeingunabletofindajobbecauseyouburneverybridge.Orhowhewasabouttomakethebestnurseever,consideringhowfantasticaparenthewas.Ijuststaredatmysea-thiefthemedbrewasitrapidlylostappeal. “Well,yeahit’sasham,butifyoucan’tevenpassthebasicshit,howareyouworthadamn?Ican’tbelievepeoplearemakingitthroughcol-legewithoutevenknowing...”OneofIan’srarepoliticaltirades,whicharegenerallyiconoclasticandrarelyunheardof,sentGeoffandhimintoarant,safelydistantfrommeandmymother’searsontheothersideofthetable. Mymotherjustsmiledatme.Ipressedthecoldofmybeerbottleagainstthesideofhercheek,sheglared,butdidn’tstopsmiling. “Imissthesedinners.Youshoulddropbymore,”sheinsisted. Ismiledthinlyandgotsomemorechili.Itwas,afterall,oneoftheonlyconstants.EvenifIhadn’thadanyforfiveyears.

Folio 2010

63

Kayla WilliamsPasted Together

Shewassloppilyputtogether.Flakybitsoffleshhodgepodgedontodense,pearlybones.Hermotherandfatherpastedonringletsofblondehairandblue,googlyeyesthatcircledwhitesocketsinshock.ShewastheirbestArtsandCraftsproject,andtheirchild.Shegrewandlearnedhowtowieldastrongadhesive.

Atwork,sheburnsagrislysteakandhastostartagain.Herbossyellsathertohurryandservethecustomers.Ablue,tear-stained,googlyeyepeels,unfastens,andplopsintopeasoup.Sheshouldhaveusedsuper-gluemascara.

Herstiff,crustyhandsfeellikeflypaperagainsttheoutsideofherapartmentdoor,andsheseesthestickypost-itfromthelandlordwhowantsrent.Herhandunfurlsanddropsfromhercrustywrist.

Williams

Folio 2010

64

Whenherweakfingersdialanunsteady,on-and-off-and-on-boyfriend,agirlishshriekanswersthephoneinsteadofathroatybaritone.Hereagersmilecurls,shrivels,andpullsawayfromherivoryskin.Itwon’tstickwithouttheElmer’s.Soshepicksitoffandleavesthick,dryscabsofwhite.

Shesearchesforaquickfix,moresquelchingglobsofmilkymolassestocureher,butit’stoolate.HercementedarmlosesIt’scohesion.Itthrashesonthefloor.Herlegsunhingefromtheirjointsofputty.Hertorsoisleftunbalancedanditfallssideways.Herheadloosens,unfastensfromherbreakingneck,andpitchesforward.Itrollsnexttoherdetachedarm.Sheisamessymosaicoflimbsleftstrewnacrosstheshaggycarpet.Faded,splittingpiecesofherselfwaitforsomeonewithanadhesive.

Folio 2010

65

Bi-polar.Manicdepressiondisorder.Nomatterwhatyoucallit,itsucks.Constantmoodswings.Fromfeelinglikeyouwanttodietofeelinglikeyou’reontopoftheworld.Mostpeoplesaythe“depression”partistheworst.Imean,itmakessense.Whowantstoconstantlyfeellikekillingthemselves,neverwantingtogetoutofbed,notcaringaboutanything?Ithinkthemanicpartistheworst.Yourmindfeelslikeaballoftangledyarnwhereyoucanneverquitefindthebeginningortheend.Youfeellikeyou’reonaninnumerableamountofdrugs,allaffectingyourbodyinwaysyouneverexpected.Pureeuphoria,yetsomuchpain.Thoughtscomeandgo.Completechaos. Allmythoughtsarefleeting.Ican’tcontrolmymind.Ican’tcontrolmyactions.IwritethisstorytodetailmylifeinthebestwayIcan:insmallsnapshotsfromdifferenttimesthroughoutmylife.Iblameitonthemania-thefactthatIcan’tconcentrateonanythinglongenoughtowriteabeauti-fuldetailedstoryfilledwithmetaphorsthatmakethereaderspondertheirownlives.Isayit’sthemania.OrisitbecauseItrymyhardestnottofocusonthesethingsfortoolong? Mymother,LindaSpinelli.IseemtocallherthatmoreoftenthanIdo“mom.”Welivedinsixdifferentapartmentsintenyears,andeachapartmenthadthesamecouch.Anold,wornoutbrown,almostcorduroycouch.Thestuffingwasfallingoutofeacharmduetooutcatsusingitastheirpersonalscratchingpost.Mymomalwayscalleditour“sickcouch.”Ifwestayedhomesickfromschool,shewouldpromptlylayusdownonthecouchandcoveruswithourfavoriteblanket.She’dlaywithusuntilwefellasleep,fightingoffwhateverfeverorillnesswehad.Ifuckinglovedthatcouch. Slowly,mymomstartedspendingmoreandmoretimeonthatcouch.Shehardlyeversleptinherownroomwithherboyfriend.Dayand

Jamie ConwayMania

Honorable Mention, Folio Fiction Contest

Conway

Folio 2010

66

night,shewouldbeonthatold,nowbecominggross,browncouch.Iwouldworryabouther.Whywasmymomalwayssick?WhatcouldIdotohelpher?First,mymomtoldmeshehadmigraines,whichiswhysheneededtolayinthedark.Afterafewyearsofthatlie,shetoldmethatshewasdepressedsoshewantedtosleepalot.Shewasgettingclosertothetruth.Astimewenton,hertimeonthecouchbecamefilledwithuncon-sciousness,andwhenshewasawake,mumbledspeechwithhereyesrolledbackinherhead.Istartedtorealizewhatthetruthreallywas.Thiswaswhenshebecame“LindaSpinelli”tome.Butstill,IknewIhadtotakecareofher.Isatwithherfrommorninguntilnight,hopingonedayeverythingwouldchange. Apparentlytenyearsofprayingthatmymotherwouldchangeherlifedidn’tdoadamnthing.Thereshewas,intheICUconnectedtowhatseemedlikeeverymachinethehospitalowned.Thosemachineswerekeep-ingheralive.Nobodyknewhowshegotthere.Nobodycouldtelluswhatthehellhappenedtoher.AllIknewthatmy55yearoldmotherwasonthevergeofdeath,anditdefinitelywasn’tduetonaturalcauses.Isuspectedwhathadhappenedtoher.Ihadbeenhavingdreamsaboutitforweeksbeforethisevenhappened.Iconstantlydreamedaboutherex-boyfriend,comingtoherapartment,andgivingherthevarietyofdrugsthatsheloved-coke,heroin,andherfavorite:OxyContin.Thesewerethedrugsthathegotheraddictedto.Oncethenursestoldusamanbroughtmymothertothehospital,Iknewitwastimetogotoherapartmentandtrytoputallofthepiecestogether. Shelivedinagovernmenthousingapartmentbuilding.Large,bro-kendownbrownbuildingsurroundedbymetalfencingthatpeoplehadcutthrough.Peoplesatoutsideandwatchedwhowascominginandoutofthebuilding.Itwaswhattheirlifehadamountedto.Mymomalwaystoldmeitwasforpeoplewhowerementallyillorphysicallydisabled.Shesaidshegottolivetherebecauseofherdepressionandagoraphobia.Itwasallbullshitthough.Thatbuildingwasforcrackheadsandalcoholicsandeverybodyknewit.

Folio 2010

67

Ifoundthemanageroftheapartmentcomplexandtoldherthesituation.OnceImentionedthename“LindaSpinelli”sheletoutalongsigh,apologizedforwhathadhappened,andputherarmaroundme.Shegavemethekeystomymother’sapartmentandtriedtotellmeanecdotesaboutmymother.IwantedtoshoutinherfacethatIdidn’tgiveashit.Instead,Ithankedherandwalkeduptothesixthfloor. IcouldsmellherapartmentthesecondIexitedthestairwell,thestenchofcatlitterandcigarettes.ButwhenIopenedthedoor,IwasmoredisgustedthenIusuallywasuponenteringhertinyoneroomapartment.Hermattresswasflippedover,strippedofblankets,coveredinherownwaste.ThefloorswerecoveredwithonlyGodknowswhat;Icouldbarelywalkanywhere.Theentireapartmentwasturnedupside-down.Emptypillbottlesandliquorbottleswerescatteredacrosstheroom.Myinstinctswereright.Mymotherhadoverdosed.Someoneplayedapartinit.TheywatchedheringestamixofOxyContin,vodka,andheroinandthenlefthertodie.Andweallknowwhoitwas. HemovedintoourhousewhenIwasthreeyearsold,justmonthsaftermydadleft.Mymommethimatwork,theRadissonHotel,beforehegotfired.Hewasincrediblyoverweight,greasyhairslickedback,withpinktintedglasses.Hewasalsoeighteenyearsyoungerthanmymother.SheintroducedhimasZippy,hernewboyfriend.Iknewhewasgonnafuckupmylife;hewasgonnafuckupallofourlives. IwastenwhenallhellreallybrokeloosewithZippy.Iwassittingonthecouch,tryingtohideundermyblanketwhilehewasscreamingagain.Hehadmymotherbythecollaroftheshirt,yellinginherface,toss-ingheraroundtheroom.Ididn’tevenknowwhathalfthenameshewascallinghermeant.ShewassayingsomewordsthatIdidn’tknoweither.Ourbig,bluehousesituatedbetweenthewoodsandthehighwayshookashechasedheraround.Mybrotherstayedinhisroomwithhisfriends,gettinghigh. Mymotherfinallystoppedyelling.Shesankintothecorner,cryinginfearofwhathewoulddotohernext.Hegrabbedheragain.Icouldn’t

Conway

Folio 2010

6�

beartolook.Icalled911andpleadedtotheoperatortosendsomeoneasquickaspossible.Iknewitwasgoingtotakeforeversinceourtowndidn’tactuallyhavecops;we’dhavetowaitforthestatetroopers.Ihidunderthetable,myhandscoveringmyears,rockingbackandforth,justwaitingforsomeonetosavemymother. Thefightgotsoloudthatmybrotherfinallycamedownstairs.Heraceddownthestairwell,pastthewallsthatwerefilledwithholesthathehadcausedinotherfitsofrage.IheardmybrotherscreamingatZippy,tellinghimtogetthefuckawayfromourmother.Iheardglassshatteringfollowedbyashriekfrommymother.Iranintothelivingroomtofindmybrotherwithabrokenwinebottleinhishand,swingingitaroundlikeaweapon,threateningZippy.Hehititagainstthetelevision,causingboththescreenandthebottletoshatter,leavingshardsofglasseverywhere.Zippypickedmybrotherupbythethroatandthrewhimintothewall.Hewasonlyfourteen,justalittleover100pounds,tryingtodefendhimselfagainsta300poundman.Zippyheldhimagainstthewalluntilmybrotherfinallygavein.Hecouldnolongerbreathe.Hecollapsedtothefloor. Atthatmoment,thetroopersshowedupatourhouse.TheymadeZippyleave.Theytoldhimtopackanovernightbagandtocallandfindsomewhereelsetostaythatnight.Nohandcuffs,noarrests,butIstillhopedthathewouldbegoneforever.Ihopedthatmymotherwasgoingtobestrongandfinallymoveusoutofthishorribleplace.10:00AMthenextmorning,hewasback. ThiswaswhenIsawmybrotherbeginningtochange.Michael,fouryearsolderthanme,becameangrierandangrier.HehidinhisroomgettinghighwhileItookcareofourmotherandthehouse.JustafewmonthsafterhisfirsttruealtercationwithZippy,itwasapparenttoallthatDavidhadchanged. Weallcalledit“Downtown”asajoke.HigganumCenter.Ithadanythinganybodyinthattownwouldneed:twopizzaplaces,adrugstore,andthreepackagestores.Davidandhisfriendsusedtospendmostnightswalkingaroundthere.Therewasnothingelsetodointhatfuckingtown.

Folio 2010

69

Theyallprettymuchlivedatmyhouse:fiveofMichael’sfriends,whowouldsneakthroughthewindowsandstayatourhousemoreoftenthannot.TheyweredoingtheirstandardwalkaroundtheCenter,aroundmidnight.FrombehindtheaptlynamedHigganumDrugCenter,theonlypharmacyformiles,cameagroupkidsarmedwithknives.TheycorneredMichaelandallofhisfriends,threateningthem.MybrotherhadsoldthemLSDandap-parentlytheyweren’thappywiththeproduct.InHigganum,thatwasasin;youdidn’tfuckaroundwithpeople’sdrugs. Matt,whowaslikeasecondbrothertome,wasbeingchokedbyoneoftherival“gang”members.HewrappedthestrapofhisbackpackaroundMatt’sneckandwouldn’tletgountilMattwasontheground,gasp-ingforair.That’swhatsetMichaeloff.Hewasstillonlyaboutfourteen,100pounds.That’swhyhecarriedaroundRojo–theredleadpipethatlivedinhisbackpack.Mybrotherexpectedaneventlikethistoariseandheknewhewouldneverbeabletodefendhimselfonhisown.MichaeltookRojoandhittheringleaderwithit,inthehead.Onequickblowandhewasontheground,screaminginpain,bloodeverywhere. Theinfamousstatetroopersshowedup.TheyknewMichaelandallhisfriends.Thiswasn’ttheirfirstruninwiththem.Theyhadnochancethistime.Davidwassenttojail,waitingformyfathertocomebailhimout. Afewmonthslaterthetrooperswereatmydooryetagain.Iprettymuchknewallofthembythen.Thistime,however,theywereaccom-paniedbysomeothermen.Twomeninsuitswithbriefcasesandalotofpaperwork.TheywerefromDCF.Thedaywefearedformonthshadfinallycome.DCFcametotakemybrotherawayfromtheunstableenvironmentthatwasourmother’shouseandbringhimtolivewithourdadandhisnewwife.Hisnewwife,Sharon,hadcalledDFConmymotheroncountlessoc-casions.Shewouldcallmymotherandthreatenher,sayingthatshewasnogoodofamotherandshedidn’tdeservetohaveusanymore.Finally,theyweren’tjustthreatsanymore. Behindourhousewerewoodsthatspanned20acres.Mybrotherescapedouthiswindowandtriedtorunintothewoods.Hedidn’twanttobetakenaway.Thetrooperscaughthimanddraggedhimdownthehills

Conway

Folio 2010

70

andpulledhimbackintoourhouse.Hetossedabunchofhisshitinagarbagebag,andwaspulleddownthestairsforcefullybythetroopersandtossedintothebackofacar.Wewereonlyallowedquickgoodbyes,andthenhewasgone.Wedidn’tknowifwewouldeverbeallowedtoseehimeveryagain. MybrotherandIhadnevergottenalong.Iknewhewaspartofthereasonmylifewassuchamess.Butthatnight,Icriedwhenheleft.MymomandIpackeduphisroomandcleaneduptomakesuretherewasn’tanythingillegalthatthetrooperscouldcomebackthatnightandfind.Mymothercried-shethoughtshewasafailure.IcriedbecausemyfamilywasbeingrippedapartandIwasstuckinthemiddle. Later,Icriedforanotherreason.Whydidmydadwantmybrotherandnotme?IbegantothinkbacktothefirstmemoryIhadofmydad.Actually,itwasthefirstmemoryIhadofmylife. Iwasabouttwoyearsold.Ilaidonthecouch,buryingmyheadinthebrownfabric-thebeginningofthesickcouch.Itriedtokeepmyeyesclosedtight,butIwouldsneaklittleglancesasoftenasIcould.IwantedmymomanddadtothinkthatIhadfallenasleepandthatIdidn’thearwhatwasgoingon.EvenifIwasasleep,didtheyreallythinkIwasgoingtostayasleep?Iwasfivefeetawayfromthemandtheywerescreaming.TheyweretooinvolvedintheirfighttoknowIevenexisted,soIjustkeptpretendingtosleepincasetheydideventuallynoticeme.Evenwithoutmyeyesopen,Icouldfigureoutalmostexactlywhatwasgoingon. Theyfoughtallthetime;yellingwasaconstantinmylife.Ihadneverreallyseenmyparentsgetalong.Idon’thaveasinglememoryofmymomanddadtogether,laughing,enjoyingoneanother’scompany. Mymotherthrewthekeysatmydad’sfaceandshovedhimatthedoor.Hesaidhewouldfightforus.Whatlittleattemptshedidmakeweredeniedbythecourts.Apparently,TomReynoldswasnotafitparent. Fifteenyearslater,Ifinallymovedtotheupper-middleclasstownthatisBerlin.Imovedinthecutelittlehouseattheendofthecul-de-sacwithmydadandstep-mom,whowerenowapparentlytheperfectparents.Thecourtsneverdecidedtotakemeawayfrommymother,butonceour

Folio 2010

71

onlyhouseholdincomewasfromdrugdealing,Idecideditwastimetogo.SoImovedinwithTomandSharonReynoldsandbecameamodelcitizen:spentthesummersdoingcommunityservice,gettingstraightA’s,workingatleasttwojobsatatime.Iwantedtobetheirperfectchild.AfterafewyearsoflivingwithTomReynolds,anamethatcomesoutmucheasierthan“dad”lately,Istartedtorememberthatmydadwasn’talwaysthisperfectfa-therandhumanbeing.Whathappenedtothatguywhousedtodrinkuntilheblackedoutandwouldsmokeajointafterputtingmetobed? HestartedgoingtothesamerestauranteveryFriday:PuertoVal-larta.AMexicanrestaurantontheBerlinTurnpikethatwasactuallyprettylegit.Mydadbecameapartofthatfamily.Hebecamea“Rodriguez”oncetheownerstartedreferringtoTomandSharonashisparents.IconstantlyaskedmydadifhewantedmetoteachhimSpanish.Iwasdesperatetobeinvolvedinthislife.Hetoldmeheknewthewordscerveza,carne,andmas,andthatwasallheneeded.HehadanewfamilynowandIwasn’tevenneeded. HewouldstumblehomedrunkeveryFriday,reekingoffajitasandtequila.Finally,Iturned21andIwaslegallyallowedtojoinmyfather.Iwouldsitatthebarbesidehimandtakethefreetequilashotsthatwerecon-stantlybeingthrownourway.IusedtohateFridaysbecauseTom’sdrunkenasswouldcomeandyellatmeforsomeabsurdreason,usuallycallingmedumborsayingthatIwasn’tgoingtosucceedinlife.Butnow….Iwasrighttherebesidehim,conversingindrunkenwordsthatdidn’tmakesensetoanybodywhowasn’t6deepbythen. Hewasnolonger“TomReynolds:World’sBestParent.Superhero.Savethelivesofhischildrenoneatatime.”HewasbacktotheTomReyn-oldsthatthecourtsdeemedwasnotafitparent15yearsearlier.Justthistime,hehadhiswife’smoney. Inolongerhadtoimpresshim.Wewereequals.JusttwodrunkIrishpeopleatabartalkingabouttheYankees.

Conway

Folio 2010

72

Erin JonesForty Years

FortyYearsandElainecanstillseeherfirstpetstumbleintothekitchen,woozywithDiphacinone;(maybethetincanlookedlikeasnack,andNico--theMaltese--gulpedtheratpoisondownwithsatisfaction)andshecanstillrememberinquiring,petting,atthemomenthestartedkickingout,asifchasingatabbyinhisdreams,butsheknewitwasoverwhenthegreenfoamfromhismouthspilledontolinoleum.

Folio 2010

73

Amanda GamacheNaked in the Snow

Second Place, Folio Fiction Contest Iwaslyingnakedinthesnow,butdidIevertellyouthatItriedtokillmyself?Nojoke,Idid.TheboyIlovedstoppedtalkingtome.Hehadkissedme,heldmeclosetohim—grippingmyhips,pullingmecloseenoughtosmellhiscologne.Itwasn’treallycolognethough.Itwassomecheapstuffhegotinaspraycanatthegrocerystore.Hehadrunhisfingersthroughmyhair;evenliedtomeandtoldmeIwasbeautiful,verybeauti-ful.HeevensaiditinSpanishtomakeitmoreromantic.Thenhewentonvacationwithhisgirlfriend.Toldmehe’dbebackinaweek.Ididn’tsayanything.Iwaitedthesevendays.Hecamebackanddidn’ttalktome.Istoppedhimbeforeheleftworkoneday,hesaidhewasbusy.He’djustbeenbusy,reallybusy.Idrankvodkathatnight.IcriedsohardthatIfeltthedeathacheinmystomach.Ididthedeathrollupthestairs,draggingmyselflikeacrocodilekillsitsprey.Iendedupinmybathroom.Iwasalone.Therewasasmallpieceofglassonthetiles.Ididn’tknowhowitgotthere,butItookitupandranitalongmyarmonce,justalittleways,justatesttoseeifitwouldwork.Itdid.Myskinpartedbutitdidn’tbleed.Itwasjustred,adeepred. Then,mystomachheaving,Imadethebigcut—the‘let’sfinishthis’cut.Itwashighuponmyarmwheretheveinswerethickerandcarriedmoreblood.Ithoughtit’dbeoversoonerifIcutmyselfupthere.Itwasn’ttoolongofacut,maybethreeinches.Itdidn’thurt.That’swhattheyaskedme.Whywouldyouhurtyourself?Ididn’thurtmyself.Imademyselfhappy.Thecutdidn’tbleedmuch,justparted,displayingthatsamedeepred.Itkindofoozedtoo,ayellowreddishcolor.Ihadfailed.Iwasn’treallybleedingatall.Thatsentmybodyintothedeathspirals.Iheldatissuetomyforearmandmademywaytomybed.Ilaidtherecryingandeventuallygotaheadacheandcriedatthatpain.Mymothercameinandlieddownnexttome.Sheheldmeforawhile,andthenaskedwhyIhurtmyself.Ididn’t,Isaid.Ididn’thurtmyself.

Gamache

Folio 2010

74

Iquitworkthenextday—mydadwouldn’tletmegobacktothatjobwithhim.Iwentbacktomytherapistthatnight.Therewerelotsoflongstares.Shehadstringybrownhairandalongnarrowface.Ihadseenheroutsideofthepracticeonce;Iwasworkingasaninventoryspe-cialist—whichbasicallymeantIcouldcount—andshewasthereintheGuilfordCVSlookingatfacewash.IwaslyingonthefloorcountingsomegenericbrandwhenIsawherandmethereyeswithmine.Ismiledandwasabouttospeakwhenshewalkedaway.That’swhenIknewshedidn’tcareaboutme.Ihadbeenseeingherforoverayear.Shekneweverythingandshedidn’tcareaboutme.IfeltlikeIhadbeenraped.Ifeltlikemymindhadbeenraped,likeshehadstuckinherfingersandrippedmymindapart,writingmyembarrassingthoughtsonherpadtolaughatlater. Whydidyoudoit?Sheaskedme.Isatlamely.Hereyebrowspushedtogethermakingherlookolder.Ididn’tevenknowhowoldshewas.Ididn’tknowanythingabouther.Mybodyfeltheavy,limbsachingandallthat,whileshewentonaboutthedangersofcuttingyourself.Accidentscanhappenyouknow.Butthat’swhyIdidit. Iwenttomyothertherapistlater,liketenminuteslater.Andsheprescribedmeahigherdoseofantidepressants.Sheexplainedtomehowmybrainwaswrong,thatitwasjustchemicallywrongandthat’swhyIhadallthesethoughts.DidIthinkaboutsuicidealot?Whyyes,eversincetheytoldusnottothinkaboutitintheseventhgradeit’sbeenallIcanthinkabout.Don’tthinkaboutbananas.Whatareyouthinkingaboutnow?Bananas,guaranteed.ButhowmanytimesaweekwouldIsayIthoughtaboutit?Whyeverydaylately.Moreanti-anxietypillstoo,shesaid,ahigherdoseoughttodoit.Shedidn’tcareaboutmeeither.Iwenttothepharmacyandtheydidn’tevenmakethepillsatthatdose,andtherereallywasnowaytobreakthemupandtakehalforsomethingsincetheywereslowreleasecapsules.Shegavemetwobadprescriptions,couldn’tevendoherjob,andthiswasthewomanthatIwassupposedtobegettinghelpfrom.Thiswasthewomanthatwassupposedtocareaboutmywellbeing.Youwouldthinkshe’dknowwhatshewasdoing.Ifeltraped.Myhead,mymind,Ifeltmen-tallyraped.

Folio 2010

75

Igothomeandtrudgedupthestairs.Iwantedmybed.Ifeltnauseous.Mydadcameinmyroomafterafewminutes.Why’dyoudoit?Ishrugged.Itwasnoneofhisbusinessreally.Maybeifhehadn’tthreatenedphysicalrepercussionstomywrong-doingsasachildIwouldhavegrownupandnotbeensoafraid,soafraidofhimoranyone.MaybeIwouldhaveopenedmymouthinhighschool,incollege.SaidIdidn’twanttoleavehome,maybeIwouldhavegrowncourageous.Maybe.ButIwaitedforhimtohitmealways.Tocallmeanameworsethanthelast—whatwasIthistime?AdipshitIthink.Heoughttochokeme.Hedidalmosthitmeonce.IhadbeengrumpyandfightingwithmyGramabecauseshemisplacedmyanti-anxietypills,andwhenIfoundthemIyelledather.Shehadputthemwellwithinreachofthedog.Ididn’twanthimtogetthem.Shewassomadshewentoutside,thebreathsteamingfromhernostrils.Mymomwaslyinginthehospitalbedinthelivingroom.Shehadfallendownsomebleacherstairsandbrokenbothofherfeet—andnomyfatherhadn’tpushedher.She’sjustclumsywhenitcomestofeet.She’salwayshurtingherfeet.Thistimeshediditgood.ButIwassittingtherenexttomymomandmydadcamein,faceasmaroonashisshirt.Goapologizetoyourgrandmother.Youhavenorighttotreatherthisway.Iheldupafinger,notthemiddleone,theindexone,thegivemeamomentone.Iwastoomadtomakeanykindofsincereapology,andIwasn’tsorry.Sheshouldn’thavetouchedmypills.Whenwewerelookingforthemshesaidshedidn’tknowwhatapillbottlelookedlike.Mydadsaidtoher,whatkindoffuckingidiotdoesn’tknowwhatapillbottlelookslike?Heshouldhaveapologizedforthat.Ididn’tsaythattohimbecauseassoonasIputmyfingerdownhechargedatmelikeabull,headdownandeverything.Idodgedthatattackandhastilywasmakingmywaytowardsthedoorwhenhegrabbedmyarm.Hedidn’thurtmyarm,butIsawhisotherhandraisedandballed.Iscreamednottotouchme,buthisteethstayedgrittedandhiseyesmadandlocked.Mymotherscreamedfromthebed.Idon’trememberwhatshesaid.Idon’tthinkIheardthewords,justhervoiceasheletgoandIranoutofthehouse.ItwasMarch,andIdidn’thaveajacketormypurseoranything.Iwalkeddownmydrivewayinsocksandcalledmyfriend.ShepickedmeupandIleft.

Gamache

Folio 2010

76

Myparentsdidn’ttrustmeanymoresinceIslicedmyselfsomyGramacametostaywithme.Oneparticularlybadmorning—afterIhadbeenstaringathispictureallnightonmyphone—Iwascryingsteadilyandmyarmwasaching.Itdidn’tsting;itached.ItfeltlikeIhadtorntheliga-mentsorsomethingbecausewheneverIflexed,itached.NotthatIreallyknowwhattornligamentsfeellike,butIsupposeIcanguess.MyGramaheardmeandcameintomyroom.Stopit,sheyelled.Thenshestarteddancing,chantingaboutdevilsbeinggoneorsomething.IscreamedwhenIrealizedshewasactuallyperforminganexorcismonme.Theoldhag,oldcrazedreligioushagwasnutsenoughtobelieveinallthatnonsense.Iwant-edtothrowmybiologybookather.Readthatoldhag,readaboutDarwinandthentellmeaboutAdamandEve.Iscreamedathertogetoutbutsheignoredme.ShejuststompedandwavedherarmslikeHitler—handsflexedwithstiffstraightmovements.Herboobsswungaround.Itwasdisgusting.AfterawhileIletherdancewithoutcomplaint,butIcouldneverstopcry-ing.Shegavemeawoodencrossandkissedmyforehead,toldmeIwasfreeofallthisnow.WhenshewentbackdownstairsforanapIburntthecross. Sheleftafteraweek.Myparentstoldmetotakethesummeroff.ItwasJune,afterall.Ineededabreak.Imetaboy.Hewasn’tgreatlook-ing,buthewasn’tbad.Hishairwascuttooshortandhisclothestoobigandsortoftacky,butIlethimkissmeandholdmyhand.Istilllovedtheboywhocausedmysuicideline,butwhatcouldIdo,really?Afteracouplemonthsthisnewboytoldmethathelovedme.Ididn’tsayitbackatfirst.ButthenIdidinaspurofthemomentkindofthing.Idon’treallyknowifIlovedhim,butIsaiditsoItriedtomakeittrue.Hewassodifferent,almosttoodifferent.Hedidn’tliketohearaboutmytherapistsandrubbedmysuicidelinewithhisthumbbutneveraskedaboutit.Ilovedmysuicideline.Iwasproudofit.Itwasanicescar,protrudingandwhitelikeastrangesliver.Ilikedpeopletoseeit,toquestionintheirheadsifIwasoneofthose.Youknow,those,thosepeopleyouavoidbecausedeepdownyoudon’twanttoheartheirsorrows,realunhappinessrightthereintheflesh.You’dratherwatchHamletorRomeo & JulietorTitanicorsomeotherfictionalthingandfeelthatsadness,feelthatkindoflongingthenempathizewithsome-

Folio 2010

77

onereal,physical.Youdon’twanttohearthepaindayafterday.Yousaygetoverit,talktosomeoneelse.Or,likethechampionyouare,youavoidthatpersonaltogether.I’moneofthose,thepeoplewhoyouwouldwriteofftogotoatherapistorgotoamentalhospital.Ilikebeingthat,Ilikeseeingthelingeringquestioninpeople’seyes. Onedaywhenweweresitting,swelteringinhisapartment,ItoldhimItriedtokillmyself.Yeahright.NoreallyIdid.Hejustnodded,strok-ingmysuicideline.Ididitbecauseofboy,youknow.Ilovedhimbeforeyou.Henoddedagain.Icouldseethatgleaminhiseye.HewaswonderingifIwouldtrytokillmyselfwhenheleftme.HewaspicturingmesomadlytormentedbymyloveforhimthatIwouldhangmyself,or,orcoulditbepossiblethatI’ddosomethingmoredramatic?Cutmywristsinatubfullofrosepetals;overdosesurroundedbyhispicture.Iwasinsultedbythesegleamsofthought,butIlikedhimtothinkthem.Ithadbeenayearandwedidn’treallyspeakofit,andevenafterthisyearIwasn’tsureifIlovedhim.IknewIlovedhim,butIdidn’tknowifIwasinlovewithhim,thewayJulietlovedRomeoorIsoldelovedTristanorHelenlovedParis.Wehadgottenintoafight,andinmyrage—whichisreallyjustanagitatedstateofcrying—IfinallytoldhimthatIalwaysthoughtaboutsuicide.Hepromptlybrokeupwithme.Saidhecouldn’tbewithsomeonelikeme.Saidhewouldn’tbethecause.Saidhecouldn’tdealwithit.Notanymore,hewantednopartofit. WhenIhungupthephoneItookoffmyclothesandgrabbedmydog.Iturnedontheshower.Ineededtheheat.Isteppedin,puppyinmyarms,andthenmylegsgaveout.Wellnotgaveout,buttheystoppedwork-ingatleast.Isliddowntothetubfloor,myfacebeingpeltedbytheshower.Iheldontomypuppyandcried.Helickedmycheekcontinuously,neverreallyutteringawordofprotesteventhoughhehatedwater.Icrieduntilmycheekswentnumbandmyteethfelttinglyandmystomachwassore.WhenIstartedbreathinghard,fast,Iturnedoffthewater.Ineededtobecold.Iwantedtofeelsnow.Ilayonthebottomofthetub,myfeethighup,restingontheshampoowrack,thepuppylyingbesideme.Iletthewaterturncold.Iletitsheatgoaway,andintheblissfulcoolnessIfellasleep.

Gamache

Folio 2010

7�

Iwokeupbecausethedogwasshivering.Iwrappedhiminatowelanddriedhimoff.Tearswerestillpouringoutofmyeyes.HeleftmeandIwentbackandlayonthebottomofthetub.WhenIputmylegsupagainmyshampoofelldown.Itfell,bouncedandsomehowknockedanakedglassbabyoffalowshelf.Thebabyshattered.Itookapieceofglassandfingereditcarefully.Itsedgesweretuggingatmyskin.Itookitandlookedatmyselfinthemirror.EventhroughthefadingfogIwasahideousshit.Ishouldhavenevercomeoutofthewomb.Ifingeredtheglassagain.Iimag-ineditrunningdownmyarm.Itwouldbealongenvelopinglinethistime.Itwasstilltoohotinthebathroom.Ineededsnow.Iopenedthewindowabovethetoiletandcrawledoutontotheroof.Therewasstillalightlayerofsnowthathadn’tmelted,andhereIwaslyingnakedinit.Icouldseemyneighborsstaringatme,atmybreastsandmycrotch.Thesnowwasbliss-fullycold.MyfingerswerenumbingasIfingeredtheglass.MyarmswerenumbingasIpasseditbackandforth.Istartedtoshakealittleasmytoeswentnumb,andthenthebackofmyheadbegantothrobfromthesnow.Ohthebeautifulsnow.Ikeptplayingwiththeglass.Iwasoneofthose.IwonderedifanyofthemthoughtI’dlienakedlikethis,playwithmytoy.IclosedmyeyesasIfellasleep.

Folio 2010

79

Galen KnoxCake Box

“Shewasalwayslikethat,”theoldmaninsisted.“Allflightyanddepressiveandshit.” Isquintedhard,tryingtomakeouthisfaceinthebrightsun.Cot-tonstucktomyskin,sweatcooledonlybythebreezefromtheopendoor. “Welldon’tjuststandthereandaskdumbquestionsboy,comeoninside,sitdownorsomething.Andputthatcrapsomewhere,”hebarked,tappingthecoffeetablewithhiscaneashepassedthenearbyLa-Z-Boy.AsIsteppedin,Iplacedmy“crap,”agreetingcardandastalecake,onthetablenexttostacksofoldmagazinesandanumberofyet-unfinishedalcoholbottles.Itriedtositoppositefromtheoldman,takingpositionontheendofacouch.Hecontinuedtomillabout,neversitting. “So,howdidyouknowMs.Cuthbert?”Iasked.Probablyagoodplacetostart,Ithought. “Wewere,oldfriends,that’sall.Forawhilethough,wewerecoworkers.Thatwasnice,”hetrailedoff,tappinghiscaneagainsttableandchairlegs,staringoutthewindows.FromwhereIwasevenhismailboxwasobscuredbydistortedlightbouncingoffthepavement.Iwipedmyforeheadagainstmysleeve. “Thisplaceislistedasherlastknownaddress.Yourhome,thatis.Doyouactuallyexpectmetobelieveyoutwohadnothingtodowitheachotherbesidesaprofessionalrelationship?”Iasked,pickingatthemypants,hopingthesweathadn’tvacuumsealedthemtomylegsyet.Regrettably,hecontinueddithering,passinghishandsoverthemantlepieceandstoppingtoglanceatpictureframes.Icouldn’ttellifhewasreminiscingorjusthadneverbeentherebefore. “Oh,ohright.Shemovedoutyearsago,Ithink.Ormonths,allthesametome.Iactuallyboughttheplacefromher.Neededaplaceaftercom-ingbackintothecountry,andsheneededabuyertohelpherleave.I’dsayit’smoreofthatprofessionalrelationshipshit,yeah.”Ashespoke,heclosed

Knox

Folio 2010

�0

hiseyesslowly,openingthemonlyinthelastwords.Hesworemorewhenhemadeeyecontact.Ipeeledmycollarawayfrommyneckandlookedaroundtheroomforadoorintothekitchen.Kitchenshadfridges,whichcontainedwater.Ifeltstupidforhavingatieonintheweather,butnotasdumbasIdidfornotknowingwhothehellthisguywas. “Thisisn’toneofthose‘sorryforyourloss’visits,isit?Ifso,Iain’tgivingyouanywater,andIm’akeepthecake.”hesaid.Hewassizingmeup,grindinghisteethvisibly. “Ohlordno,Ijustwasintownandhadn’tvisitedherinyears.Thoughtacake,youknow,itbeingtodayandall.” “Ain’therbirthday.Youoneofherkids?Buggersneverremembershit.” Iwasalittlecaughtoffguard,figuringhe’dfallforthat.Guesshedidknowher.Thehousewasdecoratedlikeshestilllivedtherethough. “I’msorrysir,perhapsI’mbeingstrange.Woulditbeaterribleimpositiontoaskforsomewater,perhapsasyoutellmehowyouandMs.Cuthbertmet?”BythetimeIworkedupthenervetoaskIwasaudiblypanting.Itwasalmostworsethathedidn’tseembotheredbytheheatatall.Justwatchinghimpace,andstaringoutthewindowsatthecrispedgrassmademethirstier.Hepointedhiscanetothebackoftheroom,atadoor-waythatescapedmynoticeuntilnow. “Waterpitchersinthefridge.Tapsfinickytoday.GrabmeabeerandI’lltellyouaboutit,”hedirected.Littlemademefeelmorelikeachildthanpouringmyselfwaterandhandinghimbeer. “Thebeerwasn’tinthefridge,areyousurethat’salright?”Iasked,answeredbytheoldmanbeforeIfinishedspeaking. “Nah,it’sfine.ColdbeerisforsissiesandAmericans,”hesaid.Iwasn’tsureifthatmeanthewasn’tAmerican,orifhewasjustbeingaprick.Itwasboth,Isuppose.Asthecoldoftheglassnearlystungmyhand,Icouldthinkofnothingbetter.Itwassorefreshing,evenifitwasgritty.Ipretendedhisbeerwascoldtoo,justsoIdidn’tpassoutfromthinkingaboutit. “Istillrememberthatdaylikeitwasyesterday,”hecontinued,“tobeclicheaboutit.Itwasbriskautumn,youknow,thekindwhereyoucan

Folio 2010

�1

smellthecold.Leaveshadanydamncolortheypleased,andwentwherevertheyfeltlikeit.Wewereinhighschoolthen,gymclassIthink.Icanstillrememberthetasteofherlips.” Ifitwasn’tsoneededtosurvivethesweat-boxofalivingroomIwasin,Iwouldhavespitoutmywater.Therewasatleastacouplethingswrongwithhisstory.NamelythinkingofMs.Cuthbertinthatway. “Wait,so,youknewherbeforethesurgeries?Ifyou’renotlyingyou’reabouttheonlyonewhodoes.That’s...”Iwasinterruptedbyhissmile.Itwassnakelike,predatory,mademefeellikeIjustmadeagravemistake. “SoyouknewLisathatway,huhboy?Youareoneofherkids,eh?Adoptedorfromherclasses?”heasked,laughinginthewayonlyoldmenandmurdererscould.Iguessthat’sallitwas.Iletsomeinfosliptohim.Hewasstartingtocreepmeout,though. “Well,eitherway.LisaandImetonthefirstdayofgymclassmysophomoreyearofhighschool.Treesbustling,shimmeringlake,allthatcrap.IguessIwenttoaniceschoolorsomethingiftherewasalake,butIcouldhavejustimaginedit.Eitherway,Irememberseeingherfirstonaswingsetinoneofthosescenes.Youknow,outofplace,youngwomanonaswingset,windandfallingleaves,singlecrackoflightpouringinfromtheskytoilluminateonlyherandallthatrot.Iknewaroundthennothingwasevergoingtohappenbetweenus.Itwastooperfect.Andloandbehold,I’mtalkingtoherkid,whoInevermetbefore,inwhatusedtobeherlivingroom,andnotaoneofusknowwheresheis,right?” “That’saboutthesumofit,sir.So,whatwasshelikebackthen?Iheardshewas...” “Shepassedwell.Thebob-cutwasn’tflatteringthough.Totalwasteonsuchabombshellofaredhead.Shetalkedamileaminute,andnexttonoonecouldkeepup,saveme,orsoIlikedtothink.Alwaysnervous,protectingherselfwithstrangeticksandwelltimedexcuses.” “Excuses?” “Yeah,youknow,leavingtheroomforthebathroomratherthanansweringaquestion,thatkindofstuff.Washardtopinherdownthough.IguessIluckedoutthatfirsttime.”

Knox

Folio 2010

�2

“Soyoutwo,actually?” “Nah,never.Ifuckingwish.Igotasoftpairoflipsoneortwiceinthefirstdecade,andnothingforthenextbunch.Hell,didn’tgetsomuchasa‘heyhowareyou’forthemiddlebunch.Ithinksheonlyrememberedmebecauseeveryoneelsediedormovedawaybythen.Bestforlast,eh?”helaughed,thencoughed,swigginghisroomtemperaturebeerintheconsid-erablyhigherthanthatroom.Ishiftedinmyseatabit,thesunandawk-wardnessofdiscussingtheoldman’sloveaffairsmakingmeuncomfortable.Igavehimapolitesmileandalessthanpolitesarcasticlaugh,sippingatmywater.Morethanhalfofithadpouredoutontothetablefromcondensa-tionbythen.Hewalkedtothebarrenfireplace,restinghisbackagainstthemantle. “Greatblueeyes,too.Likecrusheddiamonds.Prettysureshestillhadthosewhenyouknewherthough.Irememberoneday,snowuptoourwaists,andallIcouldmakeoutwasthoseeyesandalockofthathairagainststeelgrayskies.Shewasanice-queenforawhile.Alltoothygrinsandnoaffectionforanyone.Well,notformeanyway.IthinkIwasboff-ingoneofherfriendsoutofdesperationatthatpoint,”hefinished,withalaughlikesandpaper.Mywaterwasempty,andthecondensationtauntedmefromitspuddleonthecoffeetable.Mygreetingcardgotalittlewet.Ithinkatthispointit’dbebettertobuyheranewonewheneverIfindher. “So,tothepoint,”Iinterjected,beforehecouldtellmeanotherfragmentofastory,“youdon’tknowwhereMs.Cuthbertwent,right?” “Istoppedstalkingheratleasttwentyyearsago,boy.Didn’tgetmenowhere.ThoughifIknewwhereshewasrightnow,Iwouldn’tbedrinkingfuckingsandandtalkingtoamouth-breather,”hebarked,suddenlyflop-pingdownintotheignoredLa-Z-Boy.“Sowhatnow?Justheretotauntmeintorememberingandrunningoffwithoutlettingmewhineatyou?Orareyougonnatalksome?” IfoughttheurgetojusttellhimIwastheretotaunthim,andleave.Itwastempting,butIthinkIwasmoretakenabackbyhissudden

Folio 2010

�3

emotionthananything.Icouldseethegriponhiscanewastighter,shakierthanwhenIwalkedin.Ithinkhewasactuallystartingtosweatnowtoo. “IfigureI’djustletyouwhinesomemore,ifIfindMs.Cuthbert,I’llletherknowyoucarethough,”Isaid,smiling.Hetightenedthegriponhiscane.Itfelttoorudetoleave,butmessingwithhimseemedlikeitcouldhelpmegetaneasierexit.Besides,Iowedhimalittlemoreattentionforgivingmewater,atminimum.Iactuallydreadedthethoughtofgettingbackintomycartoleaveatthispoint.WhydidIbuyleatherseats?Asmythoughtstrailedoff,Inoticedtheoldmangetstrangelycalm. “I’msureshe’saware,”hestatedplainly.“Itwasn’tallonesided,youknow.Lisahadhertimeschasingafterme.Iwasjusttoobusybeingfarfarawayatthetime.Funnythingis,IwasusuallyfarawaycauseIwasrunningawayfromher.”Hechuckledandwheezed,restinghiscaneonthetableinfrontofhim.“TherewasoneoccasionwhereIhadtakenhertoacharityorsomething,asafavor,Iguess.Iwasseeingsomeoneelseatthetime,andLisagotprettysmashed.Shespenthalfthenighttryingtotellmemyfiancewasnogoodforme,andthatIdeservedbetter.Iwastoomuchofagentle-mantopayanymind.Fuckingstupid.” Ididn’treallybelievehim,buttherewassomethingaboutthewayhestaredidlyatthetablewhilehetalked,handsfoldedoverthelapoftoo-tightkhakislacks.Iopenedthecakebox,andgesturedatitwiththeprepackagedplasticknife.Hedenieditwithatimidhandwave.Afterwhatseemedlikeaminuteofwatchingthemomentgrowstale,IdecidedIshouldsaysomething. “So,youmentionedtherewasadecadeorsowhereshewouldn’teventalktoyou.Um,what’dyoudo?” “That’spresumptuous.” “Well.” “Nah,it’salright.Justlikebefore,Iwastryingtogetawayfromher,andshesuddenlydecidedtonotbeabitchforonce.Ididn’tevenknowshewasintown.Itwasspring,warm,thesnowwasmeltingjustabitandthestreetssmelledlikesewagebecauseofit.Iwasinthelocalpub,beingabrat,

Knox

Folio 2010

�4

andyellingupastormabouthowIdidn’tneedher.Moreprecisely,abouthowIwantedkids,soIshouldn’tevenpayheranymind.” Icringed,apparentlyvisibly.Hestoppedhisstorytogivemeasym-patheticnod. “Thatwoulddoit.Sohowdidyougetintouchwithhersincethen?” “Iwaitedayearortwo.Triedtofindoutwhereshemovedto.Wrotebutneversentapologies.Untiloneday,abouttwentyyearslater,bychance,wewereworkingatthesameschool.Wehadaprofessionalrelation-shipfromthenon.” ItookitfromhislonggazeintothedistancethatIshouldn’tbringupthatIneverheardofhimbefore.Imean,Imightof,butneverinanywaymoreinterestingthananamewithoutaface.ImighthavementionedthatIwaskindofbored,andonlymorbidlycurioustohavehimgoon.Imighthavetoldhimstoriesaboutmymother,andhowwecametoseparate,andwhyIcalledherbyhername.Imighthave.ButIdidn’t.

Folio 2010

�5

Rob ScucciWhat Would Jack Kerouac Do?

Thispoemisshit.I’mreachingtoofaronceagain.Anotherclusterofmundanemetaphors.I’llhidemyselfbehindtropesandallusions,ahalf-bakedversionofmyself.I’mapussy,concealedbehindfalsediction.Thoughtsareseldomimportantandoftenpremeditated.Ican’tthinkonmyfeet,onlyonpaperwithfancyfivedollarwords.Afictionalmelodywithafamiliarhook.

Thetaleofthetorturedsoulcomplex.“Woeisme,”andsuch.Doyoubelieveanyofthis?Isurehopeyoudon’t.

Unrequitedloveisforsuckerswholackpersistence.Keepdreaming,youjerk-offs.Clichésexistforareason.“Niceguysjustplainneverfinish.”They’retoobusybeingpushovers.I’mapushover.I’mapoet.

Scucci

Folio 2010

�6

Iventagainstallconventions;abittertwenty-somethingwhoprobablydrinkstoomuch.Iprobablysmoketoomuchpot.Let’sgetabstract,man.Gotomars,dude.Ijustquitsmokingcigarettes,I’mtiredoflookingcool.Youmightcallthis“inspired,”butIcallitpathetic.I’mpathetic.I’mapoet.

I’msureIhaveexcitingproseinventions.Aboutinaneeventsthatyouhavenocarefor.Luckilyforme,floweredlanguagecanmakethemundanesoundlikesuchwonderfulbullshit.Thesewordsarefromnowherespecial.Theymeannothingtome.Mysenseofselfwillneverbreakpasttheconventionsoffiction.Alwaysonestepbehindmyideal,I’llneverbegoodenough.

Ihopeyouhatethispoem.I’llbegladsolongasIneverinspireyou.Findyourownway.Stopdependingontheadviceofothers.Fuckingvultures.Nobodybecomesanybody.Weallrotinthesameground.It’sallahungrywormconspiracy.

Folio 2010

�7

Ican’tmakemyselfnumbanymore,butIcanpretend.Icanpretend.Graphitegivesmesolace.Ihopeitgivesyounothing.Ihopethesewordsneverlast,tornoutofwhateverpaperback.Anewtissueforoldpoets.I’mapoet.Thisismyart,andIcan’tgetovermyself.

Scucci

Folio 2010

��

Michael BonaldoMemorial Day

JackreturnedfromthePort-O-PottyandsatnexttoAbbyonthetailgateoftheirTrailblazerwithoutsayingaword.He’dopenedthetail-gatesotheycouldwatchtheparadefromtheshade,andAbby’sfairskinwouldn’tburn.ThoughthebackofJack’strunkwasn’tparticularlycomfort-ableitwasbetterthandealingwithasunburnedwifeforthenextweek.Thecrowdwasbeginningtogatherandpeoplewhohadn’tseenoneanotherforawhilesaidtheirusualhellosandengagedinmindlesschit-chat.Jacklookedintothesmallcrowdofaroundahundredandrecognizedalmosthalfthepeoplethere.TheGreens,whosedaughterhadgonetohighschoolwithJack,weretalkingtotheSmiths,wholivednextdoortoJackandAbby.TheFitzgeralds,whoownedthelocalgarage,satinfoldoutchairstwosizestoosmallfortheiroversizedbodiesandheldaconversationwiththeiryoungestdaughter. LittleoldladiesdressedintheirSundaybeststrolleddowntheroadwiththeirhusbands,sellingpoppiestohelpraisemoneyforthelocalVFW.Jackreachedintothebackpocketofhiscutoffcargopantsandpulledouthiswornwallet.Hegrabbedacrispfivedollarbill.Hewouldrefusetotakeapoppy.He’dmuchratherjustgivethemoneythantaketheworthlesspieceofmetalwireandcray-paper.“Youdon’thavetogivethemafiveyouknow,”AbbysaidtoJack. “Iknow,”Jackreplied,“butit’sgoingtoagoodcause.” EversinceJackhadgottenbackfromIraq,notmuchmatteredtohim,notevenmoney.Jackfoldedhiswalletbackup,leanedforward,andputitintotherearpocketofhisshorts,whereitfitsoperfectly.Helookedtohisright,hopingthattheparadewouldstartatanyminute.HeandAbbyhadbeencampedoutintheparkinglotoftheoldfirehouseforthepasthalfhourandhewasgettingrestless.Helookedtohisleftandsawtheswarmofpeoplemigratingtothenearlyfulllot.Poorbastards,hethoughttohimself,they’llhavetostandfortheentireparade.Thoughhewashappythathewasabletohaveasomewhatcomfortableseatfortheparade,Jackwishedhe

Folio 2010

�9

couldbeoneofthem.Hewishedhecouldbeoneofthosepeoplewhoshowedupjustinthenickoftimeandnotforty-fiveminutesearly.TheMarineCorpshaddistortedhissenseofbeingontime.Ifyourtenminutesearly,you’refiveminuteslatetheyalwayssaid.JackhadalwaysgottenpissedwhenAbbywouldtakeanhourandahalftogetready.Howcouldittakeanyonethatlongtogetready?Hecouldbereadyinfiveminutesifhehadtobe.Hisheartbegantorace.Hiseyesdartedbackandforth.Hecouldn’tconcentrateonanyoneparticularthingformorethanafewseconds. “Youallright?”Abbyasked. “Yeah,I’mfine,”Jackreplied. “Youlooklikeyouwanttobesomewhereelse.” “I’mjustreadytogetthisparadestarted.There’satonofstufftodoathomebeforetheparty.”JackandAbbydecidedthatsinceJackwasnowacombatveteranitwouldbeappropriatetohaveaMemorialDaypicnic.Theyneededtogethomeimmediatelyaftertheparadetostartsettingup.Therewasmacaronisaladtomake,zititobake,fruittoslice,andJackhadtogetthegrillstartedandmakehisspecialcocktail.Twopartsvodka,onepartlightbeerandacouplepacketsofCrystalLitepinklemonade.Jackrefusedtotellanyonewhatwasinitbeforetheydrankitbecauseheknewtheywouldnevertryitifhedid.Butoncetheytriedittheywerehooked.Jackwouldn’tbedrinkinganyofhiscocktailtoday.HehadgoneoutandgottenakegofSamSummerforthisoccasion. Jackheardthewhiningsirensofafiretruckandknewtheparadewasheadinghisway.Theparadeproceededlikeanyotherparadeinanyothertowninanyotherstatethroughoutthecountry.Thelocalfiredepart-ment,ledbyAbby’suncleWarren,whowasdressedinhisover-starchedblueandwhiteuniform,crestedthehillandbegantheirdescenttowardsanewsetoffamilies,includingJackandAbby,thathadnowgrowntoafewhundredpeople.TheprocessionoffiretruckshadallmadetheirwayoverthehillandpastthePresbyterianChurchwhenthelocalmiddleschool’smarchingbandappeared.Thepre-teenmusiciansplayedthe“StarSpangledBanner”,“TheMarineCorpsHymn”,andseveralothersthatJackknewthetunesofbutwasn’tsurewhatthenameswere.

Bonaldo

Folio 2010

90

Asthebandpassedhefelttherumblingofattackhelicoptersthatnodoubthadflownovermultipleotherparadesthatmorning.Helookeduptowardsthecrispblueskythatwaspartlyscatteredwithperfectlyformedcumulusclouds.Hescannedtheskyfromleftandright,tryingtofigureoutwhichdirectiontheywerecomingfrom.Beforehecould,hesawthemcomingdi-rectlydownthepathoftheparadeandinstantlyheknewtheywereCobras.ThesamekindthathadsupportedhismissioninFallujah.Jackclosedhiseyesandsattheresilently,thedistinctthump,thump,thumpingofthero-torbladesreverberatedthroughhistruckandhislegsbegantotremblewiththevibration.ExplosionsinthenotsofardistanceshookthesurroundingbuildingsasbitsoflooseconcretefellfromaboveandlandedonhisKevlarhelmet.Theacridsmelloffreshlyburntfleshstunghisnostrils.ThesoundsgrewinintensityasthejetspasseddirectlyoverhisheadandJackcouldfeelatinglingrunningthroughouthisbody.Theordersofhissquadleadertellinghimtogetdownechoedthroughhisears;therewasa500poundbombabouttobedetonatedafewblocksfromhisposition.Allatoncethevibrationended,thejetpassed,andthebandfadedintothedistance.Eeriesilence,thesamesilenceJackhadexperiencedafterafirefight.Asilencesoquietthatthevoicesinhisheadsoundedlikeshouts.Heopenedhiseyesandreleasedhisvicelikegripfromthebumper.Jackpretendedtoglancearoundcalmly,thoughifanybodycouldseehisdilatedpupilstheywouldsurelyknowthathewasanythingbutcalm.Heknewhecouldn’tbeherenow.“I’llberightback.Igottagotothebathroom,”JacksaidtoAbby. “Ok,”shereplied. JackhoppedoutofhistruckandweavedhiswaythroughthecrowdtowardthePort-O-Potty.Hegotabouthalfwaythereandlookedoverhisshouldertoseeifanybodywaswatchinghim,andwhenhewassuretheyweren’t,hemadeahardrightandwalkedtothebackoftheabandonedfirehouse.Hepickeduphispace,eachstridelongerthanthenext,hopingthatnoonewouldcatchhim.Hereachedthemiddleofthelongbrickwall,satonthegroundfacingthemotionlessforestfifteenfeetaway,restedhiselbowsonhiskneesandplacedhisforeheadinhishands. wasthefirsttimeJackhadexperiencedanythingthisintensesince

Folio 2010

91

hisreturn.HehadmovedbacktoConnecticutwithhiswifewhohadalreadyrentedoneofthefewapartmentsintheirrusticNewEnglandtown,andliferesumedasithadbeforeheleft.Hehadstartedschoolinthespring,andasfarasJackcouldtell,everythingwasnormal.HehadmetwithacounselorattheVAandaftera45minutequestionandanswerperioditwasdeterminedthatJackdidn’thavePTSD,andthatthefeelingshedidhavewerenormalforwarvets.Hetoldhimselfthattodaytoowasnormal.ThatitwasnormaltohavetriggersthatremindedhimofbeingIraq.Hejusthadn’tbeensurewhattheywereyet,orhowbadhewouldreactwhenhewasreminded,butnowheknewatleastone. JackreachedintohispocketandpulledoutanunopenedtinofCopenhagen.Hedughisnailintothesideandsliditaroundtheedgetobreaktheseal.Jacksnappedthetinbetweenhisfingers,openedthelidandpinchedthefineblackgranulesbetweenhisthumbandforefinger.Heplaceditintohislipandsatthere.Jackcouldinstantlyfeelhisbodystarttorelaxasthenicotinewoveitswaythroughhisveins.Hesatthereforafewminutes,decompressing,knowingthatifhetookanylongerAbbywouldgetsuspiciousthathereallyhadn’tgonetothebathroom.Jackstoodup,spithisCopeout,andbeganwalkbacktothecrowdedmassofpeoplewearingred,whiteandblue.Ashearrivedbackathistruck,Abby’sfather,whowasstandingbesideAbbyasked,“Whenareyougoingtorideintheparade?” “Maybenextyear.”Jackhadbeenaskedthisquestionbyafewpeo-plewhentheyfoundouthewasn’t.Everytimehewasasked,herespondedwiththesamestockanswer,thoughhehadnointentionofeverridingintheMemorialDayparade,oranyotherparadeforthatmatter.Jackdidn’tfeelrightridingintheparade. “Comesitdown,”AbbysaidtoJack.JackwalkedovertothebackofhistruckandtookhisseatnexttoAbby.Helookedatherandsawthefake,forcedsmilethathehadbeenaccustomedto.Shehadknownthathehadn’tgonetothebathroom,buthecouldtellthatshedidn’twanttodiscussit,atleastnotatthismoment.“Perfectdayforaparadeandpicnic,huh.Wesureluckedout.” “Iknow,right,”Jacksaid.“Ijustcan’twaittogetthepartystarted.”

Bonaldo

Folio 2010

92

Jackknewthatoncehispartystartedandpeoplewerehavingagoodtimehewouldn’thavetothinkaboutIraqforawhile. “You’renotgonnadrinktoomuchareyou?”Abbyasked. “Me?Drinktoomuch?Ofcoursenot.”JackandAbbysatnexttoeachotherforthenexthalfhourinacomfortablesilence.Hesattherewatchingalltheveteranspassintheirconvertiblesthinkingtohimselfhowluckyhewasthathedidn’thavetofightinanyoftheirwars.TheWWII,VietnamandKoreavetsweretherealheroestoJack.Theyweretheoneswhohadfacednonstopfightingformonthsonend.Theyweretheoneswhohadwatchedhalfoftheirplatoonsgetkilled.Theyweretheoneswhohadcomehomejusttobecalled“BabyKillers.”AllJackhadtodowasre-allyonlyonemonthoffighting.Hehadneverwitnessedanyofhisfriendsgetkilled,thoughhehadseenafewoftheirdeadbodies.Hecamehometoparadesandopenarms.Jackwasjusthappythathewasalivetothrowapartyinhonorofallthosewhocouldn’tbethere.Theparadewounddownwhenthelaststatetrooperdrovehiscruiserupthehilltothecommunityschoolandthepeopleinthecrowdgathereduptheirbelongingsandheadedhome. “Ready?”Abbyasked “Yep.”Jackopenedthedriver’sdoor,jumpedin,andturnedtheignition. Jackwalkedintothekitchen,pasttheoverfullgrocerybagandstraightintohisbedroom.Heneededtochangeoutofhisparadegarbintohispartyoutfit.Hewalkedovertohisdresserandopeneduphisshirtdrawerandpulledouthisfavorite.Theshirtwasdrabolivegreenwithhisunitlogoonthefrontleftchestandabloodywarriorholdingadoublesidedaxeontheback,abovethephrase:“Peoplespendanentirelifetimewonderingiftheymadeadifferenceintheworld.Marinesdon’thavethatproblem.”Heknewthebloodywarriorwasn’treallyappropriate,buthedidn’tcare.Itwasthephrasethatmatteredmosttohim.

Folio 2010

93

JackwalkedbackintothekitchentohelpAbbyunpackthegrocer-iesandsawhisMother-in-Law,Janet. “Hisweetie,”Janetsaidwithherusualsmile. “Hey.Ididn’tevenhearyoucomein,”Jacksaidashekissedheronthecheek.HewalkedovertothetableandhelpedAbbyandhermotherun-packthegroceries.Abbyhadinsistedongoingalloutfortheparty.Forher,thatmeantthattherewouldn’tbeyournormalpicnicfood.Therewouldbemacaronisaladofcourse,buthermacaronisaladcamefromsomefancyrecipefromtheFoodNetworkandconsistedoffoodsJackhadneverheardofbefore. “Jack,onceyou’redoneunpackingIneedyoutostartsomewaterboilingforthemacaronisalad,thenIneedyouto…” “Woah,”Jackinterrupted.“Ihavestufftodotooyaknow.” “Yeah,butthisstuffneedstobedonenow.”Whyisherstuffsomuchmoreimportantthanmine,hethought.Buthedidn’twanttostartanargumentthisearlyintheafternoon,sohekepthismouthshut.JackandAbbyweren’tacouplethatarguedalot,butsincehisreturnfromIraq,hefeltlikeshewouldnaghimabouteverylittlethinghedid,ordidn’tdo.Heknewthatshewouldprobablybeonhiscaselaterforonethingoranother.Hemightaswellsavehimselfalittlebitoftroubleifhecould.Hereluctantlygrabbedapotfromunderthecounter,filleditupwithwaterandcontinuedfollowingAbby’sordersuntilthefirstguestsarrived “Igottagetthegrillstarted.Peoplewillbeshowingupsoonandthey’regoingtobehungry,”Jacksaid. “Whataboutalltherestofthefoodinhere?”Abbyasked. “Listen,it’snotmyfaultyouchosetodoallthefancyrecipes.Itwouldn’thavetakensodamnlongtomakeifyoujustrealizedthatpeoplewouldbehappywithhotdogs,hamburgersandsomeothernormalfood,notallyourfancyshit.”Hegrabbedapintglassoutofthecabinet,turnedhisbackandbeganhiswalkoutside.Jackwalkedthroughthelivingroomandtowardthesmallsectionoffencedinyardthat,althoughitwasforeverybodyintheapartmenttouse,nobodybutJackandAbbyeverdid.He

Bonaldo

Folio 2010

94

openedhislittleshedthatcontainedallhisoutdoorequipment,grabbedabagofcharcoal,alighterandthetapforhiskeg. Bymid-afternoonthepartywaswellunderway.Peoplewereenjoy-ingthemselves,catchingupwithfriendstheyhadn’tseeninawhile,playingboccewhiledebatingwhoseballwasclosertothepoleen.Jackmannedthegrillwithhisconstantlyfullglassofbeer,talkingtoLarry,hisbrother-in-lawaboutthenewtattoothathewantedtoget.“I’vebeenthinkingofexpand-ingthetattooonmyleg.Makeitafulllegsleeve.AllMarineCorpsstuff,whadyathink?”LarrywasacopnearthelocalcasinoandafewyearsolderthanJack.Hewasalsoabitofaredneck,soJackfiguredafulllegtattoowouldbecooltohim. “Thatwouldbesweet.I’vebeenthinkingofgettinganewonemy-self.”Larryturnedaroundandpointedtoaspotonhisleftshoulderblade.“Somethinglikeashieldandallthenamesofmybuddieswhodiedwhileonduty.” “Howmany?”Jackasked. “Oh…Probablynotasmanyasyou…four.” “That’smorethanme.OnlythreepeopleIreallyknewdied.Iknewabunchmorethatdied,butonlyknew‘emalittlebit.” “Yeah,butyoustillknewthem.” “True,butit’sdifferent.Youknow.It’slikeifacopfromanearbytowndied.Youprobablymethimafewtimes,butyoureallydidn’tknowhim.” “Yeah,you’reright.”Larrytookaswigofbeerandafteranawkwardsilenceasked“Howyoudoingtoday?Itmustbetough” “I’mdoingallright.”Jackturnedaroundandflippedoveracoupleofburgersthatdidn’tneedflippingandthrewacoupleofmorehotdogsonthegrill. Asthesunwasbeginningtosetmostoftheolderguestshadleft,andJackwasrefillinghisglasswhenAbby’sunclestoodup.Warren,whohadhadafewtoomanybeers,wasoneofthoseguyswhoalwaysneverknewwhentokeephismouthshut.Hewouldalwaysmakeinappropriatecommentsatinappropriatetimes.

Folio 2010

95

“Everybody…Everybodylistenup…Ijustwanttotakeaminuteandremindeverybodywhyweareheretoday.So…here’satoasttoJack.Wecouldn’tbemoreproudofyouforallthatyou’vedone,andwearesohappythatyouarehomesafeandsound.”Warrenraisedhisglassandslammedbacktherestofhisdrink.Everybodyelseraisedtheirglasses,tookasipandclapped.Jackraisedhisglassandswallowedeverylastdrophehadjustpoured.Hewasneveronetolikeattentionespeciallythisday.Jackdidn’tthinkthisdaywasforhim.Itwasforalltheveteranswhodiedwhileserv-ing.IfpeoplewantedtopraisehimonVeteransDaythenfine,hewouldacceptitandmoveongracefully.Buttodaywasadaytorememberthefallen.AndforJackitwasadaytorememberMorgan,BrianandByron,hisfriendswhohaddied.Allofasuddenthefeelingsthathadbeensuppressedbynearlyagallonofbeercameswellingupthroughhisbody.Itstartedinhislegswithaslightweakeningoftheknees,keptmovingupwardsthroughhischestandrightintohiseyeswherehispainalwaysseemedtoescape. Jackpouredhimselfanotherandwalkedintohisapartmentandstraightintohisbedroom.Hesatontheedgeofhisbed,flippedopenhisphoneandpulleduphiscontactlist.Thereitwas.Leon.LeonandJackhadbecomefriendsduringtheirfirstdeployment.Theyweren’tinthesamecompany,butwhiletheywereonshiptogethertheybecamebondedthroughacommonloveforpoker.TheywouldspendFridaynightthroughSundaymorningplaying,onlygettingawaytoeatandusethebathroom. WhileinIraqJackandLeondidn’tseeeachotheroften,3or4daysiftheywerelucky.Butiftheycouldvisiteachother,theydid.Theypassedtimebyplayingpoker,talkingaboutwhattheywoulddowhentheygotbackstatesideandevenoccasionallydrinkingsomebootlegwhiskeythattheyhadsmuggledbackintotheirbattalionbase. Jackhitsendonhisphoneandthelineontheotherendbegantoring.Eachtimethephonerang,Jackgotmoreandmoreanxious.“Hello.”Leonfinallyanswered. “Hey,it’sJack.” “Ohman,what’sgoingon?”Leonasked.Leonhadadistinctive

Bonaldo

Folio 2010

96

southerndrawlthatwasevenmoreprominentnowthathehadbeensta-tionedinLouisianaaboutamonthago. “Nothin.IjustcalledtosayhappyMemorialDay.”JackthoughtitwasoddtosayhappyMemorialDaywhenitmadehimsosad. “Youtoo.Whatareyouuptotoday?” “I’mhavingalittleparty,whataboutyou?”“Nothingmuch,gettingsettledindownhere.” “Howhaveyoubeen?”Jackasked,hopingheknewwhathemeant. “I’mdoingprettywell.Today’stough.IkeepthinkingaboutBrianandByron.” “Iknow.IkeepthinkingaboutMorgan.Especiallytoday.”MorganStraderandJackhadbeeninthesamesquadbuthadgottenseparatedwhentheywereambushedinFallujah.Jackhadendedupseveralbuildingsawayandcouldn’thelphimwhenhewasshotinthehead.“Everybodywantstosaythankstomeandallthatshit.That’sallfine,buttheydon’trealizewhatthisdaymeanstous.It’stoughseeingeverybodyhavingagoodtimeandwhatnotwhenallIcanreallythinkaboutisIraqandallthememoriesitbringswithit.”Jackcouldfeelhimselfstartingtobreakdown.Hetriedtoholditbackbutknewinsidethatthatwasthereasonhecalled.“Allthesepeople,andnobodyevenknowswhattodayisfor.Ijustwish…”hisvoicetrailedoffintosilence.Hetriedtotakeadeepbreath,buthisnosewascloggedandhehadtobreathethroughhismouth.“Allthesefuckingpeople…”onceagainhisvoicewentsilent.Tearsstartedtoflowdownhisunshavenface.Jackrestedthephoneonthebedashisneckwentlimpandhisheadfellforward. Severalsecondspassed.“JACK,”Leonyelledintothephone. “Yeah,sorry.I’mhere.It’sjusttoughman,youknow.”Jackdidn’tknowwhatelsetosay. “Iknow.Ithinkaboutthoseguysallthetime,”Leonsaid.Jackwipedthetearsfromhisfaceandtriedtocomposehimselfbeforehebegantospeakagain. “Oh,man.Sorryaboutthat,I’vehadafewtoday.”Jackfeltembar-rassedandbetterallatthesametime.

Folio 2010

97

“Noworriesman.Sometimesshitgetstometoo.” “Allright.Well…listen.Igottagetbacktomyparty.I’llcallyouinafewdaysthough.Alright?” “Yeah.Definitely,”Leonsaid.“Later.” “Laterman.”Jackturnedhisphoneoff,stoodup,andputitbackintohispocket.Hestrolledovertothebathroomtocomposehimself.Hewantedtomakesurenobodyknewhewascrying.Hestoodatthesinkforafewminutes,andwashedhisface.Everytimehelookedintothemirrorhesawhisdeadfriends.HeimaginedMorgan’sbodylayinginapoolofbloodonarooftopwithasingle,smallholeinhisforehead.HerememberedBy-rons’bodylayingfacedownjustoutsideofadoorwayinthe“HellHouse”ofFallujah.Asinglebullettotheheadalsodidhimin,justlikeithaddonetoMorgan.Helookedintothemirroronelasttimeandsawhisownface.Hemouthedthewords“Imissyou,”intoit,driedhisfaceandleftthebath-room. Hewalkedoutside,backintohisparty,andranintoAbby.Shewasthelastpersonhewantedtosee.NomatterhowwellhethoughthehadcomposedhimselfAbbyalwayshadaknackforknowingwhensomethingwasbotheringhim.“Hey,”Jacksaid. “Everythingallright?Youwereinsideforawhile,”Abbyaskedinanunexpectedlypleasantvoice. “Yeah,Leoncalled.HewantedtosayhappyMemorialDay.” “How’shedoing?” “He’sdoingwell.Whereareyougoing?”Jackquestioned. “Weneedmorecups.Doyouknowwherethereareanymore?” “Inthecupboardabovethesink.” “Ok.Thanks.”Abbyturnedaroundandheadedinside.JackwonderedwhyAbbydidn’tsayanythingtohimaboutthewayhelooked.Maybeshe’sjustreallycaughtuptryingtomakesureeveryoneishappy,hethought.Jackcontinuedhismarchbacktothegrill.Therewerestillafewburgersleft. AstheendofthenightcameonlyafewofJack’sbuddiesfromschoolwerearound.Hisschoolhadquiteafewveterans,andaloungethat

Bonaldo

Folio 2010

9�

wasonlyforthevets.Jackhadbecomegoodfriendswithafew.Theysataroundafireoneofthemhadbuilt,one-uppingeachotherwithstoriesaboutIraqorAfghanistan.JackbrokeintotheconversationwithastoryaboutFallujah.“Mysquadgotcalledtoassistanothersquadfrommycompanythathadgottenambushedandhadgottentrappedinside.Wehadtosupportthemandfightourwaythroughthebuilding.IthinktherewassomethingliketenPurpleHeartsandtwoNavyCrossesawardedfromthatfirefight.TwoNavyCrosses!That’showbaditwas.Oneguydiedandtwomorealmostdied.Ifthetwothatalmostdieddiddie,theyprobablywouldhavegottentheMedalofHonor.That’showfuckingbaditwas.”Jackdidn’twanttotelltheothersthatthatwasalsothehousewhereByronwaskilledandthathehelpeddraghislifelessbodyoutthefrontdoor. Behindthem,Abbyquietlycleaneduptheemptycupsandplatesofhalfeatenfood.Shefoldeduptheunusedchairsandwentbackinsidewhereshewasmostlikelyabouttocleanthekitchen.Eachstorytheguystoldkeptgettinglouderandlouderwitheachbeerthattheydrank. Aroundoneinthemorningthelastofthecrewleft.Jackwalkedbackinsideaftertheusual“gethomesafe”speechandpeeredintothebedroomtoseeAbbyclutchingherpillowsoundasleepintheirbed.TheoutsidelightshonethroughthewindowandJackcouldseetheblanketswrappedtightlyaroundherbodylikeacocoon.Hestoodthereformo-ment,restinghisheadagainstthedoorframeandwonderedwhatshewasdreamingabout. Hewalkedintotheyardandpouredhimselfanotherbeer.Heliftedthekegfromtheicetogaugehowmuchwasleft.Only4or5left,hethought,Icanfinishthisbeforethenightisdone. Jackwalkedbacktohischairandslumpeddowninit.Heem-bracedtheheatradiatingfromthefireandenjoyedwatchingtheembersfly-ingupwardstowardthestarrysky;itremindedhimofthenightjustbeforehewentintoFallujah.Thatnighthehadbeensittinginafoxholejustnorthofthecity.Heandtherestofhisbattalionsatandwatchedasplanes,heli-copters,andartillerydroppedsomuchammunitiontheywonderediftherewasgoingtobeanythingleftforthemthenextmorning.Theywatchedas

Folio 2010

99

whitephosphorousilluminatedtheskyandraineddownoninsurgents.Theywatchedasbuildingsandcarswereblownup,andlistenedsotheycouldhearthedestructionseveralsecondsafterithappened.Hedrapedhisarmoverthesideofhischairandsatthere,minddriftingbetweentwoworlds.Hethoughtofthemorningheenteredthecity.Howtheearlymorningsunhadn’tyetburnedoffthefog.Howwhenheexitedthebackofhisarmoredvehicleitallseemedlikeitwasn’treal.HowtheAK-47andM-16roundscrackinginsporadicvolleysafewblocksawayseemedtoofarawaytoohurthim.Hestoodupandshookhisheadtoclearhisthoughts,asifhecouldjustshakeawaythememories,andwalkedovertothegateinthewhitefencethatledtotherestofthecommunalbackyard.Jackwalkedalongthestonewallthatbarricadedtheyardfromtheroad.Hefollowedthewallasitturnedleftattheedgeoftheproperty.Thewallcontinueduntilitranintothetreeline,wherethebackyardendedandthewoodsbegan.Jackfollowedthetreelinebehindthehouse,hishandsinhispocketsfidgetingwithhiskeys.Hewalkedaroundthehouseandintothegravelparkinglot,continuingbackaroundthehouse,pastthegrillthatearlierhadbeenthecenterofattention,butnowaswasleftopenandunused,onlytoendupatthefire.Bynowtheflameshaddieddown,buttheemberswerestillredhot,evenhotterthanbefore.Hechuggedhisbeerandpouredhimselfanother.Againhesatbackdowninhischair. Jackflippedhisphoneopenandpulledupthecalllog.Thelastcall:6:38–LeonSheely.Hesattherethinkingabouthowgooditfelttotalktosomeone,notthattheyhadmuchofaconversation.WhydoIalwaysdothistomyself?hequestioned.Jackwashalfwaythroughhisbeerwhenheheardthescreendooropen.Heclosedhisphoneandputitbackintohispocketwhileheusedtothesleeveofhissweatshirttorubthewetnessoutofhiseyes.Hedidn’twantAbbytoseehimlikethis.“Jack,”Abbywhispered. “Yeah,”Jacksaidback. “It’salmosttwoo’clock.Whatareyoudoing?” “Nothing.Justsittinghere.”Heheardthedoorclose.Abbywasonherwayover.Shewalkedupbesidehim,grabbedachairandpulleditclose

Bonaldo

Folio 2010

100

tohis.Shesattherebesidehimandrubbedhisback,justlikeamotherwoulddotoachild. “What’sthematter?”sheasked. “Nothing,why?” “Becauseyou’vebeenouthereforoveranhour.” “SoIguessyouweren’tsleeping?”Jackasked.Hedidn’twanttolookather. “Wellit’skindahardwithyouandallyourbuddiespracticallyscreamingatthetopofyourlungs.”Jackhadn’trealizedhowloudtheyhadbeen.ButthenagainAbbywasalightsleeperanyways.ThenAbby’stonechanged.“Whydon’tyouevertellmethestoriesyoutellyourbuddies?” JacklookedupatAbby.Heturnedhisbodysoherarmcouldnolongerreachhisback,tookadeepbreathandsaid,“Becauseyouneverasked.” Abbysatthereforabriefmoment,silent.“Well.I’maskingnow,”Abbysaid.“Iwantyoutobeabletotellmewhateveryouwantto.” “Noyoudon’t.Youdon’treallywanttoknowwhathappenedoverthere.” “Yes.Ido.Iwanttohearthesethings,”Abbyreplied. “Icanseeitinyoureyes.Youdon’treallywanttoknow.” “Ijustwantyoutobeokay,that’sall.” “Youwantmetobeokay?SoI’mnotokaynow?HowamInotokay?” “I…Idon’tknow.Ijustdon’tthinkthatanybodycanbeokayoncethey’vebeenoverthere.” “I’mfine.I’mthesamepersonthatIwasbeforeIleft,Ijustneedalittletimetoreadjusttobeingbackinthestates.That’sall.” “Ijustthinkthatyouneedsomebodytotalkto.Youhaveallthesefeelingsandalltheseemotionsboilingupinsideyou.It’snothealthyJack.” “WhoamIgoingtotalkto?NobodyhereunderstandstheshitIwentthrough.” “TherearepeopleattheVA.They’retrainedtohelpyouthere.”

Folio 2010

101

“I’vebeentotheVA.Itdidn’thelp.ThosepeoplehaveneverbeenthroughwhatIhave.Allthey’regonnagivemeissomepsychoanalyticbullshit.Howdotheyknowwhatit’sliketogetshotat?Howdotheyknowwhatit’sliketohaveyourfrienddie,andyoucan’tthinkaboutitrightthen? Jackplacedhisheadinhishandsandtookadeepbreath.WhenhelookedbackupatAbby,tearswereflowingfreelydownhisface.Abbybentforwardandwrappedherarmstightlyaroundhim “We’llgetthroughthis.We’lldowhateverittakes.”

Bonaldo

Folio 2010

102

John DenverReverend Nathan Zillionaire

ReverendNathanZillionaire Bulthuis NathanBulthuis NathanZillionaireNathanZillionaireBulthuisDavidNathanielBulthuisNathanZillionaireBulthuisChineseTrigonometryTeacherDowntownChicagoClarkandBelmontScitzo-Effective10MillionDollarsCashFromGeicoElmhurstIllinoisHillsideIllinoisSSISSDIMedicareNPNehemiahPsalmsNPNativePrideNPNewPlantsScitzo-EffectivenathanbelieverburgundyNathanZillionaireMeditationArtistChristianReverendProfessionalMusicianHeavenPromoterCrowCrowCrowZillionaireBooksMinisterZillionaireChristianityHeavenSSISSDIMedicareChineseTrigonometryTeacherJesusChrist391726761550793917TrillionYearsFromNow.

Folio 2010

103

Denver

Folio Staff, Denver, CO 2010(Left to Right: Mike DeSanti, Heather Frodsham, Paul Johnson,

Jared Emerling, Peter Cunningham, Andrzej Dutkanicz)

*A Note on John Denver*The author of the poem on the opposing page is named John Denver (no

relation to the late singer). Though largely ignored by the literary mainstream, Denver’s impact on American poetry is impossible to overstate. Born in 1900,

he is the author of over seventy books of poetry and a dozen novels, and he has directly inflenced writers as diverse as Charles Bukowski and Toni

Morrison. The staff would like to thank Mr. Denver for submitting his poem “The Reverend Nathan Zillionaire,” (from his chapbook, Gumballs!) for

publication. It is our honor to include it in this volume of Folio.

Folio 2010

104

Special Thanks

WETHESTAFFWOULDLIKETOTHANK... JeffMock,TimParrish,RobinTroy,VivianShipley,TomDorr,JoshGister,JerryDunklee,JeffreyVoccola,GreyJacobik,JohnCavaliere,IllianneCoronafromtheStudentCenter,BriannaMarron,BobandGayleEmer-lingfortherides,coffees,andmunchkins,DanSharoh,TheCoenBrothers,AdamatPourHouse,ThatguyPeteconfusedintogivinguphisdouble-breastedjacket,TheColoradoSymphonyOrchestraforbringingtheNewWorldtolife,MayorBigBlueBear,JackGilbert,BarBar,Sci-FiBurlesqueatBender’s,AdamNesteruk,WillShortzandtheNYTCrossword,MexicanFood(therestaurant,notthegenre),LorettaLynn,GhostandNimbus,EveryoneattheCaptain’sHouse,CalvinFrodsham,PizzaontheEastCoast,JulesBakesandElliotPepMcGuillicuddyMurderfaceMurderfaceMurder-faceFutureCar,BigWheelMatt,CharlesEverett“TheVirginiaWoolfman”Taylor,EveryonewhoreadatthemonthlyFolioevents(youknowwhoyouare),GayEnya,Shaw’s,KyleTegler,Mr.andMrs.StephenJohnson,OhHell,AllofOurParents,MagicalRealismandtheMarquez/Borges/CalvinoTriumvirate,TomDorragain,TheSouthernNews,Delaney’s,Thealltoooftentakenforgranteddurabilityofleather,CatStevens,Beer,KentuckyStraightBourbonWhiskey,XhenetAliu,TheReverendNathanBulthuisZillionaire,Thatsuper-friendlydudeattheConventionCenter,PaulineLefevreandalltheotherFrenchetteswecomeacross,thestaffofFoster’sRestaurant,SamCalkins,FederalReserveChairmanBenBernankefordoingthebesthecandamnit,theDancingStatuesinDenver,Bob,alltheDwarvesexceptSneezy(heknowswhy),Newcastle,Guinness,DogfishHead,MillerHighLife,JeffBridges,Ourselves,andallthewriterswhosubmittedtheirhardwork.Thanks.

Bonaldo ~ BozzutoCaycedo-Kimura ~ CoffinConway ~ Cunningham

DeSanti ~ DutkaniczEmerling ~ Frank-Hutchinson

Frodsham ~ GamacheGurge ~ HallidayJohnson ~ Jones

Knox ~ KomosinskiLewis ~ Litrenta

Miller ~ PascarellaQuesnel ~ Schaffrick

Scucci ~ SmithSpaziani ~ Sullivan

Turso ~ WalshWillborne ~ Williams