oh

“What time is your appointment?”

“Three”

“Who’s taking you?”

“Bus.”

“Do you have enough money?”

“Some.”

“Here, take this just in case.”

“Ok.”

“What else is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“How’s school?”

“Sucks.”

“Have you talked to Martin?”

“Marc.”

“Yeah, Marc.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“So, you are not telling him?”

“No.”

“Are sure that’s wise, to keep something like this from him?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think he’d like to help?”

“Maybe.”

“Then maybe we should tell him.”

“We?”

“Or just you….or just me. I’d call him for you if you’d like.”

“No.”

“Ok, did you say 3?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, I don’t mind driving you.”

“Ok.”

“Really? Great, let me get my keys. And we’ll leave. Be right back.”

“Mom?”

“Be right there!"

“Thanks.”

"What, honey?"

"Nothing."

"Oh."

THE give up

The phone shouted at me, again.

I succumbed and answered.

God again.

Trying to sell me more magic.

No thank you.

Decided on sleep.

Dreams decided against.

Need a snack, ate your heart.

Couldn’t finish, too bitter.

Left.

Went right.

Became lost.

Deep in the crossroads of your choices.

Found the zoo, what a disappointment.

I found the tiger.

I fed him my soul.

He got sick, lost his stripes.

I tried to laugh with the Jackals.

But I had heard their jokes before.

I needed angles, rigid, hard angles.

(Not angels)

Library seemed cozy.

Hardbacks of paper cuts, rough edges squared off.

I took my time.

Swimming in the sea of printed words.

I spoke aloud about the fireworks in my head.

Talking to them about spiders, dynamite, and the rapture.

Escorted out.

Wrists felt heavier somewhere behind me.

In the back of their rolling cage.

I wished I had my soul.

I wished I wasn’t alone back here.

Slimy, warm, strong hand slithered into mine.

Looked into a split lipped snarl.

Burning, hating eyes.

Collapsed.

Disappearing down a black funnel.

Falling, falling, falling.

Doctor Marten

Somewhere along the line she left her doubts and fears behind her.  Was it the bus stop in Houston?  Or maybe it was the one in Oklahoma City? Well, wherever it was, it was gone, long gone, and never able to find her again.  When she boarded the bus in Santa Fe she had been 15 year old Molly Jessica Warner, running away from an unbearable situation. And by the time the bus pulled into Boston, Massachusetts she was now Kelli Francis Cera, her own creation.  She had always liked the name Kelli; all her dolls were named Kelli when she was little, so that was easy.  For Francis, it had dual meaning.  Her two favorite movies are: The Godfather and Dirty Dancing. (The few people she told this too found those two movies quite the opposites and usually laughed at her and Molly did not like to be laughed at.) The Godfather was directed by FRANCIS Ford Coppola, and Dirty Dancing had a character nicknamed “Baby” and “Baby’s” real name was Francis, in the movie, so there you go. And finally she wanted a last name that meant something for her, someone that inspired her, but it couldn’t be obvious like Pitt, Clooney, or Pattinson.  So she went with Cera, after the actor Michael Cera, which she had a huge crush on and who seemed as uncomfortable with life as she was.  While in Houston, on a bus change, she bought red hair dye and some makeup from the gift shop.  When she walked out of the bathroom she looked 5 years older and felt more confident and the transformation was near complete. She was pretty sure that even her mother wouldn’t recognize her in this getup, not that her mother would care to look for her.  Not only was her hair and makeup different, but she stole someone’s unattended suitcase (something Molly would never do) and rifled through it until she found something she’d never wear when she was Molly.  The yellow and black flannel shirt had snap buttons and was about 2 sizes too big for her, which she remedied by tying into a knot and rolling up the sleeves.  The pants were blue jeans, old, ripped, broken in blue jeans.  She rolled up the cuff on both legs and cinched the belt tight.  She kept her boots, her maroon Doc Marten’s. These boots had been her Dad’s when he was in High School, and now Molly…no Kelli, never went anywhere without them, even if they were a bit big for her. She’d like to think she had walked a mile in his shoes, as the saying goes. Molly missed her Dad but decided this would be the last she would miss him, she had to be hard and impenetrable and missing someone is a weakness she can no longer afford.   And so Kelli stepped off the last step of the bus and walked into the Boston bus station.  Bus travel was second-class transportation these days.  What used to be the only way to travel long distances by the rich and famous was not full of the poor and escapists.  The station was crowded with large families kissing their loved ones goodbye. Kelli easily disappeared into the madness. The station carried a general stench of sweat, dirt, and hamburgers.  It reminded her of her brother’s room back home, or I guess it was Molly’s brothers and Molly’s home. Kelli didn’t have family, or at least so she decided.   Kelli walked to the exit doors that lead to the busy streets of Boston, to begin her adventure, under a new name, and in a new life.  And as the doors slammed shut behind her so did her past.  And all that chased her, wanted her, longed for her would be forgotten.  The young, newly christened Kelli blended in with the people on the street. The yellow of her flannel could be seen weaving in and out of the masses, and then it was gone.  And Kelli was gone, long gone, and running away from Molly.