Here Comes the Sun.

and it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake him off..

Caught. Beccata.

If Mary could do it, why couldn’t Jenny. For a year and a half 14-year-old Mary would sneak a boy into the house while Mom and Pop were out, and kiss until they came home. Jenny, her older sister would vigilantly stand watch like a good sister. The second she saw Mom and Pop moseying up their front steps, she’d tell Mary immediately. The boy would race upstairs to hide. Once Mom and Pop were inside, settled, and maybe even turning in for the night, the boy would quietly creep down the stairs, not making a sound, and exit through the front door. No one ever suspected a thing.

It was a disgrace to kiss a boy at such a young innocent age, so it was imperative that plans be carried out carefully. Not only did Jenny and Mary have their parents to avoid, but Angelo, the oldest son often claimed an authoritarian title in the household. So revered by his mother, Angelo could impose any discipline he wanted. At some time in Jenny’s youth, her sister Mary wanted to cut her hair in a short bob. Angelo approved, but it meant that Jenny too had to cut off her long locks no questions asked.

            One night, the parents were going to be out. Jenny figured this would be the perfect opportunity to do what she had wanted for some time—invite a cute boy over. She asked Mary if she would stand watch; she obliged. The cute boy came over at about 8:00. What a thrill it was to kiss a boy in secret. After all, Mary got away with it for so long. After about twenty minutes, Mary says, “I’m goin’ to bed.” Jenny’s heart sank.

“Oh please, Mary, please stay up and watch for me.”

“Nah, I’m goin’ to bed.”

After some time passes, Jenny hoped there was still a little time left as they continued to kiss. But then, all of a sudden, the door opens and there stood her parents, shocked. Her father was livid.

“Go home,” he says to the boy. The cute boy bolts out the door.

            Her father immediately pushes her against the wall and begins to slap her. One slap after another, like a whip cracking on the skin. It seemed like an eternity until finally, “That’s enough Joe,” her mother says. Jenny brings her hands to her cheeks, hot against them as she slowly walked upstairs to the room she shared with Mary. Mary whispers,

            “I’m so sorry, Jen. I’m so so sorry.”

            “Thanks a lot, Mary.”

Jenny turns over to fall asleep.

In the morning, Jenny walks down to the breakfast table, still distraught from the night before. Angelo is sitting there, a look of defiant anger on his face.

“I heard what you did last night.”

Before Jenny could respond, Jenny was up against the wall, hands flying every which way towards her face and the rest of her body. Jenny now refers to this as “the worst beating I ever had.” Punching her body all over, she sobbed, and then the slaps came. Slaps so hard in such quick succession, she felt she couldn’t breathe. Every time she looked up, another hand was coming toward her face, crashing so heavily against her skin. The stinging was unbearable; it felt like her face was on fire. Her mother stood there and watched, never opening her mouth. After about twenty minutes Jenny’s face was swollen red, Angelo’s fingerprints cast upon her cheeks and wet from her tears. Her body was aching terribly all over. The minute she could get away, she did. She ran out of the house sobbing clutching her face. She kept running, her home  becoming smaller and smaller in the distance, as the wind helped to soothe her burning face. She ran all the way to her grandmother’s apartment; they called her “Mammanon.” She knocked on the door still sobbing. The door opened quietly and her grandmother gasped, frightened for the child.

“What happened…” she asks frantically.

But Jenny was still sobbing so heavily, she couldn’t get any words to come out. Finally, she recounted the story, Mammanon hanging on every word.

“Well, you were wrong in what you did, breaking the rules,” she said still soothing her. “But that’s no excuse for your face to be swollen red.” Mammanon always knew how to make the situation better. 

Some years later, Jenny said, “I loved my mother regardless of her not doing anything to protect me. Angelo, I never forgave.”

Taking a bike ride with you

on a trail near the mountains 

where the air is clear 

and the lambs eat pleasantly

next to us as we ride,

can mean two things:

Taking a trip down memory lane.

Or living only now

in this millisecond

where my bike is close to yours,

our petals almost touch

and the overgrown tops of the trees 

hover, waiting for us 

to spout off yet another new idea.

Alien with No Ears.

After a writing activity in class, this was probably my favorite story. I wrote several words on the board and the students had to incorporate them into a story (barcelona, alien, policeman, kiss, deaf woman, party etc.) In short, this was the final product:

A homosexual policeman is sitting in his car in Barcelona. He sees a ticket on his windshield and he can’t believe what he’s seeing! Then he sees a woman with no ears dressed in policeman attire; she was controlling traffic. The homosexual policeman asks her, “Do you know who I am?” She says, “Yes, but I am an alien.” Then she kisses him and he too loses his ears and becomes an alien like her. Remember kids, if you want to try drugs be careful and always wear a condom. The End.

=priceless.