Monstrato by Christopher Ganey
~~~
When we sat down to eat dinner, my mom wasn't saying anything. We were quiet for a long time, and then my brother said, "So Calvin's not your boyfriend anymore?"
I said, "Yep, you got that right."
He asked, "Don't you like him anymore?"
I said, "He doesn't like me," and I could hear my voice crack.
He asked, "Why?" and my mom told him to quit asking questions and finish his dinner. He was quiet for a while, and then he said, "So you're not gonna be going over to his house every night, and you can stay here and play with me."
I said, "Yeah…yeah, I can." And now, I could feel myself breathing heavy—you know, when you feel that pure emotion taking over your body, and you don't know whether you're gonna cry or smash something.
Then he said, "Dad says that Calvin's brother is a drug dealer."
I knew what he was trying to do. In his own way, he was trying to make me feel better. But right then, I wanted to take my mashed potatoes and throw them in his face. My mom had made them because she knew they were my favorite. They were homemade and chunky and had lots of butter on them. All of a sudden, I didn't feel like eating them. I thought to myself, Everybody's got a fucking opinion, even this runt. I took one more mouthful and got up from the table. I went to my room, grabbed my cigarettes, put on a hoody, and went outside. I sat on the porch in an old, rusty piece of lawn furniture, the kind with the vines and flowers on the armrests and the metal mesh seat that seems to massage you while you sit. It was cold out, and I pulled my knees up to my chest under my sweatshirt, hugged my legs, and stared out at the dark neighborhood. I stayed that way for a long time, quietly repeating over and over to myself, "Everybody's got an opinion," as if, somehow, that summed up my state of mind. But it didn't. Then I heard Sierra Brand's voice ringing in my head, "Is it true you slept with Calvin's brother?…Is it true?…Is it true?" and I felt the same rage I felt when I attacked her a couple days before.
I lit a cigarette. I'd quit smoking when Calvin and I got back together. He was always saying, "Smoke to get high, not to die." I'd started again the night before when I went over to Alley's.
I was beginning to shiver, and it felt good to be cold. When you have a fever, you're supposed to be cold and shivering until the virus can't live in your body anymore and decides to leave. That's how I felt, like I was getting rid of all the bullshit, driving it out and cleansing myself. I felt like I was getting the stink off from all the people who were trying to put their hands on me. Because it seemed as if somebody always wanted to dissect and explain my problems and use my situation to somehow justify themselves, and I didn't need any of that. I knew where I made mistakes and what I did wrong, and I didn't need anyone to tell me…certainly not my mom.
Sometimes, if you really screw up to the point where you can't blame anyone but yourself, it's almost better that way. It's easier to get over because you're not walking around lying to yourself like so many people are, making up reasons for why something happened. You're not trying to justify it one way or another because you can't. You accept what you did and move on, and that's what I was ready to do. And when I thought about it that way, I felt like a great weight had been lifted, and I felt strong. I was freezing, but I felt strong. I thought, If other people aren't ready to let me move forward, then screw'em, they need to get their own lives…especially that bitch on the other side of the door.
I hopped off the chair and went inside, expecting her to start in on me again, but she was busy putting my brother to bed. When she finally came out of his room, she saw me sitting on the couch in the darkened living room and came and sat beside me. She was crying. She put her arms around me and told me she was sorry and that she knew how terrible I must feel. I did feel terrible, and I started crying too…because I missed Calvin so much.