God, I’m sorry but
I can’t stop,
don’t want to-
Oh God, oh God, Oh
God will forgive me,
right?
Right?
He sleeps, guiltless.
I slink out of bed,
slither into wrinkled shirt and jeans,
pretend I’m a shadow
creeping across the floor,
slipping out the door,
racing home quick as feet
can meet the air.
But no matter how fast I flee,
step by step
guilt gains on me.
I.
It’s not that I thought
angels would sing,
or the sky would part.
I’m not a kid.
But I did think
there’d be this trade,
that I’d give something up
and he would too.
Instead,
I’m somehow less
and his more
is still locked away
in a mystery
of bone and skin,
and the sin of it
is that I’m empty now,
and keyless.
II.
It wasn’t worth
all the guilt,
I know that much.
Besides, once he got past
the feeling-up part,
it was mostly pain.
Why do all those
stupid songs say
the first time
is the best?
III.
What would Seth say?
I’m not ready to tell her, yet.
Not ready to see the look in her eye,
the one that says
What happened to the promise
you made to God?
I wish it was easier
breaking God’s law.
I wish that commitment band
didn’t burn my finger
like lye.
I snatched it off that night,
opened my bedroom window
and tossed it.
If Mom asks where it’s gone,
I’ll say I lost it.
What’s one more lie?
I already told God
I didn’t mean it,
that I hadn’t planned
to give myself away.
But just between me and you,
that’s only half true.
My mind’s a mess.
Wasn’t it yesterday
I looked for Trey around
every corner, down every hall?
Now, for the last three days
all I do
is duck whenever
he comes into view.
I need time to think,
to figure out
what I’m feeling
and why.
I switch on the computer
Mom worked overtime
to pay for,
check my IM
and click on slickwillow,
the screenname Coach
gave my best friend, Sethany,
‘cause she’s tall and willowy,
and the enemy always
counts her out,
thinking she’s a girly-girl.
But once she hits the court,
look out,
‘cause she’s a slammer,
and God help the girl
across from Sethany
when she’s at the net.
“hey! waz up?”
The words pop
on the computer screen.
“before you answer,
wat’s a 6 letter wd
for sequester?”
“wat’s sequester?” I write.
“sigh. that’s Y U cant
beat me at Scrabble.
U have heard of the dictionary?”
“whatever,” I write.
“i’ve got more important things
on my mind.”
“oooh! this is going 2 be hot,
i can tell.” ☺
“well, i was with Trey last week.”
“and?”
“i-was-with-Trey last week.”
“OMG,” Sethany writes. (:0)
“exactly.”
I didn’t tell Seth this,
but I wish I had waited.
I know, God.
You wish I had too.
How come your voice
is coming through loud and clear now?
Why couldn’t I hear you before?
Never mind. I know.
Call me Jonah.
I was too busy running
in the opposite direction.
Just one more thing
for which I have to take the blame.
The next day
Seth nods to me
across the classroom,
like always.
Except there’s something off
about her silent hello,
a look that says
I guess I don’t know you
as well as I thought.
“Waz up, girl?
Hardly seen u since-
u know.
I’m missing u.
When can we meet?
Trey.”
I hit delete.
Wish I could do the same
with that one, wrong night.
The next day
Trey meets me after class.
He leans in for a kiss.
I love those lips
and get lost in them, for a minute.
But then I come to my senses.
“Trey, we need to talk.”
He pulls back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I mean -”
My hands go clammy.
“I don’t want to talk here.”
“Let’s go to my place then.”
A siren goes off in my head.
His place? Alone? Again?
“Fine,” I tell us both,
promising myself
this time will be different.
Inside the door,
Trey drops our backpacks
on the floor,
and reaches for me
as if he’s grown
an extra pair of hands.
They’re everywhere-
at my buttons,
fiddling with my zipper.
I push him away.
“Stop it, Trey.
We can’t do this.
I can’t do this.
I’m sorry.”
Trey goes stone-still,
then drops his hands
to his sides.
His eyes go glacial.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“Whatever.
I need to hit the shower.
You know where the door is.”
“But Trey-”
“Go run hot and cold
somewhere else.”
It’s me.
I must’ve done
something wrong,
not made myself clear.
I mean, he loves me, right?
So it shouldn’t matter
if we’re not together
like that.
Maybe if I just
explain it to him right.
I’ll try again, tonight.
He won’t return
my texts, or phone calls.
It’s all I can do
not to wait for him
at the gym
after basketball practice.
I just want to ask
what happened to him loving me?
Why can’t we still be
together?
I don’t understand.
He said I was his girl.
He said he was my man.
Days disappear in a haze
of Shakespeare, career fairs,
pop quizzes, history homework,
and the white noise of teachers
calling on me
for answers I’ve suddenly forgotten
how to give.