The End of November

 November 18

Mr. Lizard gave me a hickey. He hated it when I bit him, but I couldn’t help nipping him, especially after I would say something amazedly about how pretty he was, (“You are so cute, little Freshman”) and he’d confidently receive the praise. The nerd. 

When Tonya left the next morning, she found Brett sitting on the steps, playing his guitar. 

“What time did you leave,” she asks.

“Around 8:30. I had to get some sleep in my own bed.”

Later that week Heather(!) asks Brett if he had a good time on Friday. (She didn’t want an answer, she wanted a reaction.) 

He blushes (according to Tonya, according to H.) and says “yeah, we had a lot of fun. She’s a really nice girl.” What does that mean?

I keep having fears of getting cancer. A spot on my arm itched for a week. I woke up with an unreasonable pain in my hip.

Last nite Diane, Michelle & I went out. What sweet joy at comfortable laughter. Simple happiness from casual acceptance. Fun. I wanted someone to share it with though, this morning. 

“Clarkie! I went out with 2 girls last night!”

“Oh wow! Great! How was it—tell me everything!” Such an event. And it was nice.

November 20

Period is coming and hope is leaving. Hope that Brett & I would have a real relationship. He knows I’m going to Chicago, he knows I wanted to see him over Thanksgiving, he knows my number.  1 + 1 + 1 = 0  (Ha! That’s pretty good!) No calls, no letters, no nothing. Was he just another Name? Hear the same songs & to feel something, fill in the blank with the name of your choice.

Is this why he’a been so quiet to Tonya? Did he find something (everything) distasteful in my letters? I hate silence.

Scene: a long shot of 2 people talking, very far away, but something striking about them, maybe a red coat. Behind them (I'm seeing the library) something huge. No sound. Next shot, same huge establishing thing, but much farther away. And one of the characters comes into he shot, walking away from the library. Camera follows character -- we know it's one of the same as the two from the red coat. Just walking, entire conversation is heard as we watch her face. A memory. 

November 25

I am amazingly rational. And it's not just shock. Of course, I knew. This morning, I knew. I called Mom about 1/2 an hour ago. Let me grieve in my own way. I plan what to wear, what teacher to talk to, my schedule. Calculated. 

Is it because I had known for a long time that she was gone? Is it because I thought often about this moment, wondering whether it would be hypocritical to break down when she stopped breathing when she had stopped living weeks ago? It is because I'm truly relieved? 

Of course I'll cry later: Ron will make me cry, Mom will make me cry, others' tears always make me cry. I'll cry for myself. I should laugh w/joy. She is beautiful & good again. Of course, if I start to yell, I'll lose it & sob harsh screams. 

Death sucks.

When someone found out Mrs. Lister had died and the neighbors were converging in front of her house, Ron & I played soccer in the back yard.

November 28

I have no respect for death. I respect life, I respect people. I will give death no power, I won't let it think itself important. 

Mother is weakness, Ron is strength. 

November 29

Film and music? Do you know what the secret is? 

You take a horribly sad piece that drips and match it with something normal, something you see everyday.

Rickie moans, Linda Ronstadt cries good-bye, good-bye, good-bye, the guitar mournfully plucks out Both Sides Now or wails Cause We've Ended as Lovers. 

Place them matter of factly with a normal, unsentimental shot, kids having fun outside somewhere, playing rough games, two young men talking, a girl methodically cleaning her room, a street at twilight, someone asleep in a chair, two people not smiling together, or two people smiling as they pass. Suddenly it aches.