this next section is called: edges or how to build a wall around yourself.
I leave candles lit sometimes when I leave the house. For hours, in their votive on my altar. I am jogging towards Morris St. It will take me five minutes and I am suddenly awake. Not everyone is asleep. I see two men walking up a side street as I run past. Don’t stop. I leave candles burning overnight. I leave candles on every wooden surface and then I go about my day. I know the names of a few of my ancestors and I repeat them to myself: Theresa Panko. I run faster and I am aware suddenly that the edges of the city are closing in. We are three days in and I am not invulnerable or wearing armor. There is ice in some places. Theresa Panko. I don’t think about Hungary like I should or what was done to us. I almost slip on a patch but I run faster and I see the sign for Mirch st. and nothing has fallen out of my pocket and I feel sorry for the strange man but then I see the empty street and red sedan.
“Dear God,” I whisper. “Give me all the luck we lost.”
Theresa Panko, surrendered her daughter to an orphanage in Hungary and opened up a tavern in Passaic, New Jersey. Give me your guile.
I am in the car with the door closed in silence, with the door locked, haven’t started it or decided anything in silence. Finally, I’m sobbing.
You’d be shocked to know that I left my front door key under my front step black kitty cat face place mat but I had. An exercise of trust. I did not want any keys jangling and I knew no one, not even myself, would look under the front mat for my key. Unless they did, but I felt secure placing the heater down for a moment, lifting it up, grabbing they key and unlocking it quickly. Safely inside, there was no safe inside, but we were all pretending and so was I. I set the heater down next to the door, walked to the table, snatched the charger and proceed to re enter the night. I had an inch of a plan: start their car, charge my phone, return all keys and walk back. Tired? Maybe. I took my key this time. As I said, that was an exercise of trust. People get lucky twice, three times, multiple times but best to be smarter every time.
“When you start the car,” I began to myself, “be prepared to steal it.”
You cannot do these things if you are not prepared to run. As I turned the corner, I met the first stranger of the night.
“Hello,” I said.
He was facing me. I squared but recognized him. He may not have been homeless but he hung around a lot. He was wearing a big black parka, his eyes were wide. He had gloves.
“Do you need anything?” I asked without moving.
I made a quick pact with myself: don’t tell him your name, where you live or invite him inside. He mumbled and kind of rocked and moved towards me but slowly.
“The world is ending.”
His eyes were wide and I could see the white of his teeth and gray of his beard but nothing else.
“Here,” I reached in my back pocket. “I have a flashlight.”
I held it out to him, my hands still ungloved and probably getting frost bit. I would need to take a bath when I got home. No, you need to conserve water.
“You’ll need that mosying on your missions.”
His voice was gruff but weak. He had spoken to me once before. Asked me which way the bus was going and I didn’t know.
“I have an extra. It will help you see.”
I closed the gap between us and handed it to him with my left hand, same hand the knife was taped to and hoped he wouldn’t suddenly grab it. We held gaze. His face was sad and he felt close to succumbing to the weather. I could see his cheeks, dotted with something, maybe ice and for a black man, he was pallid. He smiled and his teeth were a perfect yellow. I get upset over mine but his teeth were ruined. He did grab my finger tips.
“Don’t go on Mckean and 2nd, they are robbing people.”
I nodded. He nodded and walked past me, leaving the flashlight with me. A chill went down my back. McKean is only two blocks away from Mirch. I turned to watch him continue his walk and then I started running the other way.
January 12 2020
I decide that the best course of action is a little bit of chaos. Charging my phone at three am was a risk I was going to take. When I left their house with all their keys tucked in my pocket, I thought it best to walk briskly. I could not put the heater underneath my jacket and though I would attract attention to myself, I had no choice. I sort of jog-walked the ten minutes. Alert, I didn’t let my mind wander too far but truly, how the fuck is everyone sleeping?
You’d be shocked to know that I left my front door key under my front step black kitty cat face place mat but I had. An exercise of trust. I did not want any keys jangling and I knew no one, not even myself, would look under the front mat for my key. Unless they did, but I felt secure placing the heater down for a moment, lifting it up, grabbing they key and unlocking it quickly. Safely inside, there was no safe inside, but we were all pretending and so was I. I set the heater down next to the door, walked to the table, snatched the charger and proceed to re enter the night. I had an inch of a plan: start their car, charge my phone, return all keys and walk back. Tired? Maybe. I took my key this time. As I said, that was an exercise of trust. People get lucky twice, three times, multiple times but best to be smarter every time.
“When you start the car,” I began to myself, “be prepared to steal it.”
You cannot do these things if you are not prepared to run. As I turned the corner, I met the first stranger of the night.
The previous evening was mostly blur. I had arrived unrested, unkempt an ddehydrated, not to mention completely apathetic to the presence of everyone around me. The fluorescent lighting didn’t help. It felt like day but how long had I been in the ER? They gave me an IV of water, took my vitals, made me answer questions.
“When was the last time you ate?”
And the pause between the question and the answer alarmed them.
“I didn’t eat today actually.”
I had no problem getting to the acute unit. Well, I was escorted but I mean I was voluntary. Well, I was on suicide watch but that felt normal to me. I had to eat so I was placed at a table with a big, black man with no hair named Aaron. He put a cup of chocolate pudding in front of me and a spoon.
“They’ve already had dinner.”
What time is it?
“I’m vegan.”
I looked down when I spoke, ashamed at my request. I should be grateful for anything right now. He eyed me before moving. I guess he was waiting to see if I would eat it without fight. Out of my periphery, I saw him nod. I had a red bracelet on so no one could leave me alone. He got up and traded places with the man outside the doorway. Aaron disappeared and this new man sat in his place.
“Hey.”
He politely waved. He also had bald head too but he was slimmer than his friend and had a goatee. He never told me his name. Aaron returned with applesauce, his friend got up, Aaron sat down in front of me and slid it across.
“Vegan.”
“Yes.”
“They said you don’t eat.”
“Yes.”
“I’m gonna watch you eat.”
“Well aren’t you an angel?”
It took me one whole minute to pull the tab off. Aaron didn’t say anything. I hated being watched. I was slow when I was watched. I placed it neatly next to me and picked up the little plastic spoon and took a tiny bite. I felt the sugar hit my teeth and then the viscous goo and then the jaw’s reaction. Subdued panic. I placed the spoon back on the table.
“What, no way, uh uh. You gotta EAT.”
“I am eating, Aaron.”
He froze. When you say a man’s name back to him like that, they lose control. I picked the spoon back up and took another bite to show him.
“I’m eating.”
I took a few more bites to assuage him and then stopped.
“I don’t like to be rushed.”
He was immediate with his returns.
“I see that.”
I sat with my arms crossed in my lap waiting for him to leave but then I glimpsed at the red bracelet..
“So…is starvation the way you want to go?”
I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. What to say here. You have to be careful in hospitals. You have to be careful in court and with doctors and with landlords. You always have to be careful. I kept my eyes to the window.
“Of course not. I would always jump off a bridge. Be dramatic about it.”
“Oof that would hurt.
I turned back to look at him. he leaned back in his chair, crossed his hands over his lap.
“So does everything.”
I finished the applesauce in front of him and he didn’t ask any more questions.He escorted me to my room and I saw that I was sharing the room with an older white woman who I knew immediately was trouble. I could tell because when I walked in she said,
“Get the fuck out of here you polak bitch.”
The day I arrived it was hot, not snowing like I had thought it would be, or should I say, like I thought I had been promised. It was scorching. My feet were sore and drenched. I wore socks, always, even in these temperatures. Well, if I was wearing sneakers or boots which I often was as they are easier to walk in, I always wore socks. People who don’t wear socks with their sneakers are disgusting. I wore boots that day with a short blue floral sundress. They were old, both the dress and the boots. The dress was a hand-me-down gift from someone, possibly seven years ago and the boots a present to myself on a rainy day when I needed to walk puddles. They were from the thrift store: brown and big and clunky.
My face was bare and so was my head. I’ll interject to admit I could have been a little dramatic about the heat but I felt like I was peering into the center of the sun and so did my skin. My forehead and face were streaked with sweat. Walking for miles, my knees hurt and my legs hurt. My back hurt and I was tired. Not just tired, but consumed, oddly barren but so heavy and so hot. I carried nothing in my hand. I hadn’t drank anything for hours. Obsessed with the way my mouth felt, I was constantly opening and closing it, feeling how dry my tongue was against the roof. Opening and shutting my jaw to hear the click, to see how much I could open it, to feel it tense and lock near shut. Rubbing it with my hand, sort of humming cajoling it to open, it was on the verge of close without my input. When I arrived at the hospital, I was on the verge of collapse anyway so the entire process went faster.
My knees buckled from over exertion and anxiety when I walked in. I could barely stand so the attendings swarmed me to help. They brought me water and that’s when I spoke, for the first time to anyone all day.
“I can’t. I’ll choke.”
I fainted. I was so proud of my body for fainting. I can’t lie. I feel the constant need to confess so I had walked for miles until I fainted. They tried to ask my name. I whispered and they repeated back: Sadia? I could only nod. When someone has no ID, they use Doe or Smith as a last name to keep everyone separate. I was Sadia Smith. I was admitted to Pennsylvania Presbyterian Hospital for severe dehydration and exhaustion and later admitted to Presbyterian’s acute psychiatric unit for a dissociative fugue. The name on my file said Sadia Smith. “Manic. Possibly psychotic.”
I heard them say that the following morning as I waited for my special consult. I was excited for the consult and this new shiny name. They had tucked me in a room with an older white woman who screamed randomly in the night. She didn’t scream all night, just whenever the urge came over her at unpredictable intervals. I felt I deserved that. I liked that I couldn’t sleep. The next morning a very warm and fuzzy glow masked my eyes as I walked the unit avoiding drinking water, avoiding breakfast, avoiding comraderie. Me, with my freshly shaved head and blue gown and the word “courage” written in permanent marker on my skull (I wanted to see if it would make a good tattoo), avoiding. I felt giant. I felt like laughing in their faces. Sure, I’m thirsty. Who isn’t?
thirteen stories for boys and thirteen stories
for witches.
and suddenly elucidated,
I remember,
I am the dark thing
inside of me.
“datura moon”
give me coffee,
watch me run in circles,
flash my tongue.
what it’s like to rule like queen:
favors coming at you and people
trembling in their seats,
the gluttony, the theft,
the power
What do I want?
and at your leisure.
“The way there is sudden and the way back is worse.”
jeanette winterson
We are going to tiptoe this steep one.
We are going to be even slower
than I thought possible
when I am already slow
like dead clocks.
daturamoon.com 