It was a kiss of betrayal, you fucking whore.

He43 came by after teaching one of his final English courses at the university, to pick up his watch and tell me that he wasn't going to fuck me anymore, so I guess that's it.

Guess that's it.

I had shown him some truth and he43 ran, like they all run. They run like rats from truth, like rats from a sinking ship. He43 came by just to pick up his watch.

When we were half an hour early for the movie we sat in his car and listened. Listened to each other's sighs, new but pleading for familiarity, his music shown to me like a child with a new guest in the house: hey look also I got a lizard. Here look look it's sleeping. Yeah. It's my lizard. He43 turned his head and looked at his back seat which he43 had heretofore not noticed until someone with fresh eyes as they say had pointed it out to him and he43 widened his eyes in boredom, he43 was excited to know someone new, someone he could talk about anything with, a girl. An attractive girl. A girl he could fuck.

He1 used to show me. On the clock. He1 knew I'd pick it up eventually and I did. 10:15. My birthday. I only told one person. Didn't get it. I would be going about my business and cleaning my room, racetrack thoughts jockeying to the forefront of my head, and I would glance at the time and there it would be, not a minute before, not a minute after. Not 10:34. Not 10:11. 10:15 because that's my birthday and he1 knew I would get it eventually.

He37 came into the bar, the first time he looked me in the eyes, that straightaway look. I remembered that look in the eye. I didn't know where from. In between there were jobs at offices, trips to cities, dozens of shows, shows of all kinds, hundreds of acquaintances, jobs in restaurants, jobs in bars, dozens of clients, 'guests,' roommates, roommates mates, girls and their boyfriends, boys and their friends. I didn't remember where from. He37 remembered.

There's one of them. He58 works in a bank and at Starbucks but his real money comes from selling ecstasy. The silent brooding type. Thinks he58 knows who he is but he doesn't. He58 is what he thinks he should be. He58 thought he wanted me. Everything I said seemed to fit into his box labeled "What I Want." He used to say, "Ciao, bella," and he knew it would charm me. Me. Bella. Ha. I had to tell him I wasn't going to fuck him. I told him the first time I could, when it was just us, not accompanied by the party. He took me to lunch and I told him straight out. I was just, last week, understand seeing your friend. Understand? I'm not like that. I'm not that kind of girl. He threw a drink at me, later, when the party was there to witness the outburst, to see how offed he was. Didn't mean to but did it. To spite me. To show me he was hurt. I was the heartbreaker. Running around breaking boy's hearts. He gave me Ondaadje for V. Day. Signed the inside in French, told to him no doubt over the phone by a smoking Michele. I knew what he meant. Not the French. The, you're the one, I picked you out so you're the one. Because I picked you. I picked you after I decided you were perfect and there's no going back now, your saying no doesn't fit. See? It's in this novel, this kind of love. I picked you and you're it. Got the novel to prove it.

And I did get it. I saw the clock, each time after that and giggled. Daddy. You imp. Stay alive, he was saying. You were born on this day: remember? For a reason. It was for a reason.

The movie was called: The Day I Became A Woman.

The next time I saw him43 walking down the avenue towards the bar and I smiled and said hi grabbing a bottle of pear cider, through the window that opened onto the street. I didn't quite remember who or how or why but I knew I should know him so I said hi. And he43 looked good. He43 looked like a tall dark English Professor. My age. A person my age could be a professor. Of English. This means James, this means Nabokov, this means Shakespeare. And he knew me from college. I would take his I.D. at the computer lab counter, reading my poli sci textbook, and he would look me in the eyes and say: thanks. I told my college roommate about him. I had a crush on him. I had a crush on a few guys. He was one of them. I was in college. And this time he was meeting a friend. The rest of the bar was discussing T&A and pool and other drunk nights and they were discussing commerce and the death penalty. He thought I didn't remember him, and I didn't but then I did. I remembered him too well. I was in college then. I didn't fuck anyone. I didn't know I could.

We dated for a while and he attempted to tell me who ee cummings was. The poet I first read when my 2nd grade teacher pulled me aside after I wrote my first poem, to learn Japanese and postmodern poetry privately with the Japanese 3rd grade teacher, whom he7 no doubt was fucking. Dating. As he43 went right in explaining who ee cummings was without first asking if I even knew...I waited to hear how he43 would explain cummings then had to cut him off quietly, femininely, sweetly...with a smile on my face..."I know who ee cummings is." With a smile on my face.

All these ghosts and not a single door blown open. No one standing in the doorway, a face from the past, a familiar body to hold, not a single knowing check in -- how's it goin? Years, months, nights, ERs, fights, drinks, quick saves, all the minutes spent, holding sobbing girls in my long arms, all the secrets I know, the secrets nobody else knows. Secrets that would make men cry. Secrets that would make rats run. All the times I chased the boys and the calls and the creditors away like a tiger with fire in her belly. The driving, the drives, the drugs, the drinks, the diseases, the delirium, the derelict nights. Not a single face in the doorway. Remember me? How you been. And then it stopped. Lost everything. Again. After only gaining the essentials. Bare essentials. Bear essentials. A little food to eat, some new friendly faces, something to improve my standard of living. Small things a bear needs. Lost. All gone. And he43 came by to pick up his watch and tell me that since he wasn't going to fuck me, he wasn't going to come around at all.

And then it stopped. Even if I waited at the clock, from 10:09 on, not blinking, it would go right by like it wasn't even a time to begin with. It would go straight to 10:16. He1 stopped just when I needed it. He wanted me to learn it for future reference but I couldn't. I need it now.

He43 back-handedly "complimented" me by emphasizing how very, very attracted to me he was. He should have just back-handed me.

And he43 stood on the back steps hoping to leave before anything worse happened (what worse?) and I couldn't say anything just wanted to cry. Nobody wants off this sinking ship more than I. What do you do if you are the sinking ship? I nudged him with my foot at his shin like a guy’s guy who just lost a game of horse to the better player and said it was O.K. He43 said no it isn't but he left anyway. All four steps.

He43 only came to get his watch.

I slammed the door before I could see him descend the steps and I ran upstairs before anyone could interrupt the onset and I tried to shut off my ears before I could hear him drive off. The way they all did. The way they all do. They want to be excused from class.

He said, I don't know what to do and I'm afraid of what you might say.

The movie was called: The Day I Became A Woman.


- written 1999