The Blue Birds

“My name is Suzie Slate, my dad enrolled me yesterday.” I said, handing my schedule to my English teacher. “Paul, right?” He asked as he took the paper out of my hand. I looked down at my raggedy shoes and untied laces, each cross by set on the marble floor, I looked up reading his name plate displayed on his desk, looking around the empty class. “Yes, Paul.” I answered, hugging my binder and books to myself, not really knowing what to do with my arms at a stand still. I looked at Mr. Cill to see he had been looking at me the whole time I was wandering with my eyes. “Why are you late, Suzie?” He asked, putting my paper in front of him. I cleared my throat, putting one foot on top of the other. “I- well, I woke up late… sorry.” I explained as best I could.

He smiled and exhaled through his nostrils, “I’ll catch you up on some stuff.” He said, leaning back. I nodded and looked at one of the desks, “Need a seat?” I heard him, as I nodded again and walked to a random desk in the front row and put my books on it, trying to grab the desk to scoot it to his desk, “Hey, what’re you doing? Let me do that for you, what can of man would I be if I’d let a girl like you lift some heavy desk.” He claimed, standing up, I stood back from the desk feeling awkward and slightly embarrassed, grabbing my books off the top. He walked up to it and lifted it up without struggle, and put it close to his chair. “There, no problem see?” He gestured, I smiled and placed my books back on it and sat down.

I could smell his cologne that smelled something like pine trees, he also smelt like laundry detergent, and coffee. “Now… Let me see where I put them.” He mumbled. He searched through his drawers, I looked at his laptop, he had my file on his screen. When he sat up I looked away from it so it didn’t look like I was, I dunno, invading I guess. I looked up and we made eye contact again, his brown eyes looked into mine. “What’s your favorite season?” He asked, placing 4 hard-cover books on his desk, one blue one, one red one, one yellow one, and one green one, all blank. I looked back up, and wondered what I should say.

“Winter.” I answered, he gave a slight nod and gave me the blue one. “This, right here.” He tapped the cover with his index finger. “Will be your journal, you can draw on the top, write on it, decorate it whatever, it’s yours. Put your name on it anywhere, as long as you return it every Friday before the weekend, you can take it home, bring it back, but all I ask is for you to return it every Friday.” He explained, flipping through the blank pages.

I looked down and back up at him, “Do- do you read them?” He shook his head. “Not unless you want me too.” I laughed, his smile grew wider. I looked down to see that our knees were pressing against each-other, I looked at his shoes, they were brown and beige with white laces, mine were dirty, and his were clean, my skirt matched his dark brown pants I noticed. I scooted my left foot away from his right foot, I didn’t want to dirty his shoes. I looked up and blushed, “Sorry I, just, I-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have any other pair of shoes?” He asked, I shook my head. “No, just these.” I answered, “I see, well it’s okay, here-” He took a sharpie out of his drawer and bent down and uncapped it, he put a large line on the beige patch of his right shoe, my lips stuck apart from each other and he sat up. “They’re just shoes, Suzie. They don’t matter to me.” He said, lifting my foot with his own and put it directly on top of his right foot. Warmth just engulfed my face, and he laughed. “I like your smile, it’s awkward, cute, and dorky.” I scoffed feeling so flustered, I turned to look at the empty rows of desks, just to cool the fire on my face. Mr. Cill was a tall husky man, his voice was gentle, and he made my heart dance, that much I know.

“I’ll give you a passing grade for today but that doesn’t mean I’ll do the same tomorrow okay? I hope to see you Suzie.” I looked back at him. “Okay, thanks Mr. Cill.” I said, standing up, grabbing my books, I turned around but my right wrist was taken gently by his warm hand. “You forgot your journal.” I looked down. “Oh, thank you.” I said, taking it. “Bye-bye.” He said, “Bye, Mr. Cill.” I said, before walking again.

I walked in the empty hallways of the school, hearing my shoes scraping off the floor on each step echoing, looking at the blue journal on top of my binder, I saw the words in a cursive font, ‘The Blue Birds.’

“Did you talk to your homeroom teacher?” I look up from the wooden table, “Yea, yea I did.” I answered, turning halfway to my father mixing god-knows-what in the pot on the stove. “What he say?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Just…”

I reminisce how he smiles, the way he curves his lips to show some teeth, like a smirk, but with sincerity and wonder. “That he’ll pass me for today, but I won’t get the same courtesy tomorrow.” I explained. He puffed from his cigarette and turned around, I looked at the stains of his white tank-top, his wife-beater. “You gon’ catch up?” I nodded my head, and we stared at each-other for a moment. “You hungry?” I looked at the pot that was spitting what looked like tomato sauce at the wall, and then back at him. I shook my head, “Not really.”

He sighed and turned back around shaking his head. “You’re a thin girl, what is it gonna take for me to see ya eat?” He asked, vigorously stirring the pot. I shrugged my shoulders again, “I… I dunno.” I answered. I jumped when he threw the metal spoon in the sink. With heavy breathing he began to say, “I made… Spaghetti. I know your momma ain’t here to make it the way you like it, but you’re stuck with me since she decided that crack’ cocaine’ n’ meth was more important than her baby girl. You wanna least’ try it before you deny it?”

He turned around. I looked at him as the sound of me screaming was ringing in my mind, only a month ago since I found mom on the hallway floor from my bedroom. With my eyes burdening red I nodded, “Good.” He took a plate out of the cabinet. I turned around and rested my back against the chair. I sighed and wiped my eyes with my left sleeve, my brown hair falling over my face. My father walked to the table and put the plate in front of me as he carried a plate of his own, and put down a beer.

He sat down and picked up his fork, “Dad- you know…” He looked up at me. “You know that… That beer isn’t- isn’t more important than me too, right?” I asked, swallowing a knot in my throat. “What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying that at least mom was- was… I just don’t wanna lose you too.” I explained, my voice shaking as I spoke. “You ain’t gonna lose me, alright? I promise-”

“I had to clean up your puke since I was 7 dad, turn you over at night so you don’t choke on it, why do you think you find random full bottles of beer around the house?”

“Cuz you know I’d beat ya if you threw it away!” I slammed my palms on the wooden table. “SO I DIDN’T SEE YOU DRINKING ON A FUCKING SATURDAY! OR IN A TEACHER’S CONFERENCE! SO YOU DON’T PRETEND IM MOM! OR-”

“YOU THINK YOU’RE SO FUCKING SPECIAL BECAUSE YOU LOOK LIKE MOM, HUH! WHY DON’T YOU GO COPY YOUR FUCKIN’ MOM AND KILL YOURSELF AGAIN HUH! GO SLIT YOUR WRIST ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR AGAIN SO YOU CAN BE WITH YOUR MOM! TRY NOT TO GIVE ME ANOTHER HOSPITAL BILL TO PAY-”

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” I screamed and ran out of the kitchen. I ran up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door and locking it. I jumped onto my bed and scooted against the bed-post, sobbing and covering my eyes, breathing harshly because I felt like I was choking on my own tears. I rolled down my left sleeve to see the long thick scar down from vein to inner-elbow, sobbing as I caressed my fingers over it.

“What do you mean she tried to kill herself?” I turned my head to see my father screaming at the doctor on the other side of the window, veins popping out of his neck, his face being so red. “This is the same fucking room you put my wife in when she fucking overdosed! My daughter’s in there and you’re saying she’s gotta stay for the whole week!”

“We’re going to admit her to a psychiatric behavioral hospital-”

“You ain’t doin’ SHIT! She ain’t goin nowhere!”

RING!!!

I gasped and sat up, looking at my night stand, I smacked my hand on the alarm and exhaled heavily, I rubbed my face, getting my hair that was previously sticking to my face off. I looked around, in a tired daze, contemplating whether I should go back to sleep, or get ready.

I decided to get ready.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, towel wrapped around my torso as my long brown hair dripped down my back, I looked at my dull brown eyes and the slight purple around them, I looked down at my slightly pink cheeks and slightly pink lips, rubbing them together, wetting them with my tongue. I turned, putting my chin on my shoulder, batting my eyes as I pretended that Mr. Cill was in front of me. “Oh- this? It’s just this new lip gloss, I had it for a while now.” I mumbled, smacking my lips open softly. “It smells like raspberries, I’m glad you noticed, you’ve been so nice to me, mister Cill.”

As I was pretending to talk to him, I only noticed how ridiculous I looked, it made my flaws become more prominent. I ran the water and put it up to my lips and wiped the lip gloss off of it, I threw it in my shower bin. I looked at my arm. No guy is gonna like a girl with scars, you’re gonna end up alone, alone with your old man.

My father’s voice cried in my head. I looked up at the mirror, I felt this knot in my throat as well as my chest, it felt ugly, it feels like this ugly thing I can’t seem to get down, I feel- I feel like I need to throw up. I turned around to get my clothes for today, a beige skirt with long white baggy leg warmers, a long sleeve dull green shirt with a dull brown hoodie. Just what I needed for a dull and windy spring day.

I walked out of the bathroom and into the hallway, I stared at the end of it, the silence made my ears ring and the dimness of the hall made my eyes adjust to the emptiness. I walked to my room to get my bag, as well as my books, and even that journal. Maybe I could write in it on the bus ride to school. I guess I could use that to pass the hour-long ride ahead. I took the blue book and shoved it into my bag and walked out, and down the creaky stairs. I walked past the kitchen, and stopped. I looked to see that the table was pushed on its side against the wall, a crack from the collision showed itself, and broken glass everywhere, and the pot spilt on the counter. I could still remember the sounds of the banging, and how hard I screamed. How hard he screamed.

I continued walking into the living room, to see my father sleeping on the couch. Ever since mom died, he refused to go into their room. I took the blanket off the floor and put it over him, his soft snoring being heard as I walked out the front door. I stepped onto the sidewalk and turned right, walking to the bus stop.

I opened my journal to the first page, I uncapped my pen and I wrote my name on the other side of the cover.

Suzie Ciel Slate

February 12th, 2009.

Dear journal, there are times where I think my father can be capable of loving me back, in his sober days they are the shortest, and in the drunk ones, they are the longest. There is no such thing as warmth between me and him, it’s either hot or cold, when at most times I wish there was no option at all. I feel abandoned, by the death of one parent, and the soon-death of another, I feel so unimportant, and irrelevant to my father, it feels like I am someone who came along in his life that put a damn in his path, and I feel that because of me, his death was delayed. And, because of that I myself feel that I should bring my own death quicker, he’s dying. I know that. And, when he dies, I’ll be alone. I chose to be selfish and it only damned me more, the worst times when he drinks is when he thinks that I’m mom. And, when he thinks I’m mom, I become not a daughter, but his ‘Wife’.

Since it started, I start my nights with crying, and end them by falling asleep. It makes me question who or what I am to him, what I mean to him. ‘Oh, Sara…’ I hear when he opens my bedroom door. I even would tie my shorts as tight as I could, but my struggles made him more vigorous. Now, when I watch porn, I can’t get into the mood as I wanted to, it’s only when I’d search for the older men option, or the daddy daughter search, I knew something was wrong with me.

Has my body started wanting it? The sex? The fear, yet the comfort of an older man’s touch? Does my body know what I want? Or is it because of what I want, that it only wants it more? With these questions unanswered, they lead to self-disgust, and the ugly thing inside of me grows more. It’s hungry all the time, and I’m scared of that.

Not the hunger, but of what can fill it. I feel like a stranger to myself, I feel like I am the only stranger, and the world around me, I feel like they know every little thing. Every thought, every moment I spend alone, every desire, every… every moan. I feel like I’m in a blind room, but the other side of the wall is transparent.

I want to become a ghost, so that maybe… so that maybe I can start being the pupil to strangers, so I myself won’t be a stranger anymore. I want a hug. A warm hug that I can soak my tears into a man’s cardigan, so I can wail into a man’s chest so it won’t be so loud, too passionate. I feel like a dull fire, and I need to be ignited.

I look up hearing the front door opening, everyone getting up to walk out of the school bus, I stand up before putting my journal in my bag. “Your shoes are untied.” A boy told me, pointing at my shoes. I looked up, “I noticed.” I mumble, walking behind him. I walked slowly, I looked outside the windows to see a crowd building up at the entrance, I looked ahead and as I lifted my foot up it got stuck, I gasped before I fell hard on my knees, “You alright there?” I heard the bus driver ask. She must’ve heard the collision behind her.

I steady myself on my feet, looking at the harsh scrapes on my knees, it was bleeding a little, but I doubt it will drip. “I’m fine.” I answer, wiping my knees with my right sleeve. I stood up and started walking again, the crowd grew smaller I noticed before walking out of the bus. “You okay? I kinda saw you fall in there, looks like it was kinda bad.” A girl asked me, gesturing towards my knees, I looked up and said, “Yea, I’m fine.”

“I’m Laura, what’s your name?” Laura asked, she tucked her reddish-blondish hair behind her ear. “I’m Suzie.” I introduced myself, “You new?” She asked, I nodded. “What class you in?” She asked. I was about to reach for my schedule in my bag, but then I remembered that Mr. Cill kept it, I forgot to take it back, shit. I tried to remember the room number on the top of my head. “I think 201, Mr. Cill.”

“That’s 202, it’s my homeroom class too. When I saw what Mr. Cill looked like, I knew it was going to be a good year, all year all I can do is just flutter my eyes towards him, or just stare but that’s all. I don’t even think he’s married.” Laura told me as we both walked towards the entrance. I nodded my head with each moment she paused to think and what to say. It looks like she has liked him for a while. She seemed to have this flexible demeanor, I could tell she was independent, and knew what to say and how to say it well. Learning this made me feel glad to have talked to her.

Hopefully since I have it won’t be as hard being new in this class, or school for that matter. “Do you know where your locker is?” She asked, I nodded my head. “Okay, well I’ll see you in class.” We separated our ways. I looked around the filled hallways to see a clock at least anywhere, but unfortunately there were none. How am I supposed to know when the bell is about to ring?

I walked up the steps to the second floor, I think my locker was on my left, if I remember. I mean, it’d make sense if my locker was near my homeroom. I turned left and started walking, seeing my homeroom at the end of the hall. By now the halls were starting to clear, but some people were still hanging around in different spots. I looked at the rows of lockers and numbers, and saw mine, 455.

I clipped it open and brought my bag up, I opened it and it just showed a scarf, my journal and a pencil case. I didn’t think to put any of that in my locker, so instead I took out the subject books out of my locker and held it in my arms, closing it I walked in my classroom, Mr. Cill writing on the board, and many teens sitting and leaning closer to talk to their friends.

I continued walking, even with my heart pounding. Being new to a school is always scary, not knowing how anyone is going to treat you, it’s only when you learn how they -are- going to treat you, you become less scared, and just more used to it. I sat at the only empty desk, and that was on the third row down, and on the left corner, I was distant from Mr. Cill, but maybe that was a good thing.

I looked around to see Laura from earlier, she was in the front, writing in her own journal, hers was green. I placed my books on my desk and looked ahead to see Mr. Cill turning around. He also seemed to be looking around until he made eye contact with me, he smiled and nodded as a gesture to saying hi, and I did the same. “If everyone could sit in their seats and be quiet that would be great!” He exclaimed. Everyone did what he said, they all sat down and some laughed at his sarcasm. “Thanks guys, you’re an awesome crowd. Okay, so, as you may or may not know, we always start our mornings with a journaling prompt, as you can see…” He turned around to reveal what he wrote on the board which read, Where Are You Most Happiest?

“Where are you most happiest? You can give me any answer, I don’t care if it’s even a bathroom stall in a 7/11, just write down the place, and tell me why, don’t even just give me one simple answer, tell me why it makes you so happy. You can choose to read it aloud to the class, or you can give it to me at the end of the day for me to read it myself, alright? I’ll start the 10 minute timer…” Mr. Cill sat down at his desk, clicking on the laptop. “And, go.”

I looked around to see that some girls and guys were thinking, and most were writing. I looked down at my journal and opened it, I opened my pencil case and took out my pen, I went to the 4th page, and during this I began to wonder when the last time I really felt happy. Where I felt like this happy feeling would have lasted forever.

And so, I began to write.

I am most happiest in a movie theatre, in movie theatres, I feel like it’s somewhere that’s not home, or at school, but a place to bring your home there. My parents bringed me there to see Toy Story 2, my mother loved doing that because even herself liked watching cartoons, I would laugh with her, even if it meant that some scenes weren’t that funny to me, because her laughs meant everything to me, and that could only mean that my laughs meant everything to her. It was only in those times that laughter was the only drug that meant to her, it was the only time that I felt more important, and because of that, the theatre was not just a placeholder, but a place giver. Sometimes I go to the theatre, and sit in the same seats as we did the years before, just so I could reminisce about the times I felt most happiest. But as of now, the emptiness is now just a place where I feel most saddest.

“Okay! Pen and pencils down, close your journals, I will call on you and you can read it, or you can just tell me that you’ll give it to me after class. Okay? Who wants to go first- okay Laura, go on.”

I looked at Laura who stood up after reaching her hand up, she cleared her throat and read, “I am really happy when I am at the mall, because the mall is never a bad experience, I can pick out what I want to buy, the mall to me is like a treasure, because you can kind of predict what’s in a treasure chest. Since there’s no change in routine, I feel safe because I know where I’m going, and sometimes I feel like I don’t know where I’m going in life, so I go to the mall and it reassures me kind of, like riding a bike with training wheels. The mall to me is like a peak of what life may or may not be like for me, it’s better than not knowing at all.” She looked up from her journal, “Okay, well personally for me I think it’s where my wallet feels most saddest.” Mr. Cill said, the majority of the class laughed a little as did I, and Laura sat back down. “It’s good, I like it, I mean, I was there yesterday, I rarely go but I guess I can see why you like it so much, Laura.”

“Thanks, Mr. Cill.” She said, tilting her head. I looked down and smiled a little in amusement, Mr. Cill seemed laid back, and he seemed really nice, gentle, serious demeanor but it was comforting. His traits made me feel grateful for having him as my teacher. I’m glad about that. Truly.

The majority of the class had gone, some decided the 2nd option, but most read out loud, “Okay, Suzie, would you like to read yours?” I shook my head. “No thanks.” I said, and he nodded his head. “Okay, just give it to me after lunch.” I nodded and he turned back around and erased the board. “Okay, so as I told you guys on Monday that we’re having a standard spelling test, we have it once a month, and some…”

Time passed on, it was kind of fast for me today, but we moved from subject to subject. I even hope that I had a passing grade on my spelling too. The clock seemed to move faster every time I looked at Mr. Cill, time became slow when he looked at me back, and everytime he did that we’d stare at each other for a moment before I looked down at my desk feeling all warm inside. Sometimes I’d look back up to see him smiling a little more before it would die down again as he continued teaching. The cycle continued until the bell rang for lunch period.

“Make sure you give me your journals for those who didn’t read out loud today!” He exclaimed as everyone was leaving. I took my book and walked up to him, “Here.” I mumbled as I raised my journal. He softly took it and smiled, “Which page should I go to? I mean, I assume you wrote in it when you went home.” He asked, oh right. “Oh, just go to the fourth page.” I explained, he nodded and put it on top of everyone else’s. “Did you like the prompt today?” He asked, I smiled and nodded. “That’s good, really good.” He said as he leaned back in his chair. “Come here when school ends, I’ve got something for you.”

I smiled and tilted my head, “What is it?” I asked, he shook his head and raised his hands. “Well, I’m not gonna tell you, go on, go eat, it’s a surprise.” I scoff playfully as he grinned, “I’ll see you later.” “I know you will.” He replied as I turned around. I shook my head smiling, walking out. That’s when time became real slow again, it made me so curious, nervous and a little excited. I mean, it’s been so long since, well, since I gotten anything really. I can only hope he didn’t spend any money, or as little as possible, I’d feel guilty.