My father bent the waves for the month I lived with him. Radiant energy left me and bounced off him with a flat tone. It was as if nothing had ever happened between us before, and now he acknowledged almost no present relationship.
The pressure of this non-existent relationship sent me scampering back for the company of Sasifraz. Sasifraz’s response was simple, “Oh come now, dear, you knew you were alone.” The act of being alone even when another person is in the same room—eating dinner with him, driving with him, shopping with him—left me with nothing other than my own painful thoughts.
Kantor appeared to be no help at all. I could talk to her, but I always had to return home alone to play my guitar and day dream of a better life. In school, I was still doing splendidly until one day in science class. I had an egotistical teacher who was into totalitarianism reminiscent of my father by the name of Perferment.
In class one afternoon, being in a particularly foul mood, he offered to kick out anyone who was interested. Sitting atop his stool he declared, “I just want you to know that I’ve kicked out somebody from every class today.” Waving his pink permit slips in the air he asked, “Which one of you would like to be kicked out? It would save me trouble to find out who it’s gonna be now.”
In that moment, I had enough of Perferment’s bullshit and raised my hand, “Me! I’ll go.”
The shocked room froze. Perferment whipped out a permit slip so fast it made my head spin. Having never been kicked out before, off I went down the hall to see Kantor. At least, that part was familiar.
* * * * * * *
Kantor was not amused. She asked me what had happened. I told her. Kantor asked why I did it. I said it was spontaneous and likened it to arm cutting. Kantor’s response was that she thought it was even more destructive.
(I was always confused by that response. Perhaps, I heard her wrong. If anything, I thought it was an improvement.)
Nevertheless, Kantor had an inside track on the Perferment situation and told me to just go to the library for a couple of days. It turned out Perferment was fired that week. (For other rumored behavior.) On the day Kantor insisted I go back to class, it was announced over the loud speaker that I was chosen April Girl of the Month.
It was a proud moment for me. I had never been particularly socially successful in school. It gave me a little boost for the next couple days. Boosts were something I could always use.
* * * * * * *
I composed my first song on the guitar after being chosen April Girl of the Month. It expressed my pain and hope. I kept myself company at home by singing in a large hallway mirror. Kantor was all I felt I had then, and the song was directed at her.
“April showers bring May flowers. April showers bring May flowers. And, I am the April girl that you see crying, ‘cause April showers bring May flowers.
“I wonder if my tears will bring the flowers. I wonder if the flowers will ever come at all. ‘Cause I am the April girl that you see crying, and April showers bring May flowers.
“I wait for the flowers in all their beauty. Waiting for them all to spring up around me. ‘Cause I am the April girl that you see crying, and April showers bring May flowers.
“I’ve fallen in love as I wait for the flowers. I only hope my love will stay when the flowers come. ‘Cause I am the April girl that you see crying, and April showers bring May flowers.”
(A bit redundant, I admit, but it was my first song.)
* * * * * * *
Arm cutting had been on the forefront of my mind for awhile, but I was terrified of letting my father find out. Helpfully, the Mother-Daughter Tea was a distraction. I was specially invited as a Girl of the Month. I took my father’s girl friend, Fern, as a surrogate mom for which my mother found it difficult to forgive. (Never mind the fact that we weren’t speaking at the time.)
After that event, there was nothing to tie me to the present. I found myself more and more drawn into Sasifraz’s banter until a final culmination of events changed my life forever