Do you know what it's like to fall on the floor and cry your guts out 'til you got no more.
She guesses she's glad she doesn't have anyone to tell her it'll be all right. It won't, so she's kind of glad no one is there to lie to her.
That's what he said. No one was going to care about the little orphan. She figures he was lying, but then again...
She goes to class the next day like nothing is wrong. She sits in her seat and she reads the text and she raises her hand to answer the questions and she's fine. She's always fine. She wants to cry every time he breaths, but she doesn't, she just sits and reads and raises her hand and she's fine.
At the café she passes out. Only not really. She can hear Paul asking her who the Governor of Texas is and she half wants to ask him why she would ever know that but her tongue doesn't work and she can't open her eyes. Who is the Governor of Texas, anyway? She'll have to look it up when she's no longer half unconscious.
Paul says she'll be okay. She wants to cry.
She's back in class the next day and Paul sits next to her because he thinks she might pass out again. She tells him not to be silly and gives him a halfhearted glare from behind glasses she hasn't worn since she was fourteen. He stares back and passes her the charcoal.
At the café Paul buys her a water, diet please. He says it's so she doesn't pass out again. She tells him to shut up and asks him who the Governor of Texas is. He tells her he doesn't know, but his Dad is a doctor and that's what he asked people. She reminds him that they live in Rhode Island.
She asks if she can meet his dad.
She's back in class the next day and Paul is already sitting down in her seat. He's crafty that one, so she sits next to him. Rick Perry, she tells him and he looks at her and shrugs. Now he'll know next time, she thinks, and promptly starts to cry, ruining her sketch and starting over like it's fine. At least her mascara is black too.
They forgo the café and she meets his Dad. He scares her a little. He's big, tall and he's built like a linebacker. She wonders if he played football and how tiny skinny Paul came from him. His mother must be anorexic, she decides. She'll call her Mrs Barbie.
Mr Barbie tells her she'll be okay and she wants to cry.
The next day, Paul holds the back of her chair while she draws. He doesn't touch her and she's half grateful, but half the opposite of grateful. Grate-nonexistant? Grate-less? Grate-empty? Whatever, she's it. She only cries a little when the teacher leans down next to her and asks her to stay after. She can't, Paul says. And that's that.
They stop at their café on the way to his Dad's. He orders a water, diet please, and then a donut. She's not Mrs Barbie. Paul doesn't wait in the waiting room like he's supposed to and he holds her hand as her throat finally starts to work again. It hurts, but his hand is warm and an anchor.
He tells her she's going to be okay and she believes him.
The next day she sits alone and finishes her piece. It's black and white and speckled with tears and she doesn't have the energy to pass it in. She doesn't want him to touch it, to judge it, she doesn't even want him to see it. So she rolls it up and slides a rubber band around it and walks out before class ends. She was always a little bit rude like that.
She sits at the café and orders herself a water, diet please, and she unrolls her sketch. Starting at the top she tears it down the middle and then tears it again. When her drink is half empty, she stops and puts the pieces into the glass, watching the charcoal melt into the water like running mascara.
He said no one would care when he was gone. She doesn't think he was telling the truth, but she makes him a liar just in case.
She knows what it's like not to have anyone tell her it's going to be all right. So she sits next to Mr Barbie at the funeral and lies like he lied to her because she knows what it's like.
That's what he said. No one was going to care about the little orphan. She figures he was lying, but then again...
She goes to class the next day like nothing is wrong. She sits in her seat and she reads the text and she raises her hand to answer the questions and she's fine. She's always fine. She wants to cry every time he breaths, but she doesn't, she just sits and reads and raises her hand and she's fine.
At the café she passes out. Only not really. She can hear Paul asking her who the Governor of Texas is and she half wants to ask him why she would ever know that but her tongue doesn't work and she can't open her eyes. Who is the Governor of Texas, anyway? She'll have to look it up when she's no longer half unconscious.
Paul says she'll be okay. She wants to cry.
She's back in class the next day and Paul sits next to her because he thinks she might pass out again. She tells him not to be silly and gives him a halfhearted glare from behind glasses she hasn't worn since she was fourteen. He stares back and passes her the charcoal.
At the café Paul buys her a water, diet please. He says it's so she doesn't pass out again. She tells him to shut up and asks him who the Governor of Texas is. He tells her he doesn't know, but his Dad is a doctor and that's what he asked people. She reminds him that they live in Rhode Island.
She asks if she can meet his dad.
She's back in class the next day and Paul is already sitting down in her seat. He's crafty that one, so she sits next to him. Rick Perry, she tells him and he looks at her and shrugs. Now he'll know next time, she thinks, and promptly starts to cry, ruining her sketch and starting over like it's fine. At least her mascara is black too.
They forgo the café and she meets his Dad. He scares her a little. He's big, tall and he's built like a linebacker. She wonders if he played football and how tiny skinny Paul came from him. His mother must be anorexic, she decides. She'll call her Mrs Barbie.
Mr Barbie tells her she'll be okay and she wants to cry.
The next day, Paul holds the back of her chair while she draws. He doesn't touch her and she's half grateful, but half the opposite of grateful. Grate-nonexistant? Grate-less? Grate-empty? Whatever, she's it. She only cries a little when the teacher leans down next to her and asks her to stay after. She can't, Paul says. And that's that.
They stop at their café on the way to his Dad's. He orders a water, diet please, and then a donut. She's not Mrs Barbie. Paul doesn't wait in the waiting room like he's supposed to and he holds her hand as her throat finally starts to work again. It hurts, but his hand is warm and an anchor.
He tells her she's going to be okay and she believes him.
The next day she sits alone and finishes her piece. It's black and white and speckled with tears and she doesn't have the energy to pass it in. She doesn't want him to touch it, to judge it, she doesn't even want him to see it. So she rolls it up and slides a rubber band around it and walks out before class ends. She was always a little bit rude like that.
She sits at the café and orders herself a water, diet please, and she unrolls her sketch. Starting at the top she tears it down the middle and then tears it again. When her drink is half empty, she stops and puts the pieces into the glass, watching the charcoal melt into the water like running mascara.
He said no one would care when he was gone. She doesn't think he was telling the truth, but she makes him a liar just in case.
She knows what it's like not to have anyone tell her it's going to be all right. So she sits next to Mr Barbie at the funeral and lies like he lied to her because she knows what it's like.