Innocence: A Question

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
He wrote a poem
And he called it “Innocence: A Question”
Because that was the question about his boy
And that’s what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
And a strange steady look
And his mother never hung in on the kitchen door
Because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he caught his sister
Making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
Or even talked
And the boy around the corner
Smoked too many cigarettes
That made him cough when he kissed him
But he kissed him anyway
Because it was the thing to do
And at 3 A.M. he tucked himself into bed
His father snoring loudly
~~~~~~~~
Alex awkwardly stands at the front of his class, as he waits for his college professor to acknowledge his existence. He’s holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. It’s covered in half-erased words and messily scrawled handwriting to cover it up.
It’s another poem, equally as bad as the rest in Alex’s eyes. He’d worked on it all night wording and re-wording, arranging and re-arranging but never sounded good enough. He isn’t really sure why he’s continued on the path of creative writing when all it does is create stress and another piece of him that he’ll be embarrassed about the few seconds after it’s in someone else’s hands.
“Can I help you, Alexander?” Mr. Ross asks.
Alex cringes at the use of his full name. No one, not even his parents when they’re mad, calls him by Alexander. He’s always been just Alex and he wants it to stay that way.
“Um, yeah,” Alex says nervously, “I can’t stay for the lecture because I have a funeral to go to, but I thought I’d give you the poem that’s due today.”
His teacher takes the crumpled paper from his sweaty hands and reads it over. The words on the page run through Alex’s head as fresh eyes scan over it, and he can’t help but to wonder what’s being thought of it.
Innocence: A Question
Alexander Gaskarth
I watched you put the cigarette between your teeth
And welcome the toxic air with open arms
I remember when the cancer stick was wrapped in Hello Kitty
And the toxicants was a puff of sugar that didn’t even go into your mouth
I remember how scared your mother had been when you’d done it
And I wonder how she feels now that the candy impersonator has been switched to the real thing
And then your lips pressed to mine
And I can taste the vile thing in the corners of your mouth
And I know you’re killing yourself
But I also know that you don’t care
And I know that your lips have kissed many other willing partners
And I know that drunken nights with other boys
Doing all sorts of things I wouldn’t let you do to me
Were filling up your nights
And all the while I told myself you were mine and no one else’s
That I was good enough to be the only one to see you like that
But I knew I wasn’t
But I let you kiss me anyways
Hoping that maybe my lips will be enough to hold you together this time
But it never is
Because a kiss can’t heal the broken when the innocence is gone
Alex nervously wrings his hands together as Mr. Ross looks up at him. His leathery face wrinkles as it moves to create a stiff version of a look of some sort of emotion that Alex can’t place. He marks the crumpled paper with an A and tells Alex he can leave.
Alex walks outside, where two cars are waiting for him. One belongs to his mother, the other his father. His father is leaning against the front of his car and his mother is standing next to hers with a small smile on her face that widens when she sees Alex.
His heart aches. Didn’t she know that’s the same look dad has always given her? Alex thinks.
His saving grace is three parking spots over, resting against the side of an old beat up car that threatens to break down with every jerk of the wheel. He has a cigarette between his lips and is dressed rather casually to be going to a funeral.
He shoots his parents a forced smile before he’s taking off down the parking lot. He practically leaps on Jack when he reaches him, arms around Jack’s neck, ankles hooked around his claves, face buried in the space where his shoulder and neck meet.
“Thank you for this,” he mumbles as Jack’s arms wrap around his waist.
“Don’t mention it; I figured you wouldn’t want to be caught up in their post-divorce drama.”
Alex nods as he releases Jack from his hold. He walks around the car to get into the passenger seat. They’re both silent on the way to the funeral.
They sit in front of the building and look up at it. Alex’s body begins to feel like lead and takes all of his energy to not let his head drop forward.
“Are you ready for this?” Jack asks in the quiet of the car.
Alex shakes his head.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever ready for this,” he says softly.
Jack leans over and takes Alex’s hand in his.
“Don’t be sad, ‘Lex,” he says, using the nickname that only he uses for him, “I don’t think Father Tracy would’ve wanted you to be sad.”
The words of comfort only push Alex to tears.
~~~~~~~~~
That night, Jack drops Alex off at home. Before leaving, he’s given a sloppy kiss tinted with cigarette smoke. Alex holds in his coughs before Jack is gone, because the last time he’d done it in front of him caused an argument that he isn’t really sure he understands how it started.
He watches Jack’s car leave and flinches at the noise it makes as it chugs down the street. Once he’s out of sight, he can’t help but wonder who will be in his lover’s bed tonight.
Alex tilts his head back to the rest it against the chipping paint of his parent’s house. He’s not sure how long he stands there, staring at the stars and wishing for some kind of miracle; for Jack to stay and find another way to satisfy himself in a way that didn’t involve replacing Alex every night, but it’s long enough for Lucy to come home, and have her breast groped by a strange man’s hand.
He watches their lips mold together and listens to the whispers of love. He stands there, shell shocked and unable to look away though it makes his stomach churn.
Eventually their lips pull apart with a crude popping noise that Alex can hear from where he stands. Lucy makes her way to the front porch where Alex stands, with a small dopey smile on her face. It quickly vanishes when she sees Alex.
“Oh,” she squeaks out.
“What the hell?” Alex asks, mortification seeping through his words, “Luce, you’re eleven! How old was that man?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she snaps.
Alex grips at the ends of his hair in frustration.
“What do you mean it ‘doesn’t matter?’” he demands.
Lucy shoves past him and walks inside, slamming the door behind her. Alex leans his forehead to the closed door and groans.
~~~~~~~
It’s past three in the morning, and Alex is lying on his bed. He can hear his father’s snores from downstairs and wishes he could be the one snoring.
The house feels empty without his mom. He only has the weekends with her, but they feel empty too because his dad isn’t there.
The empty houses give him time and silence to think, an activity he’s come to hate. His mind fills with arguments, wonders of why Jack doesn’t think he’s good enough, wonders of why his old friends are now like strangers.
He wonders how Rian is doing with his new girlfriend. Alex only gets to see him when they’re having problems, because Sierra doesn’t like him. He wonders how Zack’s new school is going, because he’s stopped calling; he’s even stopped texting. He wonders if his mother knows his father still loves her. He wonders if she secretly feels guilty for cheating. He wonders is Lucy will live just to throw herself into the grasp of much older men. He wonders if one day, she’ll deny the man that claims to love her and he’ll devour her whole. He doesn’t want to live to see it.
Alex sits up and grabs an old paper brown bag from the floor, and decides to try another poem.
Absolutely Nothing
Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
He wrote a poem
And he called it ‘Chops’
Because that was the name of his dog
And that’s what it was all about
His teacher gave him an a and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
And read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
With tiny nails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the boy around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X’s
And he had to ask his father what the X’s meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
He wrote a poem
He called it ‘Autumn’
Because that was the name of the season
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
And asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
Because of the new paint
And the kids told him
That Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they should burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
With thick lenses and black frames
And the boy around the corner laughed
When he asked him to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
His mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
When he cried for him to do it
Once on a paper torn from his notebook
He wrote a poem
And he called it “Innocence: A Question”
Because that was the question about his boy
And that’s what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
And a strange steady look
And his mother never hung in on the kitchen door
Because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he caught his sister
Making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
Or even talked
And the boy around the corner
Smoked too many cigarettes
That made him cough when he kissed him
But he kissed him anyway
Because it was the thing to do
And at 3 A.M. he tucked himself into bed
His father snoring loudly
That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag
He tried another poem
And he called it “Absolutely Nothing”
Because that’s what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
And a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
Because this time he didn’t think
He could reach the kitchen
Alex places the poem on his bed before reaching under it and pulling out his phone. He makes a group message consisting of his mom, father, Zack, Rian, Lucy and of course, Jack. He sends one simple word.
Goodbye.