Читать книгу Gabi, a Girl in Pieces - Isabel Quintero - Страница 35

October 20

Since it’s getting close to Halloween, Ms. Abernard assigned us to read about horror, death, ghosts and other stuff related to Halloween—but not really, because if she said it was about Halloween, she could get in trouble. Which is totally stupid. On the plus side, the poems we have been reading are really good. We read “The Raven,” by Edgar Allen Poe, which we read last year but is still good this year, and we have been reading poems by Sylvia Plath. Sylvia Plath is very dark and always talking about death and suicide. I love it. My favorite poem so far is, “Lady Lazarus.” It’s about her trying to kill herself three times and coming back to life just like Lazarus in the Bible—each time another miracle. Except unlike Lazarus, Sylvia doesn’t seem to be happy about her return.

Before Ms. Abernard assigned it, I knew what was coming. We have to write a poem about one of the themes we have been reading about. We have already been writing short poems and free writes. Of course Martin already wrote an entire poem about ghosts and death that was brilliant. I think I am going to write about my grandfather who passed away. I miss my abuelito so much. I think about him every day. I can’t believe it has already been a year since he died. Tonight when I get home, I will get crackalackin on it.

This is my favorite part of “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath because she sounds so ballsy—she tells God and Satan to beware! What the hell! Ugh. So good.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Beware

Beware.

Later that night…

My dad—who had only this morning been passed out on the living room floor—announced that he was going to sober up. He took us all into the living room and had a meeting and told us he was sorry and that he’s tired of living to get high, and he wants to be a better husband, father and brother. Tía Bertha swore that his decision was due to her healing powers. “I knew it! Just last night, I felt the hot tongues of the Holy Spirit tickling my ears and then a sudden rush of fire like waves overcame my entire body! This morning I woke up and knew that I had the power to change you, little brother.” We all just rolled our eyes but didn’t say anything to her. Though I am incredibly happy with my dad’s decision, I am also not getting my hopes up—this is not the first time he’s tried to quit. But I didn’t say anything to discourage him. We all (well, not Beto really) show our support. This time though it feels different. It feels final. So I am going to write him another letter.

Dear Papi,

I am so excited that you have decided to get sober! You have tried this before, but this time I know things will be different. I can feel it. Not in the way that tía Bertha claims to feel things, but deep inside. Things will be hard for a while, and you will probably suffer, but I think it will all be worth it. Life will definitely not be like it used to be. I don’t remember a time when you weren’t an addict, but Mami does and she says you were an awesome man. I know that when you’re not using, you’re an amazing person. You’re funny and caring and a good person. I can’t wait to see you like that all the time. It will be a big change for all of us. But a good change. Maybe when you’re clean, you can have a better relationship with Beto. He loves you so much even though you always push him away. Why do you push him away? Is it because he’s like you? Stubborn, good hearted, prideful, sensitive and quiet? Maybe. Whatever the reasons, I know things will be different once you’re clean. Father and son will get along better and we can grow as a family.

I love you, Papi.

Gabi

Maybe when he’s clean I can read him that one.