All the Eternal Love I Have

"Do you have any resume paper?"
The sound of the text from a former co-worker woke me up.  It was 6:15 in the morning.

I jumped in the car at 4:45 in the morning and drove to my mom's house.  She was having knee replacement surgery and needed to be at the hospital by 5:30.  We arrived on time.  The waiting room was dingy and the fluorescent lights flickered.  Someone had carved their initials (P.J.) in the wood column in the middle of the room.  Someone else added "BLOOD" to the column.  I felt nervous while they wheeled my mom to the back.  I left and drove back to my mom's house to let her dogs out.  One sat by her bedroom door, refusing to move.

"We would like to offer you a position!"  the email read.  I was back at the hospital, in the recovery room with my mom.   I had been unemployed one day.
"Thanks, but I'm good."  I responded.
My phone started blowing up with calls from two other districts.  I felt flattered, but overwhelmed.  I ended up with job interviews scattered throughout my first week out of work, woven between visits to my mom's house to take care of her dogs.  I felt like I had to strike when the iron was hot, but felt like screaming CAN'T YOU ALL JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE???

I sat in the front office of the school, watching a Sheriff deliver papers and parents pick up kids that were being sent home for bad behavior.  A social worker was walking around.
"WHENEVER the doctor makes me take an antibiotic...."  the woman next to me said loudly into her phone.
"He gives me the pill AND the cream.  THAT did not happen.  And NOW, I must see him immediately."
I had never heard a person so publicly discuss a yeast infection in my life.

I sat outside on the patio of a bar with friends, on a school night.  I did not have another interview until 1:30 the next day.  It was nice to be out, to not have to think of teaching school the next day.  To not have to put on my monkey suit job interview costume until later.

I saw a boy riding up in the distance, a boy with cornrows.  I taught him years ago, and several other members of his family.  It was late, but his dad wasn't really known for supervision.

I extended my hand and he stretched out his as he rode by, touching for a second, then he continued into the night.

*Title, derivative of Yayoi Kusama

The Obliteration Room

"When would you be able to start?"  the principal asked me from her perch across the table in the rather dingy room.
"Uhhh...um, I don't know.  Maybe two weeks...."  I responded, eyes on the ground.

My last day of work was last Friday.  I began the process of requesting to be released from my contract two and a half weeks into the school year.  Kitty, I knew I should have told you, but I had to be quiet about it.  And, I'm not sure if I'm even ready to tell you yet.  Less than seventy hours later, I was sitting in front of another principal on a job interview.

I tried to drive back home, but my brain was in a fog.  I was weird on the interview, too.  Mind wandering, kept just answering "Right..." or "I don't know" to questions. I think the word "fuck" mixed in with a couple of my responses.  I was close to my house, then suddenly I was lost, I was on the west side of town instead of my neighborhood.

"Yayoi Kusama lived through the second World War in Japan...."  Lois Reitzes informed me.
"She hallucinated from an early age, her fields of flowers were not a happy memory."
"She tried to kill herself by jumping out of a window...she returned to Japan and still resides in a psychiatric hospital."
The sun was bright.  I kept looping and driving down roads I didn't know, unclear about how I had ended up on Abernathy in the first place.
"We have to give her mother a break, even though she was incredibly violent."
"Her first time at the Venice Biennale, Kusama crashed it by setting up her own exhibit on the lawn outside."

"How did it go?"  my mom's text message asked.
"I don't know...." I said when I called her.
"Pros and cons, I mean, I could work there, it'd be alright."
"Hilary....." my mom started.
I started crying.
"I just want to be an Infinity Room attendant.  I just want to stand there for two months inside of one of Yayoi Kusama's rooms and not say anything.  Just stand there."

"Then," my mom answered, "that is what you should do.".

*Title, Yayoi Kusama

Closer to Heaven

"Mamaaaaa.....bring me some shoes!"  Taisha screamed.  It was 6:50 in the morning and we were walking through the apartments.
"Grandamaaaaa!!!!"  she howled.

Our school has a parent initiated attempt to get the students to walk or ride their bikes to school, instead of taking the bus or riding in a car.  Our district is only four miles wide.  One parent really wants to make sure the children of the Housing Authority are included and arrives at school around 6:30 in the morning, picks up teachers that are willing to be there, and drives us over to the apartments to walk with them to school.

I've been meeting her for over a year.  She ran up to me and hugged me.
"Hey...", I said, putting my coffee cup in the holder of her car, "um, Friday is my last day...I'm leaving....".

Taisha had on cute flats.
"Why didn't you wear tennis shoes?  It's Walk and Roll?"  some of the muslim girls asked.

I work with Taisha after school.  She's in my group.  My fucked up giant group of sixteen.  She's a star.  Immaculate, clothes and hair clean, presenting in the best way.  No one has to know she lives in the projects, because her parents have made sure they don't know.  And, she works and acts accordingly.  Until, Tuesday morning.

"BUY ME SOME FOOD!" Myla screamed as we walked past the gas station.  Another boy grabbed a gas pump and threw it on the ground.

They yelled.  They screamed.  The walked in people's yards.  They talked about the bikes that were unsecured, the houses they would rob.

I worked.  Taught my classes, attended meetings, packed my things.  Felt sweaty and gross all day.  Graded papers. Went back to the Housing Authority that night to tutor.

"They went fucking crazy on the visitors last Friday... screaming, demanding food, grabbing shit.  Their names are on the board."
Out of the sixteen students in my group, ten of their names were on the board.  The ones that were not on the board had been absent.

"You all have debased yourselves."  I said quietly.
"You have acted under what you are."
"No one bangs on the table and begs for food."
"I didn't do that!  It wasn't me!" Zoey and Tamira screamed.
"Did I say Zoey or Tamira?  Whoever did it, I don't want to know.  I don't want to know because I don't want to think of you that way and you're better than that."

I left, feeling tired, dirty and defeated.  Laaida jumped out from behind a neighboring car, all sixth grade of her burka wearing self.
"Hey!  I thought this was your car!" she laughed, even though she was by the wrong car.  The other white teacher's car.
"I wanted to surprise you!"

I watched my students jump on top of a utility box and do our school's chant.  They saw me, and did it louder.  I wanted to film them, send it to my boss, show how great they were.  But, she's a dick and doesn't deserve to see it.

I smiled and clapped, phone in my pocket, and got in Alec's car and drove away.