04-10-2013, 09:45 PM
There was a brown recluse spider in the shower
.....the last time I saw his daughter
.........alive.
...I went out early,
.......and left her there,
..........feeling she would be fine, she’d always been fine.
....I was sixteen, and she was twelve…
....but the high school boys teased her,
....they all wanted her,
she easily could’ve passed for fourteen.
Prettier than most of the girls in our school.
Her father knew how men thought about her:
..She was clearly adult in the face,
..the knowing in her eyes;
....only her skin looked innocent.
But I was the one he trusted,
....I was the son he’d never had.
He could see,
...and he always watched,
the respect I held for his daughter.
I’d think to myself sometimes as I tried to sleep at night,
.maybe he’d decided on me as a suitable mate for her.
I thought the word ‘mate’;
.I admit, it thrilled me to think with that word.
Though I meant ‘husband’.
And I thought too much;
...many boys older than me
......had tried
.....and got nowhere with Nicole,
. her name was Nicole.
..I never think of her with her name anymore.
I was there most days after school,
he wanted me to keep an eye on her,
....and that I did.
..She always took a shower when she got home,
and made sure to stalk around the kitchen
....in her bathrobe,
where I could see from the living room.
.....Her hair damp and I could smell it,
......the robe loose, obviously nothing under it.
Most of the time she acted oblivious,
.but once she caught me staring at her
as she had been kneeling, brushing crumbs into a dustpan.
.And she smiled the way she smiled at the older boys
..who openly expressed their interest.
...We never spoke: and with that knowing in her eyes,
I knew she wouldn’t tell her father.
....On the day she died,
I was sick, and let myself in before school let out.
...I was waiting for her to come,
..I planned on telling her I was sick, and would be leaving
early.
I used the bathroom a lot of times; like I said, I was sick.
At last, I pulled the shower curtain back
and saw the spider crawling along the ring in the tub.
The room smelled like her.
The brush with strands of her curly red hair.
In my sickness, the small beige tub had spots like the freckles on
her chest.
So I left before she ever came.
Went home and slept;
if I dreamed of anything, it wasn’t about her.
...A little after seven, the boy next door raped and killed her.
............Her father was inconsolably crushed;
.....but as far as I can tell,
.....................to this day,
.............he doesn’t hold anything against me.
.....the last time I saw his daughter
.........alive.
...I went out early,
.......and left her there,
..........feeling she would be fine, she’d always been fine.
....I was sixteen, and she was twelve…
....but the high school boys teased her,
....they all wanted her,
she easily could’ve passed for fourteen.
Prettier than most of the girls in our school.
Her father knew how men thought about her:
..She was clearly adult in the face,
..the knowing in her eyes;
....only her skin looked innocent.
But I was the one he trusted,
....I was the son he’d never had.
He could see,
...and he always watched,
the respect I held for his daughter.
I’d think to myself sometimes as I tried to sleep at night,
.maybe he’d decided on me as a suitable mate for her.
I thought the word ‘mate’;
.I admit, it thrilled me to think with that word.
Though I meant ‘husband’.
And I thought too much;
...many boys older than me
......had tried
.....and got nowhere with Nicole,
. her name was Nicole.
..I never think of her with her name anymore.
I was there most days after school,
he wanted me to keep an eye on her,
....and that I did.
..She always took a shower when she got home,
and made sure to stalk around the kitchen
....in her bathrobe,
where I could see from the living room.
.....Her hair damp and I could smell it,
......the robe loose, obviously nothing under it.
Most of the time she acted oblivious,
.but once she caught me staring at her
as she had been kneeling, brushing crumbs into a dustpan.
.And she smiled the way she smiled at the older boys
..who openly expressed their interest.
...We never spoke: and with that knowing in her eyes,
I knew she wouldn’t tell her father.
....On the day she died,
I was sick, and let myself in before school let out.
...I was waiting for her to come,
..I planned on telling her I was sick, and would be leaving
early.
I used the bathroom a lot of times; like I said, I was sick.
At last, I pulled the shower curtain back
and saw the spider crawling along the ring in the tub.
The room smelled like her.
The brush with strands of her curly red hair.
In my sickness, the small beige tub had spots like the freckles on
her chest.
So I left before she ever came.
Went home and slept;
if I dreamed of anything, it wasn’t about her.
...A little after seven, the boy next door raped and killed her.
............Her father was inconsolably crushed;
.....but as far as I can tell,
.....................to this day,
.............he doesn’t hold anything against me.