LXXVII | Something's Erased

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I wake up trying to remember yesterday—
trying to remember

what’s so important

about
yesterday.

Tammie sighs
(it stinks)

and goosebumps rise

along my collarbone.

I peel myself
away

from her.

It was hot last night.
The sheets are damp.

She opens her eyes
when I move.

Her apologetic smile

makes me

feel hot again.

No matter
how much I practice

I can’t paint

her smile right.

All my portraits of her
look like they’re of someone else

with the real Tammie here.

She stretches,
yawns.

I hug her. She

pats my back
awkwardly.

Don’t leave, I whisper.

She giggles
and her bones

poke me

in familiar places.

 

I look for Asher
without meaning to.

He’s gone.

There’s a fat guy I don’t recognise.

He’s the only one eating,
food enveloped

in his pudgy hands.

His glazed eyes

meet mine as I walk by

but I don’t think
he really sees me.

 

So that’s why
yesterday

was important—

Asher’s

disappeared this time.

My hand
tightens

over Tammie’s.

Her apologetic smile
grows.

She sits

where she belongs

on the arm
of my chair.

I lean against her.

She wraps her hand
around my neck,

rubbing the skin over my windpipe,

tickling my chin.

I don’t want to get up.

The angmoh nurse
doesn’t scare me anymore.

Tammie leans away though,

gives me a look.

Chiding.
Promising.

 

I’ll be here.

 

My heart’s about to burst
with happiness.

I take my medicine
quickly,

eager to return to her.

Soon,
medicine time is over.

‘Breakfast?’
I ask her.

She shakes her head.

As always.

‘Come on,’ I beg.

She remains firm.

I ask her
what she’ll do today.

I hope

she’s won’t practice.

I want her
to spend it with me.

An apologetic smile.

 

Practice.

 

‘Can I watch?’

She shakes her head.
Tells me to paint a better picture.

All the ones I’ve done so far

are not good enough
to sell
when we get out of here.

Tammie remembers

our dream.

I smother my smile
by pulling my lips into a serious line.

Our future
that I thought

was gone

forever.

 

It might still be
gone.

I contemplate the possibility

as she disappears
into the studio
without looking back.

If it happens,

we should
feel the same.

Compromise.

Think it through.

But she’s just walking away
even though I

need

her to touch me
more.

 

All the fullness
in my chest

drains

like rain in a longkang.

I pad
the empty space

with tissue.

Stuff it full.

I’m
the only one fooled.

Paint.

I turn to the window.
My easel. My paints. My paintbrushes.

Asher’s not around

to get me
a new canvas,

I have to do it myself.

 

There’s nothing there.

The black word
JERK

I etched on the carpet.

The spatters of paint
from yesterday

(and the day before and the day before).

The carpet is beige
like the rest

of the main hall.

Like I haven’t been painting here.

 

But I have.

 

The paintings
bluetacked
in my bedroom

are proof.

Something happened
yesterday.

My presence here

has been erased.

Why?

Tammie says
it’s not possible

but I’m thinking…

it’s definitely
related

to Asher’s disappearance.

Are they
responsible?

Tammie said no,
Tammie said no.

They made a mistake

this time though.

 

There is
only

so much

you can
erase.

 

 

 

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