I Am Water Read online

  Voicemails I Don’t Leave #2

  Horoscope for tomorrow: Time is in the house of your head. Your heart is of its own rising. Do not forget the stars from which you come. But make your own darn future.

  Voicemails I Don’t Leave #3

  And in the end, it comes to this. People are at once endlessly more complicated and remarkably more simple than I ever thought.

  November

  The night of my art show arrives. And no one has seen my new paintings. I holed myself up in my room for the last month to make them after drowning my entire exhibition in the pond at Ezra’s school. I’m wearing a billowy blue dress, a plaid shirt, my usual Converse sneakers, and a nervous smile. One by one, the town piles in. Teachers. Classmates. My river rafting boss. Renny. Sam. They circle the room without speaking. Take in my portraits. Portraits of my water dreams. A painting of a single flame lit inside a waterfall. Portrait of longing. A painting of waves crashing through the open doors of a half-ruined barn. Portrait of misplacement. A painting of a violinist fiddling underwater in a hidden bog. Portrait of fantasy. And so on.

  A Recognition

  The coffee shop eventually empties. Sam and I sit down to split a chocolate banana milkshake. He’s still looking up at the paintings in the kind of trance I first found him in all those years ago. Then, he turns to me and says, “Your titles feel right. But they’re also missing something important.” “And what’s that?” I ask, shooting my straw wrapper at his chest. “They’re self-portraits, too.”

  January

  I’ve been talking to Renny lately about college next year. About going away to school on the other side of the country. Leaving is a scary thought. But never leaving scares me, too. I want to be in an outdoor program where I can learn to guide bigger water. Plus I’ve never lived by the ocean. And, well. Like all water, I kind of always knew I’d find myself ending up there. I’ll come home to visit as much as I can. I’ve already promised Sam I’d write every week. He’s staying in town to learn welding. He’s all excited about getting to play with fire for a living.

  A Brother’s Advice

  Last night I brought the stool in. Talked the idea over with my brother. I told him I was scared. “What if I can’t do it?” He adjusted his ball cap and leaned forward. “You know, Hannah. Someday someone is going to tell you you can’t do something. And then you’ll go and do it. It’ll be a great feeling. But it’ll make you wonder all the things you didn’t do before because someone told you you couldn’t and you could have. I believe in you,” he added.

  Wind

  Renny, I’ve decided, is air. Wind. He’s the breath you need when everything else feels like too much. He’s the gentle push in the right direction. The nudge forward to help you along. Wind and water together make for either a smooth day of sailing or a perfect storm. Not a bad team.

  Quarry, Crow Moon

  The moon is full tonight. For the first time, I burn a bundle of sage. I pray for Renny. For Sam. For my last months of school and for the big trip west. Then, I pray for Ezra. I pray that someday he’ll learn to love a river. To respect the water. Because then, maybe, he’ll know how to treat a woman.

  Water Dream #4

  Somehow I know it is 10 years or so in the future. I’m not sure how. Because we look older, sure. But mostly the same. Ezra has patches of dust on his body, like a quilt of garden plots. One from every place he’s been since I last saw him. I am wearing a cloak of raindrops. One from every bit of sky I’ve thirsted under. We look each other up and down slowly. Carefully. Saying nothing and everything all at once. His eyes are soft. Apologetic. Understanding. Mine are steady but kind. Forgiving. I am water and he is earth. But somewhere in between that look is a meeting of the two. In this place, there’s a shoreline we both can accept. Before turning and walking our separate ways.

  Eyes on the Prize

  Today at practice, Coach asks me where I see myself in five years. Five years. “Here, I guess.” “No son, where do you want to be?” “Here, I guess.” “Jack, you need to get your eyes on the prize.” The prize. What is the prize?

  Anything

  I’d give anything to be able to put on invisible clothes like that wizard kid in that book. Walk around and no one would look at me. No one would pat me on the shoulder and ask me about the game. No one would ask me how my mother is holding up. I could do anything and no one would say anything about it.