My Works

I'm Here Too [3]

Birdy.

One, two, three, four.

Pirouette, arabesque, attitude, gallop grand jeté.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Piqué and Fouetté rond de jambe en tournant.

I follow the robots in front of me, and keep in time with the moves. My legs, my arms, worn in by the steps polished with eminence and worn down by expectations. The music slows, and I fall into the finishing position.

Ms. Karia stands at the front of the class, her scowl examines the contours of our thighs and arms the straightness of our legs the curve in out point. “That was pathetic.”  Her eyes focus on me “Birdy, that wasn‘t dancing that was flailing. What‘s wrong with you? You look fatter today”

The girls around me scatter, and I’m left to face her alone. “I‘m just not feeling myself today” I walk away, trying not to think about her words, trying not to look into the mirror and stab my self-esteem. I sit on the studio floor and ground my back into the mirror, hoping that the glass will break and cut me. I pull off my shoes, and feel my heart beating in my toes and pulsating through my feet.

“ABA doesn’t accept fat people” she says as I walk for the exit, I leave pretending as if I didn’t hear her. Winter had come early in Hurstwood, the leaves of fall die away under the snow that dusts the surfaces. I walked up Washington Street till I came to the Corner Arcade. It’s warmer inside, bearable, yet I keep myself wrapped up. I move through the arcade past the basketball hoops, the racing car simulators, to find Indi in the back corner, she’s playing pinball, while wearing 3D glasses, sipping on a grape Slurpee and humming the theme to MASH. She stopped and moved her hands into a praying position, placing them together in front of her heart.

“Hey Indi-”

“Don‘t talk” she snapped, remaining in the calm and eerily peaceful pose, where she seemed to blocked out all nose coming from the surroundings in the arcade.

I crossed my arms and scowled, leaning against the pinball ball machine, I continued to talk anyway “You‘re not happy to see me, them?” I said “I have to say, I‘m surprised. I‘ve been told that my presence bought happiness and joy to rooms, but I can make an exception for you, Kiki Kannibal”

“I‘m harnessing the power of ‘Ultimate Pinball’” she said, lifting up one leg, her humming grew in pitch.

“You’re either harnessing the power of being an idiot or, your just plain stupid.”

“Then I‘m stupid” she said in and Indian accent.

“-or both” I finish “I‘m inclined to think both.”

“Who are you today?” she asked, peeping out through one of her eyes.

“It’s me, Birdy.” I asked. What kind of question was that? Who am I today? I am me. Always me.

She lowered her arms and sighed, continuing with the Indian accent she says “May the balls come to me.”

“Yeah,” I said, loosening my scarf around my neck “You‘d like that wouldn‘t you? Lots of balls coming to you?”

“I meant pinball…but I wouldn‘t mind the other one either,” she winked, through the red side of her 3D glasses. She kissed her dime and put it in the slot.

There was a metal clanging then the dime rolled out of the bottom. She picked it up and tried it again, the same thing happened “It’s not working!” she said pressing numerous buttons. The whole machine went blank and all the lights turned off.

I pulled the last bobby pin out of my bun, my hair fell free around me face. “Yeah, I unplugged,” I said, “don‘t really feeling like watching you play ‘Ultimate Pinball’.” I shrug, “You know what they say, never pray with your eyes closed, because someone will unplug you pinball machine!”

“I‘m bored,” Indi said, unimpressed, “let’s go get something to eat.”

F-U-N 2 E-A-T is the new arcade food court that is attached onto Hurstwood mall. We stood in line at ‘Gary’s Papaya’, a mock hot dog vendor. The pimple clad guy who’s served us, was taken aback a little when Indi strode up to him, chewing her gum, and asking him about the Easter bunny in a British accent.

She ordered our food in the same fashion

I unwrapped my hotdog and look at it I unwrap my hotdog and look at it. Hotdog= 180, bun=100, ketchup=22, mustard= 36 ‘Gary’s Papaya’ hotdog= 338. I lift it up to my mouth, and hold it there, my nose breaths in 338 my stomach churns. I can feel it coming, it’s not time, and it’s coming, now.

I stand up and run to the bathroom. Pushing my through a cubical door, I just make it. Thanking god that the lid was already up, I hurl, contents comes out my mouth.

I groan when I finally think it’s over. I hug the toilet bowl, collect up some toilet paper and wipe the seat. Why is it, there is always corn in spew, even when I haven’t eaten it. Corn and carrot?

I stay I the cubical, prop up against the wall and toilet bowl. There’s a knock on the door, it opens.

Indi stood against the door munching on her hotdog, the 3D glasses low on the crook of her nose so that she can see clearly. She came in, and flushed the toilet.

“Have corn and carrot for breakfast huh?” she said in her British accent.

She held out her hand, I looked at it for a moment hesitant, and then I reached out and took it.

“What’s wrong with you, you usually wait to through up after you eat?”