NaMee
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Early Draft Excerpt: The Snowblower part III
🕑 Added 2024-11-12 18:29:56 +0000 UTCHere's part 3 of 3 for this section I worked on at Hedgebrook. Thanks for reading along!
Early Draft Excerpt: The Snowblower part III
Chapter #
You called Gema? Fernando calls me.
Where are you?
I am in jail, why did you call Gema
How do you know I called Gema
Because she told me
Yeah well how did she tell you
On the phone, NaMee. What is your problem
How did she call you
I called her! She is the mother of my daughters, why are you so crazy all of a sudden
Where are you?
I am in jail, I told you
How do you use your cell phone in jail
What are you talking about
Your cell phone. How do you use it if you’re in jail
I don’t use my cell phone in jail, what is wrong with you
Don’t lie to me. I have the call logs
The what
The call logs. I can see every call you make
What. Oh my god. You’re crazy NaMee
The truth is he’s not wrong
Chapter #
SunWoo and I fly to Minnesota. Fernando’s story is starting to rot. His friends know nothing and all the nothing they don’t know buzzes like flies between us so their heads shake and they can’t look me in the eye.
But every lie has its threshold. I’m standing at Marco’s front door. I’m holding SunWoo, who is undeniably precious. He is two months old and he can almost keep his chin up. He glows, so obviously half-Fernando.
Marco admits that Fernando has never lived at his house. Marco’s kids squeal behind him and the squeal is so sweet it makes us both smile. They are running across the living room, make believing they are in danger. They are soft children who live with an honest father. Marco says, okay, Fernando will be here tomorrow at 6. He is coming to buy Marco’s snowblower.
Who buys a snowblower in April? This is the most illogical thing I can think of, even though I am standing on a stoop of a house Fernando said he used to live in but has never actually lived in, talking to a man who looks so afraid of me that he would run home if he was not already home, and I’m holding a baby I made with a lover with fake names and fake futures and calls me from his cell phone angry that I’m accusing him of using his cell phone and! who is supposed to be in jail! but made arrangements with his friend to buy a snowblower
at 6, tomorrow,
here.
I want to hug Marco but he looks at me like my grief is contagious. I look down in english and I and say thank you in spanish, which is his mother arms
Chapter #
Tomorrow rises from the dead. My friend drives me back to Marco’s. At 6:05 I get out of the car. SunWoo stays with her in the backseat.
I knock on Marco’s door. Fernando answers.
His face is like a boat, one that is about to hit a reef.
I am the reef.
I am long and horrific. My rage could sink ships. My first words:
How’s
jail
Chapter #
Fernando swerves. NaMee! I am so happy to see you, what are you doing here? Some lies are like a country and once you cross the border you can never go back. Fernando says he was out of jail now for only a little bit, he was going to call me, I look so beautiful. He says I am so crazy but he loves me, he loves his son, our son, the Michelin man. He opens his mouth, tries to root towards me, tries to paddle his way around. He says of course he lives here he doesn’t know why Marco would lie to me. Why are you yelling, he asks. He laughs. He says I worry too much.
*
I left him. I left him on the sidewalk, I left him on the reef. I take our baby home, to Alaska.
On the plane, SunWoo is inconsolable. I am in the window seat in row 23. Everyone in the back of the plane has forgotten what a baby is or having ever had one or having ever been one, and the gods of parenting desert me, so we are perhaps the saddest and loneliest duo in the world, and certainly on flight 61 to Juneau. Row 23’s prayers are answered when I ask for my startled starfish and I to be let out. I walk my son up and down the aisle. Bouncing, like happy people do. Bouncing, like a boat. Ten thousand feet later, he falls asleep in my arms.
If I sit down, he cries. If I stop bouncing, he cries. I have no choice but to keep moving
*
We arrive, drenched echoes. Again, my parents pick me up at the airport
