Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore - Sketchtasy

SKETCHTASY

SKETCHTASY

MATTILDA BERNSTEIN SYCAMORE

SKETCHTASY

Copyright 2018 by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any part by any meansgraphic, electronic or mechanicalwithout the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may use brief excerpts in a review, or in the case of photocopying in Canada, a license from Access Copyright.

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons either living or deceased is purely coincidental.

Cover and text design by Oliver McPartlin

Edited by Shirarose Wilensky

Copy edited by Doretta Lau

Proofread by Alison Strobel

Printed and bound in Canada

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Sycamore, Mattilda Bernstein, author

Sketchtasy / Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore.

Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-1-55152-729-1 (softcover).ISBN 978-1-55152-730-7 (HTML)

I. Title.

CONTENTS

THE WAY YOURE GOING TO BE

Im at the Other Side with Polly, trying to figure out which is worsestraight celebrities who wear red ribbons to show they really care about their dying gay friends, or gay people who wear them instead of actually doing anythingmaybe they should all move to the suburbs so we dont have to deal with them, okay? And this boy Andre who Polly knows from BAGLY leans over and says: Thats bullshit.

Im still strung out from coke, K, pot and ecstasy a few days agoplus, Im getting over a cold and all Ive had is a double shot of wheatgrass and Im waiting for the waiter to bring me food so I can write in my journal. Of course Andre is wearing a red ribbon. But Polly was wearing one when I met her, and she figured it out quickly enough.

Girl, I say, its just an empty symbol.

And thats when Andre starts screaming in my face: Im not a girlif I wanted a girl, Id sleep with a girl. Im a man, a twenty-one-year-old HIV-positive Latino gay man, and I like the suburbswhats wrong with the suburbs? If I want to move to the suburbs, Ill move to the suburbsI dont want to live all my life in a ghetto. You can rebel all you want, but theres no way to fight your parentstheyre the people who made you. The way youre brought up is the way youre going to be.

And I say: Were brought up to hate ourselves, and we can go beyond that.

But he just keeps yelling: If I wanted a girl, Id get a real onea girl with a pussy. If I wanted a woman, Id have sex with a woman. I like the suburbs, I want to live in the suburbs, I grew up therewhats wrong with the suburbs?

Then he walks off like were mortal enemies, and Im thinking: I need food I need food I need food get me food right now where is my food?

I go to the bathroom, and when I get out Im about to light a cigarette, but then I think: Smokings disgusting. So I go back to the table and tell Polly Im quitting, and of course she looks at me like Im crazy.

My soup finally arrives, but now I cant focus on eating because some straight asshole behind me is saying the stupidest things, I mean I guess hes on a date so hes trying to sound romantic. He just said: I have to confess somethingIve never given flowers to someone I dont know before, but I really like you, I do, you remind me of my sister.

Maybe its time to look for another pair of combat boots, I mean the duct tape on these looks glamorous but it isnt going to last through winter. Pollys too cold so she decides to go homegirl, bring a coat next time, okay?

By the time I get home its already dark, and as soon as I get inside I hear something awful on the stereo. Are you kidding? Its Aqualung. I get to the living room and theres Brian with two of his buddies from the coast guard. Everyones yelling and there are beer cans everywhereI feel like Im in a frat house. Polly, Joey, Bobby and Billy are all drinking with the straight boys like sorority girlsBobby giggles and says want a beer? Gross. I walk into my room, even though theres nothing in thereeverythings still in the living room. Thats what Im supposed to be doing tonight, moving my shit into my room because Im finally done painting and I got the new carpet and everything.

I call Joanna, who tells me she went over to Jack and Jamies house and some man turned blue and they were smacking him trying to wake him up and someone else was screaming and crying and Joanna started laughing and said okay, lets get high. She says: I dont know if I can kickheroin takes care of me.

I want to say come stay with me, but what the hell would she do in Boston with a bunch of coast guard assholes yelling in the other room? So instead I say: You can come here if you know youre not going to get strung out.

Joanna says listen, our relationship cant be the way it used to be, it hurts me too muchIm getting close to a woman for the first time and you know our connection was fucked up. I say what do you mean? She says I know we kept each other aliveat one point you were the most important person in my lifebut youre on the East Coast now and I need space to love women, to feel the fear and get somewhere with it.

But why are you putting me into some distant category, why cant you just talk to me?

So then she starts talking about speedballs: Its the most amazing feelingall the colors in your head like youre part of the sofa and everything in your body is a door, the lights on and off, on and off. And I say thats not a sofa, its a broomstick, and then were finally laughing togethereven if her voice still sounds hollow in that heroin way.

Joanna tells me shes going to help Jack kickJack told her shell be shitting and throwing up in bed for seven days. Please call me, Joanna says, and when I get off the phone I need a cigarette, but then I remember I just quit.

Maybe I need a shower, but now Im thinking about San Francisco and how Joanna wants me to send her the papers Ive written for school, but Im embarrassed because I feel like school is draining away everything I learned when I left school, I mean every time I hear someone say ontology or epistemology or reify or whatever other stupid theory bullshit I want to die.

I call Melissa, who says: What would you do if you thought AIDS was a government plot? And suddenly its like everything in the room is vibrating, too dark and too light at the same time, and I get that familiar feeling like someones behind me, my father. I know hes not behind me, but should I turn around?

Melissas saying something, and I feel like Im starting to cry so I say hold on. Where am I? Breathe, Alexa, breathe. Okay, this is my room, my new room. In Boston. My father doesnt even live in Boston. Theres some annoying classic rock in the background. A few tears. I pick up the phone and say sorry, I was getting an incest flashback, and Melissa says oh, Im sorry. Theres something in the way her voice changes so fast to meet the situation, and then Im thinking about when we met in ACT UP and how she would never say anything at meetings, but afterward her analysis was so clear, clearer than anyone Id ever met, and shed left school too. Melissa says: I had a dream that I had sex with my father, and I wasnt scaredIm scared now.