DISTRACTION
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #51, MERCY
I shouldn’t have nodded
when he sat beside me
in Sunday school, adjusted his glasses
and searched well-worn scrips
to find the verse the girl stumbling
through teaching the lesson announced.
I definitely should not have murmured,
“John 10:16.”
Who knew it would make him blush?
I’m nothing special here—not stunning, tall, tan and
blonde like California saints grow their daughters.
Nobody stares, nobody whispers—
nobody asks me out.
I’m as invisible as this pinked up, chubby nerd-boy
with a slim calculator tucked in the outside pocket
of his cracked, blue vinyl scripture case.
I should have cut him like
my roomy would have.
She’d never be in this position.
No way—not Tawni—the Salt Lake girl
who hi-jacked the bed next to mine
from a Midwest music major I found on ChatSpot.
Not this girl who models on weekends,
told me her father would give me a good deal
if I ever wanted to get surgical
with my inadequate breasts,
and tossed me her old cell
when I fessed up I didn’t have one,
laughing at my prissy face
when I turned it on to a close-up
of her boyfriend’s butt—jeans riding low—
commando.
Not Tawni, who lied to a bishop and a Stake President
to steal a spot on the Lord’s roster of incoming freshmen
and is systematically ruining my dream come true.
She’d never fumble to answer her cell and cringe
while Noah the Nerdling, coaxed by half his hall
in the background, stutters, “Saturday.
Homecoming. The game and the dance.
I’ve got tickets for the Creeper.”
I should have laughed and told him to drop dead.
But I’m not that girl. “Sure. What time?
I’ll pack snacks for the game.”
“Really?” Celebrating guys drown out the rest.
Mercy date for Homecoming.
Least I know how I rate.
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/06 9:30 PM
| Leesie327 says: | | Can you smell pine trees in Pullman? |
| Kimbo69 says: | | All I can smell is my roommate… massive stoner. |
| Leesie327 says: | | Go to your window and take a deep breath of pine for me. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | How’s the roomy from hell? What’s her name? |
| Leesie327 says: | | Tawni. Last night during apartment prayer, she got a text and answered it while Cadence was trying to pray. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Cadence? Musical parents? |
| Leesie327 says: | | Yeah. Her guitar grows out of her like a natural appendage. She’s amazing. She hasn’t been a member all that long. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Member? |
| Leesie327 says: | | Of the church. A Mormon. She’s a convert. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Okay. Whatever you say. So, texting and praying don’t mix? |
| Leesie327 says: | | Extreme rude. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | But everyone isn’t into praying like you are. |
| Leesie327 says: | | Mormons are. BYU students are. The five of us are. Tawni is killing the Spirit here. And I have to share a room with her. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Sorry you got such a bummer. My roommate’s cool—even when she’s stoned. She’s got a boyfriend, too, so I can get the room for Mark and me a lot. |
| Leesie327 says: | | Why aren’t you guys sharing a room? I thought it was co-ed. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Not that co-ed. That hall was full. |
| Leesie327 says: | | You guys didn’t want to get another apartment? |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Our moms colluded…decided dorm life was something we both should experience…I had to go along…Mom’s the one with the wallet…the bed is awful…how’s yours? |
| Leesie327 says: | | Rock-like. But it’s high so I can stuff crap under it. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Watch that roomy of yours…she’ll stuff a guy under hers. |
| Leesie327 says: | | She’s got a boyfriend in Salt Lake—Kanyon. He comes down almost every night. No guys are allowed back in our bedrooms. I’ve kicked him out three times. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Heartless…you’re totally heartless. |
| Leesie327 says: | | Honor code. I signed it. She signed it. Housing rules let guys hang out in our kitchen—bedrooms and bathrooms are off limits. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | What is she doing at a place like BYU? |
| Leesie327 says: | | None of us can fathom that. If I were really heartless, I’d turn her in. She could get kicked out on her butt. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Not even Leesie the Almighty is that heartless. |
| Leesie327 says: | | I know. But she’s ruining this for me. I’m supposed to be living my fantasies, but all I can think about are the smell of pines, my dad’s smile and—you know. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Michael. What happened to thousands of the hottest guys on the planet who all believe like you? |
| Leesie327 says: | | They are drooling over the girls from California. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Now you are being pathetic…get a backbone, girl…what you need is a hot date. |
| Leesie327 says: | | Oh, I’ve got one of those coming up next weekend. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Good…if Michael’s a ten, how does this guy rate? |
| Leesie327 says: | | I’m offended. On a scale of one to ten, Michael’s a solid fifteen. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | And this guy is? |
| Leesie327 says: | | You know the boy in eighth grade who went to every dance, came early to help set up, stayed after to clean up, but never danced once? |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Who cleans up after dances? |
| Leesie327 says: | | Sweet shy boys who eat too many potato chips. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | You into that? |
| Leesie327 says: | | Why not? Seems like a safe bet. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | If you want to run the relationship. |
| Leesie327 says: | | Yeah. Know what you mean, but I couldn’t hurt his feelings. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | What about your feelings? |
| Leesie327 says: | | They need some distraction. |
| Kimbo69 says: | | Poor kid…what if he really likes you? |
| Leesie327 says: | | I don’t know. There isn’t a rule for that. |
HONEYMOONERS
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10
D
IVE
B
UDDY
: the honeymooners
D
ATE
: 10/13
D
IVE
#: 1,217
L
OCATION
: Phuket
D
IVE
S
ITE
: Anemone Reef
W
EATHER
C
ONDITION
: sunny
W
ATER
C
ONDITION
: flat
D
EPTH
: 30’
V
ISIBILITY
: 40’
W
ATER
T
EMP
.: 78 F
B
OTTOM
T
IME
: 24 minutes
C
OMMENTS
:
First open-water dive for these students. Lousy vis. But tons of fish and it’s not raining. Mrs. Newlywed gets to the sand okay, but he’s not sinking. Usually the other way around. I settle her on the sand and swim up to help her flailing better half.
Should have turned this gig down. I really don’t want to spend a week with honeymooners. Gushy ones. The chick climbs all over the guy all freaking day. Guess I shouldn’t call her that but this woman is definitely a chick. Bikini so skimpy she’s almost naked. Pouts when she has to put on a wetsuit. The husband is massively embarrassed when she goes at him in front of me.
So am I.
After yesterday’s pool and classroom sessions, I almost didn’t show today.
When the J.W. Marriot’s dive shop called looking for a PADI instructor with decent English, the chance to get away from Queen-N and Khoa Lak sounded too good to be true. Five days at the Marriott? Sign me up. The room is cush—if only Leesie were here with me. Giant bathtub with jets.
I use the shower. Keep it on the cold side.
My divers are a couple of Aussies—or is that Ozzies? They just got married after living together four years. She’s ecstatic. Like I said, acting very honeymoon. The guy is just worn out.
Every time my back is turned, she’s at him again.
I can’t imagine Leesie like that. I should want her to be. It’s not like I’d get worn out. But, it seems too crass to be all public about it. That’s not us. Even on a honeymoon. Our honeymoon—which would really be a honeymoon. None of this fake we’re newlyweds but have been shacking up forever playacting like this chick is doing. Our wedding night would really be a wedding night.
Never thought of it like that before Leesie. Never thought of not doing it until you’re married until her. Never even thought of anything close to marriage pre-Leese. What all this stuff is supposed to be. Used to mean. Still does for some people—for Leesie. For this Aussie chick, it’s a chance to throw a big party and get lots of attention and make a fool of herself on her honeymoon. They are making a commitment, though. That’s positive. Maybe she wants a baby. Nice presents. Who knows? The only thing certain is somebody dropped a load of dough paying for it all. Probably her. This chick’s a corporate ladder climber for sure.
I’m at the surface with the guy. Give him the extra weight I’m carrying. He still doesn’t sink. Give him all my weights. I don’t really need them anymore. Muscle sinks. I’m negative—even with my shorty on. The guy tries to dump the air from his B.C. but pumps the wrong button instead. His vest inflates. His eyes pop toward panic. I pat his shoulder and guide his hand so the air shoots out. He finally starts to sink.
This couple makes me think way too much. Last night I fell asleep imagining Leesie in white in my arms on our wedding night. Man, that’s a vision I could worship, but I’ve got to cut this crap out. There isn’t going to be a wedding night. No matter what she forces out of me online. No matter what she says. We both know. I let her go for a reason. I need to remember that—focus on these happy Aussies who trust me to teach them not to kill themselves underwater.