Slammed(37)
I wonder, as I ignore Gavin's presence and focus on Will, do the five stages of grief only apply to the death of a loved one? Could it not also apply to the death of an aspect of your life? If it does, then I'm definitely smack dab in the center of stage two: Anger.
"What's it called, Gavin?" Will asks. He's sitting at his desk, writing notes into his pad as students perform. It pisses me off-the way he's being so attentive, focused on everything except me. His ability to make me feel like this huge invisible void pisses me off. The way he pauses to chew on the tip of his pen pisses me off. Just last night, those same lips that are wrapped around the tip of his ugly red pen were making their way up my neck.
I push the thought of his kiss out of my mind as quickly as it crept in. I don't know how long it will take, but I'm determined to break from this hold he has on me.
"Um, I didn't really give it a title," Gavin responds. He's standing at the front of the classroom, second to last person to perform. "I guess you can call it Pre-Proposal?"
"Pre-Proposal, go ahead then," Will states in a teacher-ish voice that also pisses me off.
"Eh-hem," Gavin clears his throat. His hands start trembling more as he begins to read.
One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes.
That's approximately how many minutes I've loved you,
It's how many minutes I've thought about you,
How many minutes I've worried about you,
How many minutes I've thanked God for you,
How many minutes I've thanked every deity in the Universe for you.
One million
Fifty one thousand
And
Two
Hundred
Minutes…
One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred times.
It's how many times you've made me smile,
How many times you’ve made me dream,
How many times you’ve made me believe,
How many times you’ve made me discover,
How many times you’ve made me adore,
How many times you’ve made me cherish,
My life.
(Gavin walks toward the back of the room where Eddie is sitting. He bends down on one knee in front of her as he reads the last line of his poem.)
And exactly one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes from now, I'm going to propose to you, and ask that you share all the rest of the minutes of your life with me.
Eddie is beaming as she leans down and hugs him. The classroom is divided as the boys groan and the girls swoon. I simply squirm in my seat, anticipating the last poet of the day: Me.
“Thanks Gavin, you can take your seat. Good job.” Will doesn't look up from his notes as he calls me to read my poem. His voice is soft, full of trepidation as he says my name. "Layken, it’s your turn."
I'm ready. I feel good about my piece. It's short but to the point. I already have it memorized so I leave the poem on my desk as I walk to the front of the classroom.
"I have a question." My heart is racing as I realize this is the first time I've spoken out loud to Will in his classroom since I entered it a month ago. He hesitates as though he can't decide if he should acknowledge that I even have a question. He gives me a slight nod.
"What if it doesn’t rhyme?” I say.
I’m not sure what he thought I was about to ask, but he looks relieved that this was my question.
“That’s fine. Remember, there are no rules.” His voice cracks slightly as he replies. I can see on his face that what happened between us last night is fresh on his mind. All the better.
"Good. Okay then," I stammer. "My poem is called mean." I face the front of the classroom and proudly recite my poem from heart.
According to the thesaurus…
and according to me…
there are over thirty different meanings and substitutions for the word
mean.
(I quickly yell the following words; the entire class flinches-including Will)
Jackass, jerk, cruel, dickhead, unkind, harsh, wicked, hateful, heartless, vicious, virulent, unrelenting, tyrannical, malevolent, atrocious, bastard, barbarous, bitter, brutal, callous, degenerate, brutish, depraved, evil, fierce, hard, implacable, rancorous, pernicious, inhumane, monstrous, merciless, inexorable.