House Arrest

You look cold.
Duh, Mrs. B. It’s wintertime.
Where’s your coat?
Duh, Mrs. B. My arms have grown
three sizes since last winter.
Do you need a coat?
Duh, Mrs. B. But you think I’m going to ask for one?
You should take care of yourself.
You don’t want to get sick.
Duh, Mrs. B. Who wants to get sick?
Have you had a flu shot?
Duh, Mrs. B. Who’s going to pay for it?
You should think about getting one.
Duh, Mrs. B. I think about a lot of things I can’t do.
Timothy, are you listening to me?
Duh, Mrs. B. Are you listening to you?

James has on his Serious Face.
His Probation Officer University face.
Mr. and Mrs. Jiminez have been interviewed
and approved.
The judge respects the situation.
Mom talks to him like a robot.
Yes, no, yes, I understand.
Her eyes are stuck to Levi.
Like he’s her sun instead of just her son,
like she’s a glob of plasma
reaching and stretching to him.
She gets her energy from knowing he’s right there.
She can’t not touch him.
You worry about Levi.
We have Timothy under control.
We have Timothy under control.
Like I am a disease.

Then a key in the door,
shuffling shoes.
José’s mom shouts something from the kitchen,
José’s dad loosening his tie,
dropping his briefcase.
Isa stands and hugs him
José tells about the math test and how well he did.
The oomPAHing stops and Alé flies down the stairs.
They are a crowd
even with Theresa and Sofia not at home.
They are all talking at once.
José’s dad acts annoyed as he tries to get
to the kitchen
but he’s smiling.
José’s mom steps into the dining room
wipes her hands on her apron
kisses him big on the mouth
and I am still at the table
alone

How big are your feet?
I thought you were speaking in code, James.
That’s why I didn’t answer.
Not at first.
I was deciphering your code.
How big are your feet?
You mean for running from crimes committed?
How big are your feet?
You mean, will I be tall enough
to beat you up one day?
How big are your feet?
For stomping and pitching fits?
But you meant it just like you asked it.
How big are my feet.
Then you plopped down the sneakers,
Not new, but almost new.
Check out these kicks.
And you thought you were so cool
saying kicks instead of sneakers.

Crying crying crying
that’s all I could do.
I couldn’t even make words
come out of my mouth
and it was so embarrassing
but I didn’t know where else to go,
and my journal was stuffed
under my shirt
because it’s like a part of me now
and I couldn’t stop crying
even when it was Isa
of course
who opened the door,
and even when José’s mom
took me to the bathroom
and turned on the shower
and said over and over,
Mijo, mijo, mijo,
until she was crying
and I was crying
and she was looking at my knuckles
all bloody and bruised
from punching the wall
instead of Mary

Mrs. B. ran her hands through her hair.
She looked at me hard.
A long look into my guts.
I looked back instead of looking away.
I held her stare for once.
I counted like she taught me to.
I breathed like she taught me to.
OK, I said again.
How about a little time on the computer, Timothy?
Mrs. B. stepped over the broken plant
turned on the monitor
looked right into my guts again.
And my guts looked back.
They said, Sorry.
They said, I’m so sorry, Mrs. B.
I’m so, so sorry.

Things keep happening.
So many things
to us.
But none of the things are
things we can control,
not really…
Don’t you think it’s time for
things to change?
Time for us to try and
control some of the things?
Time to let people help?
Let me ask about the Carnival.
Maybe they won’t even want to do it.
We won’t know
until we ask.
That’s what I said
to Mom.
For real.
With my actual mouth.
It can’t be a big deal.
That’s all she said.
With her actual mouth.
Her eyes, though,
her eyes said:
People will think things about us.
My mouth said:
It won’t be a big deal.
My eyes said:
People already think things about us.
People already want to help us with things.
All we have to do is let them.
Let them help us.
Let them help us change things.

And Levi.
Out in public for the first time
in a long time.
His face was so funny
watching all those things,
trying to figure out the world
outside of his four walls.
I guess that’s what made me take the microphone,
what made me make that speech
(without any notes!)
what made me say those things
about my own four walls
my walls made of James and Mrs. B. and Mom
and now José’s house, sometimes, too.
[…]
I guess that’s why I said those things,
watching his walls open up like that,
and how it all made me think of my own walls
and how they made me open up
instead of the other way around.

fifteen
thousand
two
hundred
forty
eight
dollars
and
seventy
two
cents
holy
crap
holy
crap
holy
crap
Mom is holding the check.
The PTA lady is at the door.
Look at this! Look at what you’ve done, Timothy!
Mom says it with a huge smile
with tears in her eyes
and she means it in a good way this time.
Look at what I’ve done.
Look at what I’ve done!!!