My sister and I know when we have been too long when the lights are out in the house and we have to wait until morning to get in so we sleep in the garage because our parents said if we are not back by a certain time the house would be locked and we have no keys now and so we sleep in the garage like raccoons and in the morning our father lets us in but we are in trouble and we may not go to sleep, we have chores and a huge breakfast to eat and I want to die I tell him, I want to die and he says well if you'd follow the rules than what the fuck you know and your grandparents are coming over, look presentable.
I have been outside in the shed slamming beers I stole from down the street. Last week they asked me for ID to buy a lighter (get real) but then I figured out how to steal the beer and who cares about the lighter? Not me. I go up to the counter with a nice smile and buy gum and a candy bar and the attendant side-eyes me with suspicion but I have to stay real cool about things, real solid. The shed reeks of something dead and I figure out a raccoon has passed away, a mother's skeleton surrounded by two baby skeletons. What happened here that they could not get out? Snow? At least they died together.
I don't want to die with anyone. I am dying, I tell our family at dinner. My father knifes a potato and puts it on my plate, I did not have anything otherwise. Eat, he says, goddamn it. I don't want to, I'm not hungry, I'm drunk and red faced. I begin to laugh uncontrollably, jeez, look who's stoned our mother says.
At night Dina and I spoon because we have to, but sometimes because we want to, our limbs intertwining, our contortion making it even easier to sleep.
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