For Tamara Read online

  I wished I could have put up glow-n-the-dark stars & moons in your room. / I guess I don’t have to now. / If nothing else, you can see them all.

  I would like to think you’d still be doing your homework. / That you’re alive. / That was wishful, even then.

  Here is where I’d draw a picture of your Father. / Wet weather followed by sun equals mosquitoes. / Why do you have to be so adorable?

  You’re still him, my silly goose. / My Beautiful Idiot. / You are & you are working as hard as we are. / Remember blackberries, the fruit.

  I screamed for everyone (in range) if they had medical and/or military experience to step out.

  Not that your Father ever would dance but / “Just in Time” by Nina Simone. / He always was just in time.

  You care about weather when it can actually change the course of yr life. / I wish I were writing about how to make face-paint.

  We used to have these cities. / We used to have so many types of doctor. / We used to have supermarkets.

  You know what, My Darling Dearest? / I have no idea how I came up with your name. / I swear you picked it, my Tamara.

  Unless it is the northern lights/aurora borealis, a green sky is never a good thing. / Get underground.

  Before this, your Mother was a writer. / Now she is a doctor & teacher. / I suppose this still counts as writing.

  An eclipse is when you can’t see the moon or sun. / The latter, the moon blocks the sun. / From the earth. / No magic, just the solar system.

  With that sun / my face through that window. / I twist my ring. / Wound. / I’m asking for the day off.

  Playing dead is a good strategy for more situations than I can count. / I know it is gross, but you get that blood on you and don’t breathe more than you need.

  You should have seen me then. / T., you’re more gorgeous than I could have imagined. / One day, you should invent a currency.

  Considering how important generators are, / you’d be surprised at how poorly they’re drawn. / I’m talking magnets and copper wire.

  Tamara, apparently don’t throw out your textbooks. / I’m running out of advice. / You’re going to be better at this than I.

  One of the most difficult things to learn is to be happy for someone else. To let go. There is nothing I wouldn’t do, but damn, this is a hard place to be in. / You will be okay. / We are making this life. / I learned to set a dislocated shoulder. / I have no idea why I still feel guilty, / or sad. / It isn’t even that I can’t get over you: / but how to could they compare. / You remember, as I told you: / the first time I saw you I thought: this is what I have been waiting for.

  We used to have this idea of a house. / Did you know your Mum can make perfume? / I just want to back to that idea, / memory.

  Your grandfather raised me as a vegetarian. / But not as a stupid one. / Eat your dinner, / meat and all.

  Yes, your Mum has a sensitivity to light & so many allergies. / I hope you’ll grow up to be so much stronger.

  There is so much water in this world, / as in you. / We barely have the clinic running. / We have to start producing antibiotics.

  Oh the world I would make for you. / It still wouldn’t be good enough.

  Bad things will happen to you. / Just know they happened to me too; / and I’m still here.

  A few days before this / I argued w/yr Father about leaving (again). / Love someone for who they are. / That was part of who he was, is. / To deny that part of him would have been cruel. / And yes, I miss My Beautiful Idiot.

  Make sure you sleep. / If you go w/o long enough you’ll hallucinate. / Paranoia. / Anxiety. / Mood swings. / Inability to function.

  Tamara, if you ever find your Dad. / Tell him I loved him best.

  No, My Husband / here with our girl. / To think I used to have breakfast in bed / every day. / Before this we were picking out faucets. “I’m only going for a week.” / Now: all the faucets I want. / Home: / where you aren’t scared.

  In my 20s, on a train. / This city glimmering before me, / & for me. / “This is for you.” / Let’s play. / We laughed, that game with the button.

  When? / Before you were born. / Stilettos? / Uncomfortable shoes / to be attractive. / Showed you never had to walk. / Not so useful now. / We left because / your Father and I followed our brains. / Good thing. / That city was one of the first. / I saw it destroyed on tv. / tv? / I told you what that was / remember that flip-book we made? / & I watched / & it wasn’t pretend. / In a few hours there wasn’t tv, radio.

  There were clouds, rain. / We had agreed the kitchen & bathroom faucets should be equal quality. / Right before we moved.

  Tamara, some of these notes are for your Father. / I hope that Beautiful Idiot gets to read them / with you. / He missed you so much.

  T., I don’t know if I should show you how to make or break (we’re low on jokes) chairs. / Watermelon. / So many places I wanted to see.

  Your Dad made these amazing toys / Like dominoes.

  Your Mum read Emily Post as a child. / What I wouldn’t do. / I hope you like the boat.

  I always loved you for your lack of heroics. / But today, someone called you “Dad” and that was polite at best. / Just say her real Dad is off literally saving the world. / Please. / Tamara has to start somewhere. / That seems good place.

  This gov’t acknowledges all religions & faiths. / Unless they can reverse this, feed & clothe everyone / we need a secular plan. / Please help.

  T., I’m going to give you the worst basics. / Please do not cloud-seed, develop directional emps, bio-weapons, / fall in love. / I trust your judgment. / Okay, fall in love. / Someone to share your photographs with. / Who makes jam / and does a mean appendectomy.

  T., I did the best I could. / Don’t you think I want to wake up? / Promise you something?

  You made me smile: thank-you. / Get out. / I love my husband so much more than this will ever be. / And yes, I pretend to laugh at your jokes.

  I didn’t have you in my will / it took some time to warm up to you.

  You know, when I was first pregnant / your Dad thought you beautiful. / Even then.

  No, love isn’t a temporary condition. / Don’t use that word otherwise.

  We took you in with a skill set. / We are so very happy to have you here. / No, we don’t like to talk about the past.

  On your paternal side, your family came from Europe to America on the Mayflower and the Lyon. / Your v. great grandaunt was a Salem witch. / She escaped. / Don’t test that theory.

  Your grandfather taught me relativity on a mountain. / He told me we are not just pencils — carbon — but diamonds. / I want to tell you because you are so shiny & precious / but I’d rather you believe in science. / You shiny, perfect carbon.

  I don’t pretend that your life is easy. / Use that to understand others, / forgive. / The crops will die out soon.

  I’d love to see you with your Dad / in a station / that Canadian Poet sign in your hand. / Now my claim to fame is triage.

  Keep track of your paper / like gold. / Listen to lessons about how to make it & ink / even from me.

  Tamara, you’re almost too glorious to exist. / O, come on, your Mum gets one off.

  No, I don’t want to talk about the first days, / they were horrible, okay? / Forgive me.

  Your Dad is the most gorgeous thing. / Yes, T., other than you. / Watching his brain work was exquisite. / No, I’m no slouch. / Let me be romantic for a second / and let you be so lucky.

  You go fall in love with a genius and see how well you adapt.

  Tamara: Even I can write your name with care. / I am here with the people / decided to live. / Even if not by me you were loved.

  Your Dad drew models of your nursery. / I vetoed the underground ones. / I don’t know if I should tell you what was or what happened.

  Notes. / See the thing is yr Dad wasn’t one for leav
ing notes. / Codes: yes. / Notes: I bandage before cryptography. / Sorry.

  You were born / when I disregarded humanity. / You had to fucking giggle. / Just right then.

  Yr Mum spent a long time studying myth. / What she would also call history, occult, religion, and magic. / I don’t want to teach it to you. / Yet, I know you will have your own. They will likely be no worse or better. / But a mystery is just something we do not understand. / But there are a few things that are useful & common: study the stars, planets, the sun, & moon. / Read a solar flare. / A flare my dear tells you so much more than cards, or a stick. / Those tell you what you already know. / Explain the aurora borealis.

  I’m trying to get out of seeing him. / Frankly, I’m lonely enough / to forget your Father (for a time). / In this case “or worse.”

  When I sit here waiting for you I just remember: I love my husband so much. Please, please let him come home safe to me.

  I’d like to fall in love again. The old school way. The way where I take just one look. (I’m sorry.)

  Hate the chicken dance at weddings / my girl, yeah. / Names of plants are important / like people. / You puking at the prom.

  The mural on your wall. / I started that day / finished between patients. / That sea! / There was so much life.

  I want to tell you not to worry. / Not for you, me, or your Dad. / I wish I could sing to you more. / You’re lucky in that you have nothing to miss.

  Being left in this world, / with random luxuries / a fake fireplace. / Here I am making you a calendar. / My darling T.

  I can’t stand that I reflexively reach out with / my left hand for you.

  We used to say / during blackouts / when we lost electricity / 9 months later: babies. / Your Dad wasn’t here for the 1st blackout. / But you were, T.

  I cry about you sometimes. / Then I remind myself this is it, / to stop being such a sillyhead.

  Your Dad is extraordinary. / Love him for that. / You can eat Mayday berries.

  She kicks / like you in your sleep.

  The worst ones were on tv. / One by one, the time has come. / But yeah, now I’d like to know. / We’re growing this garden without you. / In a bunker / you / at work. / I wonder about your lab. / You left me here with winter & sickness & I have to grow tomatoes. / We dance over one. / We’d love those rations about now.

  I want to tell you she is glorious and beautiful. / I want to write you postcards. / I want security clearance / if that matters now.

  I know I used to rant at you for a site going down. / But now, I really need to rant about a water pump. They’re being moronic dickwads.

  You got me. / I will give you anything for her. / My darling dearest. / But you are running a fever / someone should really look at that leg.

  You know why you are in this book, right? You were going to work at a Lab. It was half underground. I don’t have your clearance, but there is no one to watch over me now, so I know you are likely alive. I also know you are in a structure that makes outside communication nearly impossible, especially now. In short: you are in it as I think you are alive. Plus, T. has to know her father. (I wish you were here to tell me what you wanted her to know).

  Yeah, because he would.

  T.: Have family dinner. / I never much did that / but it really is important.

  I know I should be telling you to make sure you brush your teeth. / But I trust you want your teeth. / So T., I get to be sappy.

  When you learnt screaming didn’t help / no matter who was listening.

  Half the bed is for you, / My Beautiful Idiot.

  Whenever anyone said you were never around, I usually just smiled. I wasn’t like I didn’t know that was the deal. I never understood those couples that went to the market and bought food for the dinner they had planned that night: don’t get me wrong, that sounded great, but it wasn’t for me. Time apart gives you something to talk about. Plus, you get time apart.

  But I did get a few e-mails a day, at least. Even if half were in our little code of song lyrics and fictional sounds and lord knows.

  I didn’t cry the day it happened. / I remember watching the news / then mostly went through my day.

  I still feel like I’m betraying you. / After all these years.

  There are two things I love more than myself. / And T., you are one.

  He was, is my husband. / So no, this isn’t like any other problem. / He wasn’t just anyone else.

  I need you to prep for amputation. / No, we don’t have the time or supplies. / We have to cut and run. / Now go!

  T., on that day I looked up “how to make a candle”; sadly, due to a grade school trip, I can — with wax. Everyone just wanted to scent it.

  They need to be stripped & washed. / Their car needs to be blocked off. / Thyroid meds (Potassium Iodide) & narcs. / No discussion on this one.

  I watched the explosion on tv, / heard the commentators nearly crying. / That was the first sign.

  Teaching your kid to write in numerous languages is far harder than it sounds. / We all need help.

  Who put me in charge? No one. But you are happy to take it from me. I currently run a hospital & school at the end of it all. Give it a go. / Trust me.

  I am scared. / I know I don’t tell you. / But that is pretty much my job, T.

  Yr Mum evolved such that she loves small spaces / good vantage points / sleeping at weird hours. / Love me anyway, ok?

  I reach back to you.

  I know you said Time only goes one way. And that is why I know you, if only you fix this.

  You all slink out tonight so I can / quiet, dive into the sky.

  Schrödinger’s cat: you explain it to your kid. / I have shit to do. btw That is me losing my temper. / Sorry. / I will explain, just not now.

  I don’t know what happened. / But it was bad. / And it was time to fortify the house. / Always sleep with your back to the wall / with a line in sight. / No windows / shallow roof if you can. / I wanted a supply list of meds and weapons. / Secondly, I wanted someone with paint to paint a cross on the house to mark it a hospital (and help me board it up).

  T., your Dad worked all over the world. / cern, lhc, Arecibo / and a handful of National Labs where he is now. / If he ever reads this tell him, I never settled. / Not once.

  I will never be able to replace teaching you myself how to spot a satellite. / Even the Big Dipper. / Darling, know I would if I could.

  Any object that has significant mass can be a “straight edge.” / Never only depend on rulers.

  My Mother would stay up to laminate things. / I get that now. / No one should have to make a star chart from scratch.

  My Idiot, there are worse things in the world than your iq & crazy. / Pls trust me on this one.

  You were always gone. / But you were always, always coming back. / Husband of Mine: use that brain of yours: / come back. / And yes, anytime is a fucking picnic.

  There are different types of stars based on size / how they die or collapse. / Some are like the sun. / Larger ones: white dwarf. / The neutron star: creates a black hole. / But before they die, / they swell: / a red giant. / Then there are supernovas/ae. As a very great man once said / and I’m pretty sure your Father could explain to you far better / “you are made of star stuff.” / The iron in our body is from a star that died. / Even the oxygen.

  My Beautiful Idiot, / what I wouldn’t give to be with you would take a googolplex of pages / but unless I make them, / they aren’t here. / But she misses you. / I tell her stories about you / and she misses you. / If you are alive, use all that tech to find us, ok? / Fuck the world. / Husband of Mine, today is for me. / First crop. I’d swing it in your face. / Don’t you dare do this to me. / Not again.

  When I say, when anyone says, “get down”: Do. You hear gunfire — hit the ground & cover your head. / Because I love you, Tamara.

  T., / my darling dearest, /
you’ll be okay. / In fact you’ll be brilliant. / And you never needed me for that. / Goodbye, my love.

  My grandfather gave me a keyboard. / The first song I learned was “Silent Night.” GAGE.

  I’m writing F=ma in your Dad’s shirt. / I think he would be proud, of my attempt at least. / He could do this far better than I. / I got languages.

  I had this dream:

  I said “I love you” by accident. The kids, everyone was packing, leaving, and you kissed me. You nodded, smiled.

  We were packing. The cars were out front. I was at the third-floor window when I waived.

  I said I was staying. I did not mean to hurt anyone. You held my hand and stayed out of sight. But they knew. She knew.

  Wood furniture.

  Tamara, you will watch me die. / This will be your responsibility. / All. / No, it isn’t fair. / This was never fair.

  T., know he isn’t Dad. / Dad isn’t here. / Play nice. / Yes, of course I wish yr Father were here / but he’s just not. / Mum is lonely too.

  I’ve been writing so many things for you, / I can’t tell what I’ve done already. / No orb-weaving spiders here are poisonous.

  I dealt with so many of your traits / & I never questioned them. / My geniuses. / And yes, T., / you most surely are one.

  You left / and here I am / calling in the troops. / Your daughter would like a photo of you. / I tell her you are helping. / I hope you are still alive.

  T., use that star map well. / Know the stars will change & move. / Know Orion is set to go nova.

  My life is a miraculous disaster.

  Because what he does is more remarkable than remembering my birthday. / Not that I wouldn’t like that, / but I forgive it. / Rather traditional.

  There is an image. / Me kissing my hand / turning it out to send it to you.

  Your Father had me move all over the world. / Now I’m just trying to make one safe place for you.

  Tamara, / you keep fucking working / always fucking working. / You take breaks to cry. / But you always keep fucking working.