spanish class
when i was sixteen my brother and i took a spanish class
it was at the local community college. he joined in because i was there, or maybe i joined the class because he was, but the fact
of the matter stood was that we were
together.
we sat next to each other sometimes, mostly next to two sisters — one in her twenties, one in her thirties
we would work together, and understood each other as
families often do.
(meaning that—
our souls are attached by
tin can telephone strings.
we can’t cut them without losing
the sound of our own voice)
the class was fun.
my brother was smart. i had only to turn to him, ask him a question, and he would explain it to me
i tried not to ask him too many questions.
i was already his kid sister. i had to be smart, had to keep up with him. i had to earn my place.
(do little sisters ever earn their place?)
at the end of the semester, the class was split into two groups:
girls versus boys, boys versus girls.
we had to do a pop oral quiz
and it came down to the two of us
i can’t remember the question, only that it was asked
and there was silence, expectation.
his brow furrowed.
i waited.
time
passed
slowly.
light entered his eyes
now was the chance
to throw in the towel
but not make it easy
i had to time this perfectly
but my tongue was too quick
i opened my mouth—
[applause]
he turned to me, after class
walking back to the car
“that wasn’t fair,” he told me
“it wasn’t,” i agreed readily
“you didn’t really win”
“i didn’t”
he wanted to go on, but he couldn’t
not when i agreed with him
so he kept his words to himself, the injustice of
losing an unfair fight
i had done what i was supposed to. he wanted to win, but win well. i couldn’t throw in the towel, pretend to be stupid. i couldn’t let him win that way.
i had to actually try and then he could win, because he was smart and he deserved it.
i had things going for me; all pretty girls do.
boys need the help.
i won by accident, and unfairly, and agreed with him when that was the case.
i shouldn’t have won.
but i wonder too, if my younger sister had won
if i would have turned around and told her that she didn’t deserve it.
i like to think that i would just accept it
but then again, i would probably
throw in the towel for her
because she’s my little sister.
now i pause in my past. maybe that’s what he did.
did he throw in the towel for me, many times?
how many times?
maybe this time he actually tried not to.
maybe that’s what was upsetting:
that the whole world would become
just as small as our childhood home.
we never took a class together again.
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