Korê in New York

What happens when a kid refuses to leave the past behind? What happens when the past won't go away? Read on and don't worry about the emotional damage.

1. One of them At Least

   Tuesday brought nothing but frustration. The day at school was OK. I guess I don’t remember it much because rehearsals were just awful. That I was not the only one having trouble, didn’t make it any better. My dance troupe as I came to think of it, had unusual lighting demands. I got the gel colors mixed right. I even replaced several gels on the battens without falling or further injuring myself, but the dancers wanted several silhouettes of the Manhattan skyline, and those required a special projector which I did not know how to operate or integrate well into a lighting system.

   I made all the dumb mistakes first timers make. The dancers danced in front of an inverted skyline, one on its side, one placed too far off stage. I got an extra half hour booth time learning to get the it half right, but you know half right is not good enough.

   “You’re going to get it, Bihar, just fucking keep working at it. Silhouettes are a class one bitch,” Micah consoled me as we walked toward the subway. He had to take a train farther into Brooklyn. I was going all the way to Columbia to meet RoAnn and the siblings. We’d study together for a bit and then head back to the Ardsley for a late supper. RoAnn would probably get Kapor’s sandwiches for Ivanna. Our family was nothing if not predictable. I was glad of that.

   “Thanks,” I told Micha and a lump stuck in my throat.

   “Awww, don’t go all fucking to pieces on me. You girls cry way too much,” he complained.

   “I’m just tired and frustrated,” I told him blinking back a few tears.

   “Your not getting your monthly visitor?”

   “I got that the beginning of April,” I reminded him.

   “It’s been a month.”

   “Mine doesn’t visit every month.”

   “Shit, that’s bad.”

   “No, I’m not quite fifteen and it’s the way my body works.”

   “I’m glad I’m not a fucking girl.”

   “Well, I’m glad I’m not a boy,” I retorted.

   Micha shook his head. “Yeah, but girls make everything complicated. This is the first year we’ve had two girls in lighting crew and…fuck, it’s worse than I ever expected. You and Wang carry on all the time. Ohhh….Ohhh…Ohhh… Ewww… Ewww… Ewwww….You should hear yourselves. Then the drama club girls do it too. And when you have an exam. I just don’t want to watch what goes on when the scores go up. It’s huggie time. All the girls hug their friends and their enemies.”

   “We’re glad to see our friends do well,” I replied. “We’re in this together.”

   “And what are you going to do when they score you on a curve in college,” Micha suddenly got serious. We were down in the subway now and set to go our separate ways, but Micha wasn’t going anywhere.

   “Work with my friends to beat the curve together,” I answered.

   Micha snorted and we set off each in separate directions. I think I dozed a bit on the subway. I switched trains in Time Square and rode uptown. I passed the bodega and a few academic buildings and then I saw them by the side entrance to Main Hall which was still open for evening classes, and thus the easiest one to enter, except today it wasn’t easy.

   The picketers stood with well made signs and electronic cameras filming their every move. Other protesters handed out leaflets to students. The signs and the leaflets said: “RoAnn Testa — Child Abuser.” The pamphlets, one of which I took, had pictures of the kind of lock we had had to keep Ivanna from sneaking out of the apartment at the Ardsley.

   I jammed the pamphlet angrily into my in old, in-between coat pocket. I did not need this kind of aggrivation on a  good day, and I surely did not need it now. Then I got hold of myself. I looked at the faces on the picket line. Go-along-to-get-along Nicole was there. Talented Eliza from Houghton was there. The boy with the leather pants from Houghton was there. His name was Philip. Eden who also had a dress code exemption and bought all her clothes at Saks because her mother made her (She preferred certain exclusive boutiques of course…) was there.

   And then I saw who else was there: Stephenna Crowe, Marta Arrowhood, and the Marta clone whom went by the name Unity_grrl on Twitter. “Who needs closure when the past never dies?” I thought. Then I wondered about Ivanna. Was she inside? Did the protesters talk to her? What did she tell them?

   And what about Nervyworm? I walked up to Eliza whom I still think has more brains than Nicole. I’d talk to Nicole too, I thought. “You leave my little sister alone,” I said.

   “Ivanna’s not your sister,” sing-songed Eden.

   “I don’t mean Ivanna. I mean Minerva. She’s five years old, assholes! You saw her with Dr. Testa. RoAnn Testa’s our stepmother.”

   Several kids in the picket line giggled. A few snorted. “She’s five years old goddamnit!” I screamed.

   “Easy,” cautioned Stephenna Crowe. “You got in trouble at Houghton because you wouldn’t chill. Haven’t you learned anything?”

   “Thank God no!” I snapped back. “Mess with my little sister and you’re going to be sorry,” I threatened.

   “Ooohhh…I’m so scaird,” Philip cried out.

   “It’s all bullshit,” commented the Unity_grrrl.

   “What happened at Houghton was kid stuff,” I told the protesters. “Shit like that happens. I got out and I don’t care, but if you hurt my family, you’re going to regret it, understand?”

   “What are you going to do?” asked Marta Arrowhood herself.

   “Do you think I’m going to tell any of you,” I replied. I realized I was bluffing.

   Inside, Main Hall, the air was overheated and stale. I still shivered as I climbed the stairs. On a bulletin board in the department lounge were still images taken from YouTubes featuring the protesters. Above the images were the words: “Freedom of Expression.” I stared at the pictures. “They’re not just messing with my whole family,” I thought angrily. “They’re messing with everyone who works in this department or who has classes in this building,” and I wondered if my stepmother’s colleagues were sticking by her.

   Then I saw Nervy at the table trying to draw a vase with dried out pyracantha berries in it, or maybe the berries were fake. She didn’t care one bit about the Youtube images. I was glad. I went back to studying the images, looking for old classmates, and friends of Ivanna, and I froze….

   Ivanna was in several of the pictures. In one she smiled into the camera heroically. In another Eliza, Eden, Nicole, and several other girls were embracing her in a group hug. In a third she waved as she walked into Main Hall.

   “Ivanna,” I thought. “You’re a Goddamn point whore! You sold yourself. You testified the way they told you so you could be the center of drama for ECBAS. They paid you well. You’re going to fly through that fucking audition. All your friends will love you, and you’ll have lots of friends….as long as you do what you’re told and you don’t know how to do anything else. Pig! Filthy pig! That’s what you are! You don’t care who you hurt as long as you get that spotlight. And when they get tired of shining it on you, you’ll ask what else you can do for more points and more fame. Shit head! I’m ashamed that you are my sister!”

   I ran down the hall and flew into RoAnn’s office which was quiet because she and her colleague, Emily were working on their computers. Ivanna was nowhere to be found. “Where is she?” I asked.

   “Who?” asked Emily.

   “Ivanna. She’s not even here…”

   “She’s at Hallston Studio auditioning,” RoAnn answered as if Ivanna had auditions every day.

   “She’s in those videos!” I screamed.

   “I’m in them too,” RoAnn replied. “They asked us if we wanted to say anything.”

   “Did you sign a release?” I asked. This was a great way to get the videos pulled.  Young Achievers had a legal team and…

   “Yes,” replied RoAnn.

   “And did Ivanna sign one?” I sputtered.

   “Yes. They dotted all the i’s and crossed all the t’s.”

   “RoAnn isn’t afraid of anybody,” Emily told us.

   “The protesters are entitled to be here as long as they don’t block business in the building. The sidewalk is city property and Columbia believes in intellectual freedom.”

   “Nervy has to see all this,” I reminded RoAnn.

   “So she’ll learn about how freedom of speech works,” RoAnn answered.

   “You’re the only parent who can take care of her,” I argued back. “She doesn’t need to see you insulted.”

   “She’s going to have to get used to growing up the way things are now,” RoAnn’s brave face never came off. It was glued on. It never came off even when my youngest sister was concerned.

   “I’m going to take care of things if you don’t,” I threatened.

   “How’re you going to do that?” RoAnn asked.

   “Can I borrow your computer?” I asked my stepmother.

   “What are you going to do with it?” she asked.

   “Look up the school year at Grinell University in Iowa,” I answered. “Stephenna Crowe goes to Grinell.”

   I knew Stephenna’s father did not want his daughter in New York during the school year. Mom had done private consulting for the Crowes and could reach Stephenna’s parents when other people couldn’t, and Mom was just a cell phone call away. I drifted out into the hall.

   Mom picked up on the third ring. I explained the whole situation. While I was explaining, RoAnn and Emily both emerged from their office. Mom had the phone numbers and would be glad to call Stephenna’s parents. “Don’t mess with Wolf Balls,” I thought as I told my mother I loved her and hung up.

   “Do you feel better?” Emily asked. For some reason I wanted to slap her face.

   “Yes,” I answered. Among the shit heads protesting downstairs, there was going to be one very unhappy little turd.

   “Come on in the office and study,” RoAnn said to me. “You’ve got work to do, and we’re picking up Ivanna and nine. Then we’re going to Emmick’s for ice cream to celebrate.”

   I did not feel like a celebration any more than I felt like doing school work.

   “Kore, if Ivanna gets involved enough with the things she loves doing, they’ll matter more than ECBAS some day. She’ll also seen new and better role models and have friends who don’t share her politics.”

   “That’s the theory.”

   “It’s better than what I tried before. If this works, it will be the best thing I can do for my daughter.”

   I stared at the floor. RoAnn had just admitted she did not know what to do, which meant if we kids were clueless, then nobody knew what to do. “…And in the fall,” RoAnn continued. “She’ll be in with a different bunch of kids. There won’t be ECBAS as a major part of her life anymore.”

   “What if she goes back to North Carolina?” I asked.

   “It’s not going to happen. Anthony agreed to let her testify about the apartment even though he knew what our legal team would probably say about him. He was willing to give up Ivanna for the good of ECBAS. He sold his daughter for ideological reasons.”

   “That makes him a bigger point whore than Ivanna.”

   “No, not points, i-dee-ol-ogy. Anthony is a fanatic. He has his reasons, but he’s not close enough to his daughter to put her ahead of the cause, understand? Ivanna is going to have to live with that, but right now I’m glad because it’s giving me my best shot to get my daughter back.

   “It’s going to take a while. Those protesters will be gone in a few weeks. Ivanna will have her dancing, her yoga, her new school, and her new friends. Nature will take its course. We’re not going to have to fight.”

   I wasn’t sure I believed in what RoAnn was saying. RoAnn seemed to believe though. Adults though could convince themselves to believe all sorts of bullshit. “At least I got one of them,” was all I could answer. Maybe some day I could get all of the rest.

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