Because Page 6
is full of danger and risk;
because right now it is spring
and neither of us
is married, neither has children,
so the answer is easy —
I clink my bottle to hers and
let the too-sweet beer
carry her doubts into my belly;
because food is on the way;
because the answer she wants
is the one I can’t give her;
Vienna, 2005 – Fall
Because the room is a bench
in the baroque square
where I sit with my father
and his many questions;
because he wants to know how
he didn’t know, how he
could have been so blind
to the friend he thought
he knew so well; because some lives
are simply unknowable,
but how can that be true when
truth speaks for itself?;
because he wants to know,
or needs to know,
how to review the evidence
for himself, so it starts,
and, strangely, I am happy
to indulge him,
to let his questions structure
the story, give it shape;
because my father is a man
who probes for clarification
even if the details are more
than he can stomach;
because it’s still new to me, too,
all this talking,
and my father is determined
to remain detached,
above it, like a scientist studying
the behaviour of a tribe,
and he wants to show me
he isn’t afraid
to get his hands dirty; because
like every scientist
he operates from a hypothesis:
the good family,
the educated family, the boy
who was taught
right from wrong; because
he wants to know how
his son could let something
like this happen to him:
Remember when I quizzed you?
when I told you
if anything ever happened,
you wouldn’t get into trouble?;
because it still hurts him
to think that Don
didn’t actually value his friendship;
because for five years
I’d helped him believe
nothing had happened to me,
that Don preyed only on boys
from broken homes,
boys without fathers; because
Don’s desires obviously
weren’t limited to a demographic —
his entire business
depended on his friends;
because my father
cannot tell me he is relieved
his youngest daughter
was spared; because a daughter
is safe, a father is also
lucky; because he doesn’t yet see
how his daughter was used
as bait for love-sick boys,
as were all our sisters;
because, like most fathers, what
he had worried about most
was her ability to survive us:
our wild, unchecked
minds, our grubby hands;
because it was a relief
when summer ended and no one
came home pregnant;
Montréal, 1997 – Summer
Because the room is an unmade
bed scented with perfume
and sweat and dirty sheets
where you’ve awoken
from a dream in which Don
has found his way once
again into your body; because
once again you’ve failed
to resist the weight of his arms
on your chest, his anxious
hands, his exploring mouth;
because the moment
he lets you go you wake up fast
and the woman next to you
wants to know what you were
dreaming — it’s like you
were drowning, she says, like you
were stuck under water —
and for some reason you can’t stop
laughing, because it’s true,
Don is like water to you,
and so for the first time,
you decide to tell her the truth
if only to make it true;
because to recount the myth
of yourself is to destroy it:
so you start with the image
of a boy in a loincloth
covered in war paint, holding
a spear in one hand
and a medicine staff in the other;
because his hair
is braided with feathers;
because severed wings
are strapped to his arms;
because there are others
in this picture, boys whose faces
are obscured by paint,
whose names he cannot say;
because one of them
holds the long, mottled feather
of a young bald eagle,
you know it’s his turn now —
in this way, the myth
is ready: we had a feather,
only those who held it
were allowed to speak;
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My gratitude to the many friends who took the time to read this manuscript at various stages and offer their insights, critiques, and encouragement. There are more of you than I have space to name here. But I would be remiss not to mention the generosity, in particular, of Sara Peters, Natashia Deón, Jessica Mensch, James Mensch, Steve Hardy, Jakub Ku˘cera, and Robin Elliott, for graciously letting me bomb them with multiple early drafts and responding to each with valuable and substantial advice.
My eternal gratitude, as well, to those readers of later drafts, whose insights and encouragement came at critical moments in the development of the book, especially Christopher Crawford, Kate Singer, Stephan Delbos, Donna Stonecipher, Michael Stein, Justin Quinn, Joshua Weiner, Stanley Plumly, Michael Collier, Keith Driver, Bradley Paul, Matthew Olzmann, Clare Banks, Michael Theune, Greig Sargent, L.S. McKee, and Ben Williams, whose questions and comments opened up new ways of thinking about the book I was trying to write.
Francesca Bell and Jan Zikmund deserve special thanks for their great patience in reading each of my “final” drafts before I was ready to turn it in to my publisher.
Immense gratitude to my editor, Jill Bialosky, for her insights, and for believing in this book; and to Drew Weitman, for guiding me through the publication process with patience and élan. For their early and critical endorsements: Stanley Plumly, Michael Collier, Stephanie Burt, Donna Stonecipher, Ernest Hilbert, and Joanne Diaz.
A bow of thanks and acknowledgement to my teachers, who often went well beyond the call of duty to offer their support and encouragement as I was figuring out how to write, and whose friendship and generosity continued well past the expiration date of their responsibilities: Eleanor Mutimer, Richard Jackson, Greg O’Dea, Stanley Plumly, Joshua Weiner, Michael Collier, and Elizabeth Arnold.
Profound thanks to Antonín Lukeš for his many years of friendship and employment, and for giving me the time I needed to complete this book, even while I was being paid to do other things.
Finally, but always first, to my wife, Zuzana Sklenková—without your love and friendship nothing useful would have come of my life. I love you.
Note on the Chronology: While I was usually able to recall the year and the general time of year, I could not always recall the exact month when certain events took place. Arranging the scenes by season allowed me to organize the chronology in a way that was true to memory as I recalled it, and plausible in the light of facts that I was able t
o verify later.
Copyright © 2018 by Joshua Mensch
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