Even the Ugly Smile

I am a teacher.

The powerful give me money so I control them. These people have no idea. I am nobody, but to them I am everybody. I hear the phone calls and read the emails. I am going to a deli today, She tells a friend. I go to the deli before hand. Make sure the owner knows what the two are and are not going to order. I watch when they finally go into the deli. Can I have some milk with that, they ask. I laugh. No they cannot have milk! The owner says no we are out of milk. I am still smiling. They leave the deli because of this. She cannot have breakfast without milk. I know these things. There is another place down the road. She will go there and I know this too. I have told the owner here to make sure She orders the bagel I gave to him. She will ask for a brownie, I tell the owner. But She cannot have a brownie. You will give Her this bagel, I say. He nods because he understands. She enters with Her friend. May I have a brownie? No, we are out of brownies. Shit, She whispers under Her breathe. Well I will have a bagel. Yes She will have a bagel. Of course She will have a bagel! I know these things. He hands Her the bagel I gave to him. She gets cream cheese. This is not a problem. She eats it and receives the nutrients She needs. I am happy about this. She will grow as I have been instructed to grow Her.

I am on rooftops. I am underground. And in cars. I am that man you pass on the street and ignore. I try to look like everyone. I try to look like no one. Short, dark hair. Medium build. I do not work out. I eat healthy. I sit and I stand and I walk. But I do not run. My God I do not run. She is going to a party tonight. She will meet a man named Bryan. She will like him a lot. I have told Bryan, who is a smaller boy with terrible habits, that he will let Her like him. He will foster this adoration. And then he will drop Her. Never speak to Her again. She will learn a lesson. She will eventually grow to hate this type of person and not marry a man like him. I am putting wood on a fire. This lesson is important and I will be paid well for it. She rarely drinks because of the rohypnol I had placed in Her drink. She had a bad night and I was paid well for it. She runs often because I had Her clothes exchanged for the small size. She is under the impression that She is fat. And because of this there is running. And I am paid well for it. Do you understand? This is my job. I place walls and set traps. I foster insecurities to eventually sprout confidence.

She meets Bryan. She likes him. I told him to offer Her a cigarette. The cigarette will be laced. It will make Her sick. She will never smoke again. She tells Her friends to talk to Bryan. He says he is interested in Her too. I give it two weeks and make Bryan end it. He is unhappy and uncooperative but he does what he has to do. My dead bird to rocks thrown ratio is impressive. I will sleep well tonight.

The microphone Her parents placed in Her at birth is just above Her breasts. An insignificant amount of skin covers it. When She opens wrappers I cringe. Such a small and intimate noise. It is terrible. I want to make Her stop opening wrapped things. But that is not a necessary lesson. I wanted to make Her hate black people. The parents threatened to fire me. I am a racist and they are not. She has gotten to the point where black men scare Her though. I promise I did not do that one. Call me a bastard. I dare you. Stone me. If any of you people have not sinned throw some Goddamn stones at me! She has a dirty mouth, just like I do. The parents tell me to fix that. I will do it later. She is so young. She can curse till She is 20 I have decided. I am in a car now. She cannot see me but I see Her. She passes me and looks into the window. Her face, Her skin, those legs, I know every detail. She is made of clay that I am still smoothing out. Her eyes slide over me like I am nothing. This is good. I bumped into Her on the street once. It was an accident and I blushed. She said sorry and I looked at the ground. So scared. I had to sit down and calm my nerves. The lesson today will be a small one.

I wake up. I shower. I do not shave till night. I put on casual clothes. My television is of Her. My radio is of Her. I own no computer. I own a pager and I have a mailbox. I pour a bowl of cereal each morning. Two percent milk. I take too many pills and then get into the car. In the passengers seat there may or may not be a package. I never have a day off. But sometimes I have busier days than others. I only speak to the people that influence Her. The package will have papers, pictures, and on the cover page will be the lessons of the day. There is also a sandwich. Wheat bread, peanut butter, and jelly. Grape jelly. This means it will be a busy day. The lessons read:

         Today She will learn how to stand up for herself (Part 1 of 20)

         Today She will learn how to abandon a friend of bad influence (Part 2 of 2)
         
         Today She will learn how to make dressing (Part 1 of 1)
                   As thanksgiving is approaching!

         Today She will learn how to be sympathetic (Part 33-42 of 450)

I am excited about that second one. The first part was entertaining. It will end smoothly and brutally. The sympathetic lesson has taken a pretty extended period of time. I have had a hard time thinking up how to construct such a lesson. I am not a sympathetic person. I am not sentimental. At the end of the page are some things She needs to do. These are not to be confused with lessons. They are in no particular order.

         She will need to:
                   -Buy groceries. (She has the list)
                   -Go on a run.
                   -Buy some new shoes (For goodness sake!)
-Meet a man named Alex (This is not a lesson, we just are just preparing something)
-And as usual, stay away from Margaret, Rachel, Damien, Taylor, Rich, Mike, Timothy, Bryan, Molly, and that tall boy with blonde hair and the cigarette addiction (We simply could not remember his name)

The list keeps going. Continues to be boring. It is a cold day. She is not wearing a jacket. This is not good. I make a phone call. This man then makes a phone call. He tells a woman who lives a block away to make another phone call. This woman then fills a bucket of water. Ice water (as instructed). One more phone call and a well-aimed toss later, She receives the water. It is sloppy and silly. I had to think quick and could have done this with better execution. She runs back to her room. Cold as hell. Changes and puts on a jacket. She meets up with a friend. This one is named Allan. I hate his name and I hate him. His face is tight like something is pulling it from the inside of his head. His eyes are too far apart and are never open wide enough. His teeth are too yellow. His neck is too long. This boy would not survive in nature. He would be killed and eaten. For his genes are poor. She would survive. And She will survive. Allan has HIV. I know these things. She does not. It is fine for Her to see him because there will be no sex. I do not even need to intervene. They both know it is a friendship. Allan is a sad boy. He whines often. It is so cold, he keeps saying. He is uncomfortable around Her and tries to fill in the silence as much as he can. He utilizes phrases like:
         I like coffee a lot, but I don’t like the way it makes my stomach feel.
         My feet are big.
         My feet hurt.          
         That girl was hot.
         That guy looked like a douche bag.
         I like to go fishing, but I hate fish.
         Bugs scare me.          
         It is cold.
         It is so cold.
         Holy shit, it is really cold.
         Im tired.
         Im sleepy.
         Is there something up my nose?
         I always feel like there is something up my nose.

He is the fruition of years and years of evolutionary triumph!

I am singing out loud right now. A song that I know the tune to, but do not know the words. I make them up. My words are about my mother or something. It isn’t important. I received a phone call this morning about a new project. It’s a girl again. Which for some reason is much more interesting. This is in no way perverted. Just as a child I always wondered…

The phone call was long. I told them to send me a letter. They thought it was funny that I had no computer. They work a lot. They cannot raise her properly. If I accepted the job and did nothing. Never even laid one eye on this girl. Would she turn out that bad? I am ruining natural processes. Stepping on the toes of gods and wearing suits of armor in thunderstorms. I find this interesting. The thought of armor made me think of death. I am frightened of death. This is not important.

I do the things I do every morning. These repeated events mess with my memory. If something happens in the morning. The date will be forgotten. What anchor do I have? This is not important either. My mind wanders recently.

The car is in the same spot. Always in that damn spot. I open the package. No sandwich. It will be an easy day. There are no exciting lessons. I do my rounds. Speak to Her daily breakfast place. Give them the food She will eat. I speak to a person who will be stealing Her purse today. She has this awful habit of hanging the purse on the tips of Her fingers. This can no longer happen. I call the credit card companies. Have the cards canceled and order Her new ones. She will be spending the night with a friend tonight. There is a phone number at the bottom of the page of lessons and assignments. I go to a pay phone and, well, we all know what I did in there. 
         Hello?
         How is She doing?
         Oh. She is doing well. Nothing new, I’ll be having Her purse stolen today. I’ve already worked out the credit card issues.
         Who did you find to do that?
         Some black guy.
         …
         I mean he’s fine. He wont hurt Her.          
         You are not doing your job as well as you used to.
I know. I mean, Is there any time soon that I can have a day off or something? I’m getting really tired.
         She needs Her lessons.
         Can you guys not, like, handle Her for even a weekend?
         You know that She can’t handle things without you.
         Well She’s a damn human. She’ll be fine for a few days without me. She won’t even notice. Even used the restroom all by her self yesterday.
         That’s not funny.
         I know.
         Have you been letting her curse?
         No.
         You will have a day off when we can work something out.
         This girl, She’s… well, in nature there are these turtles. I don’t know their names. If you help them cross the beach into the ocean when they hatch, they won’t be powerful enough to survive to adulthood. I saw this on TV a while ago. And-
         I have to go.
         Of course you do.
         Don’t let her curse.
         Im getting really tired. Please try to work something out.
         Do not let her curse.

And there it ended. They think they are in a movie. They think they are part of something larger than themselves. Talking properly and saying shit like, She needs her lessons. I would quit this job, but She would flounder and drown. She would not get her nutrients, She would start smoking (and stop running), I care for Her and I cannot let this happen. There are big plans that I have for her in the future! I have all these dreams for her. I have no memories of these past 16 years for myself. They are all of Her. That time when She was tackled by her first dog. I laughed hard! These small things that She does and has always done. The little face She makes when She looks in the mirror. I do love this girl. She is my girl. I am more than Her father. I am Her puppeteer. I have produced this successful little creature.

As a child I wanted to be a humpback whale. The teachers laughed. I was good at drawing the whales. So many fish friends and the colors were all primary. All bright. In high school I had a lot of friends. Drank too much. Smoked too much. Did things for other people. And it’s boring to say, but I never thought I’d end up here. Of course I didn’t think I’d end up here. This is a waste of words. I have wasted 81 words.

She is dancing in front of the mirror. She’s has no rhythm but that’s okay. I forgive Her. And maybe it was this moment. With Her maple hair and that tangerine skin. It should be sparkling there should be bright lights and blasting horns. Thumping organs. Introducing a goddess! The queen with Her hand waving slowly, half cupped and elegant. Men with drums around their waists making the air tight and pulsing. I can feel Her. I can hear Her. She is the most beautiful, the one who causes traffic on the interstate. A freshly cut lawn. She is the springtime and She is the last breathe of the Renaissance. Am I shouting this? Should I be shouting this? I will dive in and I will take her! Oh and if there were chapters this would be the last!