Author Archives: Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez

As he stood contemplating the poster of John-John on the wall, he heard behind him, “Escuse me, Meester Kopechne…?” He suddenly became aware that the address had been repeated a third time.

He snapped round to the door, startled. “Miz de los Ángeles. Mimi.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you…? Hey, are you alright?”

“Oh, yes. Eet was nothing. An’ you? Are you alright?”

Justin was rather intrigued by her solicitude. “Well, yes. Why do you ask?”

“I heard you and Mees Hopewell arguing. An’ I saw Meesees Kopechne come out. She looked upset.”

Justin was surprised and rather embarrassed that a student had witnessed the knock-down drag-out between himself and the school principal. “Uh, Mimi, you know you really shouldn’t stay in the school building after classes are over. Why do I find you here after hours so often?”

At this point, still seeing Justin as teacher and authority figure, Mimi was a bit concerned about his disapproval. “I was joos’…I joos’ deedn’t wan’ to go yet.”

“Mimi, Bee Bee is in custody. He can’t hurt you anymore. Come on, I’ll—”

“Ees not that. I’m use’ to that.”

“You used to—?”

She hurriedly interrupted him to avoid the question or objection she knew he was going to make. “—Ees tha’…I wan’ to wait until ees not so hot…so bright—after thee sun goes down.”

“Mimi, this time of year the sun going down doesn’t make all that much difference in the temperature.”

“I know. But eet feels cooler. Menos fuerte…Eh, not so…e-strong(?).”

Justin hesitated, trying to get a feeling for exactly what was going on there. Was she telling the truth about her concerns? “Mimi, you’re trembling.”

“No, ees’ nothing. Eet happens often. I’m use’ to eet, too. I joos’ wan’ to wait a while, joos’ until ees not so bright outside. E-eef you don’ min’.”

The fact that that was the second time she’d mentioned brightness aroused Justin’s curiosity. He wondered exactly what it was that she was afraid of…or concerned about. “All right. Can you tell me what it really is that frightens you?”

She hesitated. “…You’ll theenk I’m crasy.”

“No, Mimi, I won’t. I promise.”

“Ee’s why I’m here. For what I deed, yes, but tha’ was joos’ a part of eet. Eet came from that. I can’ stand to go out during thee day. There ees joos’ too mush! Too mush noise and bother. The air ees so hot an’ thee weend blows so lonely and desolado; like it would burn your skeen off. An’ eet carries the smell of…pudre(?).

“Rot.”

“But worst of all, ee’s too bright!—too brigh’ to see anytheeng! I get lost weeth thee sun piercing my eyes like a thousand needles. Eet all comes flooding eento me. Thee people so lonely, thee creepled dogs weeth nothing on their bones. I get so co’fused and …separada…e-separate. Scared of losing, of being lost.” She paused a moment to look at her teacher, hoping against hope that he might understand. “Soy loca, ¿no?” Justin shakes his head no. “I am.”

Justin sighs. “…Maybe the world is crazy, Mimi.” Justin came to a decision. “Tell you what: why don’t we sit down and talk for a while till the sun sets. Then we’ll get you back to your dorm.” He sat back in an armchair, and after a moment’s hesitation, Mimi finally lights on the sofa facing him. “Now, is there something you wanted to tell me or ask me?”

“Well, I… Thee las’ poem we talked about een class…?”

“Acquainted with the Night. Yes…? What about it?”

“I…I’m sorry no one else was eenterested.”

Justin was amazed at her perception and her feeling of empathy. It made him hesitate a moment in wonder at such insight, such awareness, in one so young. “Yes, well…that’s something I have to learn to accept at a school like this. Or so I’m told.”

Mimi hesitated but was just too fascinated. “Why are you here, Meester Kopechne? Eet seems like you should be teaching at some beeg colleje or sometheeng.”

This was a thorny issue for Justin, and he answered a bit brusquely. “Yes well, questions like that never have simple answers, do they? Uh, there was something about the Frost poem.”

Mimi sensed his discomfort and in uncertainty started to get up to leave. “I joos’…I don’ know.”

“No wait, wait, Mimi. I-I’m sorry. I… Please…please sit.” Justin took a moment to get over being embarrassed by Mimi’s question. “…It’s a beautiful poem, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes! Eet…I don’ know how to say eet. Ee’s… well, I never heard what I thought and felt said so…so…”

“Uhm, accurately…?” Justin suggested.

“Yes, but more than that. Een Santo Niño where I leeved, I use’ to go for walks een thee night. You know, when I was…when I needed to be alone—alone weeth my dog?” She started to cry at the mention of her beloved companion. Justin recognized the pain and wondered how far he could go to comfort her. Crying copious tears, she continued. “An’ eet always felt so…I mean, thee dark was e-scary but at thee same time eet was like being…en madre(?).

Justin was fascinated. “In the womb.”

“Y…Yes.”

With a bit of a smile, Justin said, “I guess it sounds more poetic in Spanish.”

Mimi took Justin’s interest as license to go on. “I ha’ sush though’s when I use’ to walk at night. An’ sush feelings. But I can’ say them. Eet was like he, eh…like he was e-saying them for me.” 

Justin started to speak but then stopped himself. 

“Ee’s e-strange an’ eet makes no e-sense but eet was so alone tha’ I had thees feeling of not being…separada, e-separate…of not being one theeng or another, but like being all…of losing yourself een that darkness, that blackness an’ becoming all of eet. Eet makes no sense, but eet felt like eef you made yourself alone enough, you could finally be…eh, together…whole.” She paused in an embarrassed concern that what she was saying were the words of a lunatic. “I don’ know.”

Justin paused in absolute amazement, then finally said, “I don’t know, either.”

“I know, ees e-stupid. Eet makes no e-sense.”

“Mimi, that’s not what I meant. Not at all.”

After a moment, once she was assured that her teacher was not taking what she was saying as utter lunacy, she continued. “We leeved almos’ een thee country, at thee etch of town. The eh…como se dice?”

“…Outskirts?” Justin suggested.

“Tha’s a funny word.”

Justin took a moment to think about that. “Yes, it is,” he chuckled.

“I would go as far from thee e-ceety as I could eento the desert because eet would be darker there and I could joos’ get lost een eet—lost een thee huge blanket of e-stars so e-soft and gentle, een all thee darkness, like wrapped een a…capullo(?)”

“A cocoon.”

“Not joos’ because I deedn’t have to do anytheeng but not have to decide anytheeng, judge anytheeng, be anytheeng. Ay, I feel so e-stupeed!”

Justin just managed to get in a quiet “No—” before Mimi continued.

“—but eet was thee e-sounds and e-smells and thee feel of e-sand through my toes—thee…e-swirling of the chotacabras?…eh, naighthawks(?), thee tecolotes(?)”

“Owls.”

They sound so…foreign or…” She couldn’t think of the word… “Ay!”

“Alien…?” Justin offered.

“Yes!” 

“Probably screech owls.” He did his best to approximate the eerie whistle of the eastern screech owl.

“¡Sí, sí, así! And thee horses, eh…” Mimi has trouble pronouncing it “wheen-y-eeng and thee cows, and thee coyotes howling so lonely, the fluttering of the murciélagos…eh, bats! An’ all like that. 

“Ees deeferent from what Meester Frost heard and e-saw but somehow ee’s thee same, you know?”

“Yes, I do know,” Justin answered with an emphasis.

“Eet was like I could get lost in thee night…een all the others, thee life, thee e-sounds an’ e-smells so e-soft an’ gentle; an’ be weeth them, este…of them. Like they would e-swallow me eenside them an’ I cou’ be. Not be! Like een water, joos’ floating, weeth all…all. Like being…en madre.” She looked deeply into her teacher’s eyes. ¿Me entiende?”

Justin took a breath in wonder at what he had just heard. “Oh, yes, I do understand. I certainly do.” They looked at each other for a long moment. It became unsettling for both. “I’m, uh…I’m glad you came, Mimi, that’s…really…” The discomfort seemed to increase for Justin, and he was impelled to stand.  “Well, listen. I, uh…I-I’ve got a lot of papers to grade here…lesson plans to figure out. Uh…”

“Oh, oh chure. Of course.” She stood, glanced quickly at him and started for the door, then stopped before stepping through it and turned around. “Can I as’ you one more theeng?”

“…Of course.”

“Who ees thees boy een thee peecture?”

The question aroused Justin’s own curiosity. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Many times, when I pass by ou’side, I see you e-staring at eet…when you are not leestening to the sinsontes, eh…mock-ing-birts.”

Justin started to comment on her interest, even preoccupation with him, then thought better of it. “That’s John-John. John Kennedy’s son—at his father’s funeral. Do you know who he was, John Kennedy?”

“Was he a preseedent?

“Yes. Do you know what happened to him?”

“Was he keeled?”

“Yes. The word is ‘assassinated’.”

“Oh, like een Spaneesh, asesinado.”

“Yes.” Again, they looked at each other another awkward moment.

She tried to pronounce the word in English. “When was he ass-ass-een-ated?”

“Uh, November 22, 1963. Why?”

“What time in thee day?

“Uh, I think it was around twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Why?”

“Een thee daytime.”

Justin’s curiosity at her questions mounted. “Yes…Why?”

Mimi paused for a good while, looking at the picture herself. Then back to Justin. “I don’ know.” She again stopped herself before the open doorway and turned to say, “Thank you Meester Kopechne.”

“Oh, thank you. This was a wonderful conversation. I’ve definitely learned from it.”

Mimi started out the door but stopped again, not looking back at first.

“Mimi…? Is there something else?”

She turned around this time and said, “The poem, you… No, joos’ thank you.”

“Mimi, what about the poem?”

She hesitated, then with her gaze averted, said, “I loved thee way you read eet.”

For a moment, Justin is moved beyond an ability to speak. He is just able to get out a quiet, “Thank you.”

Again, Mimi hesitated. “What, Mimi?” 

“Well, I was joos’ wondering, uh…eef you could maybe…? No.” She turns to go.

“Mimi, what?”

“Eef you cou’ e-say eet again? Or joos’ a part of eet?”

For a considerable moment, Justin was so touched and so intrigued that he simply stood there in amazement at this uncannily poetic, sainted soul, so out of place in this chasm of depravity. He wondered how she could possibly survive it. He was also unnerved by how much he was drawn to her, being like drink to a man dying of thirst. Finally, he just acceded to her request.

“…All right.”