Everywhere the Undrowned by Stephanie Clare Smith

Author:Stephanie Clare Smith [Smith, Stephanie Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The University of North Carolina Press
Published: 2024-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Part 8

A teardrop of green.

—RON MCNAIR, NASA ASTRONAUT

EVER SINCE CAINE on Kung Fu seared his forearms with dragons, I wanted to get a tattoo of my own. The artist in the tattoo parlor asked me twice if I was sure of myself. Not many women in the late 1970s sported tattoos on their arms. But like Caine, I wanted a secret badge I could always keep with me. I sat down in the tattoo artist’s chair with my right arm exposed. A dragon with the wings of a phoenix came to live on my shoulder. Like Caine, I’ve kept her under my sleeve as a creature whose history only I understand.

I dreamed one night that I had another tattoo—red, black, and blue designs swirled over the right side of my face. In the dream it was clear that I’d always had the tattoo and had just learned not to see it. I was shaken to look in the dream mirror and see the marks I couldn’t disguise cover half of my face.

I picked at the red lines that swirled down my neck and up over one eyebrow like tendrils of ivy. Most of them peeled off with some effort, but a block of black on my cheek and a swoosh of blue down my chin were marks that would never come off until the next life or the one after that.

Pretend I’m not here.

On This American Life, a guy asks another guy to choose between two superpowers—invisibility or flight. I was sure they’d choose flight. But the two men on the podcast wanted to slip around in the world as invisible voyeurs. What could be better? they asked one another. Wings! I shouted to the guys on the radio—men who were never pretended away, who see themselves clearly in a world that sees them, who could go dark with their powers and still retain all their worldly advantage. What could be better?

Is it my story that marks me or the telling that does it?

I can tell you this—right before my father left, before I was six, I dreamed I was lost from my mother. The whole dream was too dark, and my panic was a fire. Then right before dawn she was pushed into my view in a baby doll carriage holding a bottle. Her limbs sprawled over the sides and her eyes were dead doll blue.

See how I floated ahead of myself and tried to get ready?

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.