Love and Leftovers Read online

  love

  &

  leftovers

  a novel in verse

  sarah tregay

  Dedication

  For high school Leftovers everywhere

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Part One - DURHAM, NEW HAMPSHIRE

  My Family’s Summerhouse

  The Breakup

  Long Shot

  An Explanation

  Lonely

  Since the Breakup

  Saturday at the Laundromat

  Every Time Dad Calls and Mom Answers

  I Want to Ask Dad Questions Too

  The First Day of School

  The Second Day of School

  Talk about Accents

  The Teachers Hate

  “Martha Iris?”

  I Know I Shouldn’t Put People in Boxes

  Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 1:

  Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 2:

  Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 3:

  Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 4:

  Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 5:

  Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 6:

  When My Mother Takes an Ambien

  The Worst Thing I Have Ever Done

  The Best Thing Linus Ever Did

  Driver’s License Daydreams

  The Boat

  I Don’t Like Lobster Anyway

  Dominoes

  Half-and-Half

  Oyster River High School

  The Leftover Lovers YouTube Performance #1

  I Know I Like Him

  A Feeling Like Falling

  If Only We Could Be Together

  America Runs on Dunkin’

  Give Me a Break, Sam

  Talking to Linus Is Depressing

  BFF

  HOME Is a Four-Letter Word

  September 14–11:45 P.M.

  Speaking of Good-Looking Guys

  Thank God for Football

  I Don’t Have a Dress to Wear

  The Perfect Dress

  J.D. Picks Me Up

  Homecoming at OR

  October 5–11:54 P.M.

  I Close Mom’s Computer

  Middle-of-the-Night Daydreams

  Dinner

  When I Was Little

  When Dad Calls and I Answer

  “You Cut Your Hair?”

  Hairapy

  Until

  Family Hairstory

  My Relatives Are Like Grapes on a Vine

  Money

  The Conversation

  October 11–11:30 P.M.

  Student Housing

  A Bath at Last

  I’ll Be Brief

  Closing Camp

  Bedtime

  The Leftover Lovers YouTube Performance #2

  What I Want to Do

  A Package from Katie

  October 27–12:02 A.M.

  No One to Clink Glasses With

  Katie Rants on the Phone

  Regret

  Frat Boys

  Clothes

  I Love Pizza

  Motherly Advice for the Teenage Soul

  Treats

  Insight

  My Birthday

  Birthday Presents

  At 3:20 That Afternoon Everyone Remembers

  More Birthday Presents

  Three Gifts Are in Blue-and-White Priority Mail Boxes

  After Greta and Arthur Kiss Me Good Night

  My Wish

  After the Guests Have Gone

  Kissing J.D.

  Tomorrow, Tomorrow

  I Inherited It

  Would He Tell Me?

  Procrastination

  Maybe

  The End

  I Told My Mother

  Now

  The Next Best Thing to a Security Blanket

  Morning

  Peeking from Behind My Locker Door

  I Take the Cup of Coffee

  My Sweaters Arrive Parcel Post

  I Open the Envelope Dad Sent

  I Crumple It Up

  Back to the Boxes

  I Explain

  Lambasted

  Katie, You Don’t Understand

  It Was Dumb. I Know.

  What Best Friends Are For

  Trapped

  Home from School (Almost)

  Change Is Good

  I Try Making Friends

  A Silent Thank-you Note

  November 18–11:33 P.M.

  Questions

  Chasing Boys

  Answering Machine Message from Linus

  Baking Pies for Thanksgiving

  Thanksgiving at Aunt Greta’s

  Like Clockwork

  Blue Cafeteria Trays

  How I Learned that the Cutest Jock at OR Had a Crush

  S’mores

  I Don’t Know Who Started It

  Writer’s Block

  J.D. and I

  News to Me

  In the Aftermath of Operation Girlfriend Defreak

  3.1 Miles of Conversation

  Megan

  Telling Truths

  Nickname

  Opportunity Knocks

  Overactive Imagination

  Kissing as a Recreational Sport

  Answering Machine Message from Dad

  Because I Love Her

  Memory

  Illness

  At the Bagel Shop

  At the Laundromat

  Change of Season

  Friends with Benefits

  Thank God

  My Mother Is Wrong

  Overheard

  J.D. Knows to Avoid the Potholes

  “Hi, Daddy!”

  My Father Wraps Me in His Long Arms

  Dad Doesn’t Lecture Me

  Back at Our Apartment

  Funny

  In the Aftermath of Operation Sedate My Mother

  Protesting

  Escort

  How I Got to the Bottom of Things

  Realization

  December 22–8:32 P.M.

  My Good-byes

  Holidaze

  Christmas Dinner

  Comfort

  Back to Bed

  In Bed

  “I Am.”

  Time Well Wasted

  But Before I Left

  Mom’s New Car

  Lobstah Feed

  MapQuest Says

  Part Two - BOISE, IDAHO

  Danny

  Home, in Daylight

  I Don’t Call Linus

  Dad Gives Me a Ride to School

  Hello

  All He Says

  He Stops Kissing Me

  Eating Lunch with the Leftovers

  Silly Hamlet

  Dress Rehearsal

  The Best-Laid Plans

  My World Shatters

  Respect

  Clarification

  Confession

  A Million

  In the Aftermath of the End of the World

  In Burst

  Dad Tries to Hug Me

  Why We Did What We Did

  Dad’s Lecture, Part 2

  Boiled Down

  One More Question

  Staying Home from School Because My Head Hurts

  I Call Mom

  After a Loop around the Park

  Innocent Questions

  I Can’t Believe

  I’m So Stupid

  A Recipe

  To Cheer Me Up

  Temporary Tattoos

  Slumber Party Interruptus

  Tearjerker

  The Truth about Emily

  The Truth about Danny

  My Best Friend Is the Best

  Then Again

  Out of Habit


  Driven

  One Sunday Morning

  Report Card

  So I Make a Study Date with Katie

  Outside on the Thomases’ Front Steps Katie Reveals

  I Gasp

  The House Is Quiet

  That’s How Danny Found Me

  I Tell Danny

  Loner

  Danny Suggested That I Try to Be Understanding

  Eight Seconds Later

  Eight Hours Later

  When I Was in New Hampshire

  My Best Friend Is Falling in Love

  Mom Calls Me

  Talented

  Four-Letter Words

  Judging from the Roar of the Crowd

  The Saturday Show

  Linus Looks So Cute

  Midset

  “The Next Song Isn’t a Cover”

  After the Applause

  Standing Ovation

  The Auditorium Door

  The First Letter I Don’t Send

  P.S.

  The Second Letter I Don’t Send

  Period

  Katie Hasn’t

  I Think

  The Downside of Living with Dad and Danny

  Things I Threw Away

  He Reminds Me

  My Girl

  All Week

  What I’d Say to Katie

  Temper Tantrum

  No One Can Hurt My Heart Inside My Little Ball

  I Am to Blame

  Because I Want My Best Friend Back

  You’re Invited

  Saturday, 1:00 P.M.

  Childish Games

  Roller Coaster

  Flame

  To Love, To Family, To Friends

  I’ve Changed My Mind, All I Want Is Everything

  A Conversation for Adults

  Revelations

  Mom Plans to Come for a Visit

  My Mother Always Told Me

  Wishful Thinking

  What My Ex-Boyfriend Doesn’t Know

  On One Side

  On the Other Side

  Every Morning at the Bus Stop

  Just Silence

  Studying at Katie’s House

  I Can’t Find My Blue Notebook

  Today at the Bus Stop

  Sitting Down

  A Moment of Truth

  My Notebook

  The Cry of a Thousand Years

  Even Though It’s Not Our Stop

  Question

  Rebellion

  Three Choices

  Over Coffee and a Cranberry Scone

  Calculated

  Wishing Well

  “My Life Has Been a Hurricane”

  Skipping School Never Sounded So Good

  Skipping Stones

  Tunnel of Love

  In the Library!

  At Zeppole

  In Both of My Classes

  After the Last Bell

  Walking Daydreams

  Worries

  Notes from My Heart

  What Emily Said

  My Dad Comes Home

  On the Way Home from Pizza

  Kissing My Boyfriend

  Snuggled in Bed

  Dear Marcie

  I Jump Out of Bed and Call Linus

  On the Last Page of My Notebook

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Part One

  DURHAM, NEW HAMPSHIRE

  My Family’s Summerhouse

  My mother

  doesn’t understand

  that this is a summerhouse

  (meant to be lived in

  only during the summer).

  It is almost Labor Day.

  Next week,

  I’ll start my sophomore year

  at Oyster River High School

  in Durham, New Hampshire,

  because she doesn’t have the courage

  to go home

  to Boise, Idaho.

  The Breakup

  On the first Saturday in June,

  Mom and I stopped at Albertsons

  to buy milk and bananas.

  We bumped into Dad,

  who was on his way out—

  a Coke in his hand.

  But Mom forgot about the

  milk and bananas when

  Dad introduced us

  to a friend of his named Danny,

  a bartender at the straight-friendly

  establishment across from the opera.

  Mom’s eyes narrowed

  and her face hardened into granite.

  Then she shot the two of them

  a look hot enough

  to melt flesh.

  Long Shot

  Mom grabbed my wrist,

  pulled me across the parking lot,

  and told me to get in the car.

  She sank into the driver’s seat

  and I watched the granite crumble

  into ragged breaths and searing tears.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “I can’t believe it,” my mother said,

  more to the windshield than to me.

  “Seventeen goddamned years!”

  (That was how long Dad and Mom had been married.)

  She never did answer my question.

  She did, however, start in on a blue streak

  that lasted until she pulled into the driveway.

  So I pieced together the information.

  Dad’d been going out for drinks a lot lately.

  Danny worked at a straight-friendly bar,

  which was probably a nice way to say gay bar.

  Dad said he and Danny were friends.

  And that pissed Mom off.

  Now Mom was swearing about

  how long she had been married to Dad,

  as if today was the last day

  she’d consider herself his wife.

  “Is Dad gay?” I wondered out loud, hoping

  my problem-solving skills weren’t very good

  and that I’d missed the mark by a thousand miles.

  But Mom nodded yes.

  An Explanation

  My mother

  took two weeks off

  back in June.

  I asked her

  (in July)

  what we were doing.

  I think she meant to say, “Vacationing”

  but she said, “Running away.”

  Which might have been okay,

  even though I thought that

  if I ever ran away,

  I’d do it with

  a certain emo-sensitive rocker boy

  and not my mother.

  Lonely

  The worst part of

  this overextended summer vacation

  is leaving

  behind

  a perfectly good boyfriend

  with the deepest

  espresso-brown eyes

  a girl

  could ever

  get lost

  in.

  Since the Breakup

  my mother

  has transported herself

  to another world.

  On her planet

  showers,

  waking up before sunset,

  matching her clothes,

  and leaving the house

  are optional.

  Meanwhile

  typing furiously,

  crying constantly,

  and pitting coffee against sleeping pills

  for a battle over her body

  are commonplace.

  Sometimes

  I think she needs

  those antidepressants

  we see in TV commercials.

  But every time an ad comes on

  she changes the channel.

  So she needs me

  making her toast,

  washing her clothes,

  buying her groceries,

  and bringing her Kleenex.

  Saturday at the Laundromat


  My mother sleeps late

  almost every day

  because being asleep

  is better than

  being depressed.

  On Saturday she forgets

  that the fridge is empty,

  our clothes are dirty,

  and the towels smell

  from too many dips in the bay.

  So I pilfer change

  from the cup holder of Dad’s car

  (which Mom drove here to make him mad)

  and walk three miles into town

  with a pillowcase of laundry

  over one shoulder.

  Filling a washer

  with my clothes, the towels,

  and a few of Mom’s underthings,

  I line up eight quarters

  and slide them in all at once.

  I sit outside the Laundromat

  and watch the college students

  walk by in UNH T-shirts,

  miniskirts made from jeans,

  and form-fitting sweats

  with wildcats printed on the ass.

  They seem dislocated—

  as if they hope

  that a large cappuccino,

  ten pounds of art history books,

  Jane Eyre, and Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon

  will help them find their way.

  And looking at them,

  I understand how they feel.

  Lost.

  Every Time Dad Calls and Mom Answers

  she tells him that she doesn’t want to talk

  but she doesn’t hang up.

  She asks him: How? Why? When?

  As I listen in on the other phone,

  he tries to explain

  that he felt alone

  in their marriage—

  that they hadn’t been

  close in a long time.

  Mom informs him

  that he is a husband

  and a father

  and that maybe he should

  think about the people in his life

  a little more.

  He says

  he wants to

  see his daughter

  and maybe she could think

  about driving his Mustang back to Boise

  sometime soon.

  My mother goes ballistic

  shouting swearing crying

  until the mechanical voice

  informs us,

  “If you’d like to make a call,

  please hang up and dial again.”