jhaiwrites

[jhaiwrites]

And every woman ever, rolled her eyes.

—IX

[jhaiwrites]

Dinner Table

Dad, please. I’m not trying to fight you, okay? I’m trying to have a conversation.

I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I’m not trying to corner y—

What? …I can’t control how you react, Or how you feel. If the words I’ve used are offensive or make you feel uncomfortable, I can swi—

No, I didn’t say that. No! That’s not what I meant at all. I’m trying to understand—

Dad… I can’t have this conversation If you keep fighting me. No, this isn’t an argument. …again, I can’t control that.

Please don’t say those things. That’s not fair.

But th— No, I — Wh—

No. No more. I did my best.

Goodnight, Dad. No. Goodnight. —J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

I have a great father. I grew up without a dad.

My mother is perfect. I never knew my mom.

—J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

To Jenny,

It’s been a long time since seventeen, hasn’t it? Since each other’s first kiss in the stairwell of the geography wing.

I’ll be honest. I still find it hard to think about you. About the things that we had. The mistakes that I made.

I’m afraid of the pain. Of the shame that still rules me — that clouds every thought of you.

I was so afraid, pushed you down so far, I don’t remember much about the cause of the pain or shame.

But what scares me more is that I pushed you down so hard, I don’t remember much about you at all.

All you are now are flashes. Painful glances. Never for more than a millisecond. Always squinted at, batted away, followed by frantic scrubbing at any residue of you still stuck to my memories.

I’m sorry. You deserve better than that.

But.

There’s one bit of you that never left me. One clear, immutable part of you that has yet to — and likely won’t for a long time — fade in any clarity.

You gave me my favorite song.

I remember you and I exchanging music tastes slowly over time. I kept trying to impress you, pretending to like music I didn’t, or paradoxically being too harsh on your music taste.

I think it was when we were sitting in my brother’s car outside your house. I felt a little nervous — your mom’s disapproval of her little girl spending time with a boy causing me to look at the windows for someone peeking through the shades.

You told me that you were gonna play a special song. “Les Jupes” by Charlotte Cardin. One you were pretty sure I’d never heard before — considering what you knew of my existing taste. You said it moved your soul.

I admit, I remember being a bit distracted as you told me this. Mind wandering a little after the end of a long day out together — looking outside, or lost in my head as you queued it up on my phone and hit play.

And then I felt my soul start to move too.

I remember being instantly brought back to reality — immediately in love with sounds so spectacular yet so outside of anything I usually enjoyed listening to.

I remember playing that song non-stop for a week. I remember playing it every time I picked you up from your dorm after we went to university.

And after it was over, after I ran, it stayed with me to this day.

I was frustrated at it for a while, finger hovering over the skip button as I winced from the tiny part of your memory that still lingered on it every time it played.

But it changed my life.

Through it, a window opened into a world of genres and artists that I previously either dismissed or never thought to try. Genres and artists that have come to define what music means to me.

The rest of Charlotte Cardin. The 1975. Lorde. Rina Sawayama. Lovelytheband. Taylor Swift. Lana Del Rey. Bleachers. Conan Grey. Doja Cat. The Weeknd.

It led to concerts. To adventures. To friends that I’d die for. To a new way of self expression. To a whole new part of my life that I never imagined I’d grow into.

And every time I listen to it — to a song I can’t stop coming back to eight years on, a little bit of you flickers through my mind.

I’m still at the beginning of my journey to heal — to learn how overcome the pain and trauma that caused this to fall apart in the first place. I’m trying to build the skills to revisit the memory of you with the clarity and fairness you deserve.

But I want you to know that no matter what, you still live in a little corner of my heart.

Because you gave me my favorite song.

[jhaiwrites]

Why the fuck Would you only steal one shoe?

Now I only got one, You only got one.

Now there's two shoeless morons Walking down the street. Squeak slap squeak slap squeak slap

—J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

adulthood (noun)

Dirty dishes No caffeine after 1 Student debt Why can’t I cry? Dark ceilings Hey look butter’s on sale 2 friends Now 1 but overseas …who won’t take my calls Oh that wine was delightful House prices That stunned silence after a really good book SNRIs LOTR marathons More hair in the shower drain I don’t remember these pants being so tight The pride of a job well done Sad smiles Bad news The indescribable joy of the first snow The call of the void 2 hour commutes I’m trying so, so hard Cable knit sweaters Maybe I should go back to school Boss, can I have the week off? Dad’s not looking so good Your call is important to us Back pain Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired. Me? Guess I haven’t met the right one yet. Spoiling nephews and nieces Didn’t Interstellar just come out? Marriages Funerals Not thinking about their changing ratio Finally looking good with a beard Wondering what could’ve been Waiting for something, but not knowing what Getting back up And doing it all over again

—J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

Sidewalk, 9pm

At first I didn't notice you, Unknown woman in the distance. Too far for features, Just close enough for shape.

I see you glance over your shoulder. I see you freeze.

You step off the curb, Hurried footsteps softened to appear calm. Maybe if I stare at the pavement harder, You'll believe you haven't been seen.

I hear your steps quicken, Away from my danger. As real to you, As it is unthinkable to me.

I get it. I really do. It's nothing personal, I know. The stories of strange men at night, Just as horrifying as they sound. Far too common to be discounted.

You have a right to be safe. From an unknown. If I saw a hyena on my trail, I'd walk a bit faster too.

But it still stings, Knowing what you think of me. What conclusions you draw, The relief you feel, From every corner between us.

So I'll walk a little slower, Turn a corner earlier. Sit down at a bus stop, Wait for you to pass. Then maybe one of us won't fear, That a predator walks the streets.

—J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

We certainly know much, Of what her "no" took from Gatsby.

Do you think he ever wondered, What that "no" took from her?

—IX

[jhaiwrites]

Mayfly

Stupid nasty shitty, Dumb stupid awful. Why can't you load faster?

Terrible shitty useless, Stupid stupid stupid. What elevator goes this slow?

Dumb horrible stupid idiotic, Shitty awful vile. Why can't I cry anymore?

Lousy stupid moronic, Horrid ass shitty stupid dumb. Why won't you make me happy?

Awful nasty atrocious, Pathetic lousy shitty bad. Is this all I have?

—IX

[jhaiwrites]

I wish romance was a real mechanic.

Not just in the lore.

What an incredible concept.

—IX

[jhaiwrites]

My heart is not for sale.

My time is, though. In dollars per hour.

My hands are too. In moved furniture and free pizza.

My eyes, My voice, My smile, My teeth. All for the low, low price of a life.

But my heart? That one's for me. Just me.

And maybe you too.

—J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

Vienna

I met her on Saturday, under the trees at the Turn 10 hairpin. General admission was packed, and we were packed in like sardines. She asked for some sunscreen, and I gave her my heart instead.

The easiest part to describe is her beauty. Eyes of gold speckled green. A smile that could charm even the crankiest old man. An accent from far away. Playful in a way that you cant help but feel more relaxed by. Freckles that shimmered in the sun, that danced when she laughed.

But then you saw her richness. Wit deeper than an ocean. A sense of humor — blunt but smart. Deadpan but wry. The inner world she showed in the words she used and the stories she told, spoke only of further depths within her. Her little habits — the way she blew raspberries at the bees as they got close to her, the way the rhythm she’d tap on her knee gained tempo when she got excited — all were worn on her sleeve. Unapologetically. A woman saying wordlessly, “I’m here. All of me.”

Then her strength. A penchant for asking for ridiculous things and still getting them. And more. Bravery that shouldn’t be able to fit in a 5’0” frame. She pulled herself across the Atlantic, living off spit and smiles. Fought for General Admission seats with the rest of us poors like a heavyweight boxer. And somehow, she ended up being so much more. Tattoos of the soul of her mother. Of her brother. Another on her back that says “slow down, you’re doing fine.” From her favourite song. Intrusive thoughts of mostly harmless kleptomania. Mostly. Senses that picked out details you didn’t notice were there. A simmering intelligence hidden just behind those crystal eyes, knowing that she had you fooled with her bubblegum demeanour. A mind looking forward. On the horizon. Pushing herself. Sometimes harder than she should. Only gave shrugs and an “I’ll figure it out” when asked about plans. And I believed her.

Rarely, there were vulnerable moments. How she grew small and stiff in the full-to-bursting subway train as we tried to leave Circuit Gilles Villeneuve with the rest of the 100000 on the island at once. How she’d dart her eyes around nervously at the press of bodies — most a full foot taller than her — and mumble something about hating crowds. Never before have I been more proud of pressing into 3 sweaty strangers with my back — because I managed to give her a few more centimeters to breathe. She could burn too. She could be cruel — not often and not intensely — but she could nonetheless pull out her smarts and charm as claws. Her warm wit could become icy cunning. But mostly, she *shone*. A star that pushed outward — naturally, reflexively. My jaw dropped at how easily she stepped and leaped and pushed — how easily she *lived.* It scared me. Actions that would have had me dry heaving in a bucket, she pulled off as easily as she breathed. She sniffed every flower. Took pictures with strangers with weird hair. Snuck signage from the race into her backpack as a souvenir, batting eyelashes at the marshals, seeing that they ripped my scavenged sign out of my hands as I tried to bumble past with one. Threw her phone through a chain link fence so a worker could get pictures of her favourite team’s car for her. But she’s not mine. Not interested. Not even remotely. She might not even be interested in men. She certainly seemed more into Shannon, anyway. She didn’t get my jokes. Token laughs. Token responses. I could see her eyes glaze over as she nodded politely to me explaining my interests. She stiffened at my compliments, gave me weak smiles at my attempts to charm. I got the sense that I glanced at her more often than she was comfortable with. I began to take a lot more interest in the grass near my shoes after that. I asked if I could walk her home. I think I took the no graciously. I didn’t sob, or beg, or ask to run away together, or do any of the other million things my mind was screaming me to try. I wished her well, wished her luck on the interview she had the next day. She gave me a tiny wave and half a glance before disappearing into the crowd. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again. . . . Slow down, you crazy child. You’re so ambitious for a juvenile. But then if you’re so smart, Then why are you still so afraid? Where’s the fire? What’s the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out. You got so much to do, And only so many hours in a day. But you know that When the truth is told, That you can get what you want Or you can just get old. You’re gonna kick off, Before you even get halfway through. When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

—J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

Oh, come on.

You know what I mean.

Yes, you do.

Are you going to make me show you again?

—J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

Whoever said, "Your body is a temple", Grew up where steeples shone.

Come to my holy places. See what God left me. Left us.

—J. Hai

[jhaiwrites]

$8.80 short

Hi sir, what can I get for you?

By my age, they’d had my brother. A house. A second hand firebird for dad, A new station wagon for mom. I have three roommates. And a cat.

Yes ma’am, we have oat, almond or soy.

Student loans. Rent. Groceries. Medication. Is payday this Friday or next? It’s gonna be tight.

Sir, please calm down.

3.8 GPA, Dean’s list. Three years straight. They were so proud, Watching me in my grad caps. BSc. MSc. I wonder what they think now.

I’m sorry ma’am, it’s store policy.

Maybe I should get a PhD. Maybe I should move back home. Maybe I should run away. Maybe I should throw a few pipe bombs. I don’t look at my razors anymore.

Yes sir. I’m sorry sir.

I need to scream. I need to run. Blood in my ears. Animal. Raw, red, and searing. I have to escape. I need to go. I need to go. I need…

Hi sir, what can I get for you today?

—IX

———

Context: $8.80 is the difference between the Ontario minimum hourly wage and the living hourly wage in the Greater Toronto Area.

[jhaiwrites]

With shaking hands, She pushes down.

Needle. in her skin.

She gasps.

—IX

[jhaiwrites]

To whom it may concern,

I tried making pancakes this morning. Emphasis on tried. In my defence, the pan was staring daggers at me. I don't trust shifty cookware.

I walked to work. Crazy, right? It didn't take half as long as I'd thought it would. And I got to see the neighbourhood cardinal gather some twigs.

They all saw through it though, The dazzling smile. Turns out whitening only goes so far.

But my tone was warm. My ears were listening. Really listening this time! I swear!

Still, it was a good day. Ms. Jones seemed to notice something. "You’ve got a different sparkle today, sweetie", she said. Dan just asked if I got laid. I laughed, and it only felt a little contrived.

You see? I'm better. Or at least I'm trying to get better. Trying really, really hard.

Will you come home now?

—J. Hai