Student of the Month July 2014 Featuring: Jessica Ciufo
University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa
Copyright © 2014 by the Board of Publications, University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa If you are a student and would like to feature your work in Student of the Month or an instructor for a creative writing course and would like to submit exemplary University of Hawai‘i student work to Hawai‘i Review’s Student of the Month, please send submissions to our Submittable account at bit.ly/submit2HR Contact us at hawaiireview@gmail.com
A Note on the Series:
Our Student of the Month web series features stellar student writing and visual art from the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa, the institution where our roots dig deep. In print for more than 40 years, our journal has been an established voice in the Pacific and beyond for decades, featuring work from emerging writers alongside literary heavyweights. The Student of the Month series is our latest effort to expand Hawai‘i Review’s reach in local and far-reaching literary communities. For this installment of the Student of the Month series, we are thrilled to feature the following UHM fiction writer: Jessica Ciufo, who has never published with us before. Our Fiction Editor, Dave Scrivner, recommended Jessica for the series because of her risktaking and her willigness to explore the consciousness of a character very different from herself. He writes: I came across Jessica’s story while I was filling in for a creative writing professor who was not able to make his workshop. When I read Jessica’s piece, I was immediately impressed by the ambition of trying to capture a totally different voice and consciousness. It’s a tough feat for even the most seasoned writers, and I think Jessica does a great job in this short piece. Fiction allows both writers and readers to inhabit the bodies and minds of disparate characters real or imagined, exercising our capacities for empathy and understanding. The title of this piece, “Color Me In,” reminds us of this challenge posed by realistic fiction writing and asks us to take an active approach to seeing each other in all our human complexity. We hope you enjoy this short story as much as we do. Read and share it thoughtfully. —The Editors
Jessica Ciufo graduated from Mililani High School. She currently lives in Honolulu and attends the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa, where she is majoring in English with a concentration in Creative Writing. In fulfillment of her undergraduate thesis, Jessica has been working on a novel entitled Color Me In. She has received the University of Hawai‘i’s Meryl Clark Award for Fiction. This is her first publication.
Color Me In I’d been hiking up and down the rolling streets of Seattle for 2 hours. My coat buttoned up against the cold. It was a black trench my sister shipped to me last Christmas. When my girl Stacy found it tucked away in the back of the closet, she made it her mission to make me wear it. In the mornings I’d find it draped over a dinning room chair or lying on the back of the couch. Once, she even tried to wrap me in it on my way out the door, saying it’d keep me warm. OK, it was a coat after all; of course it would keep me warm. But what really got me was that she cared so much. I wasn’t close with my family, especially my little sister, and she wanted to bridge that gap. I wanted to make her happy, so I wore the damn coat. Of course, I quickly found out that it also helped me blend in. Thanks to the ugly thing, I looked like any other guy running morning errands. Stacy thought I was heading to work every day. Just a few weeks ago that was the case. Looking back, I can still see the home lunches she’d pack me. Right after we moved in together she stocked our pantry with juice boxes and Hostess cupcakes. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the guys and I would rather walk to a restaurant or order in. So, I’d kiss her on the cheek and take my packed lunch to work. Every time I opened up my brown paper bag and picked out all the contents: chips, sandwich, desert, I couldn’t stop the smile that would spread on my face. I also didn’t mind the fact that my buddies noticed. “Michael, your Mama pack you lunch again?” Trey, a co-worker and friend would announce to the office. He made this his running joke, but I saw right through him. The guy never had a serious relationship; he couldn’t fathom what he was missing out on. “Yeah, man.” I answered through a mouth full of food. “It’s delicious. I’d offer you a bite, but I don’t want to catch your herpes.” “It’s wasn’t herpes. It was a cold sore!” “Yeah, sure.” I laughed into my sandwich. Taking another bite, I washed it down with a cold swig of Caprisun Fruit Punch. Trey swung his hand through the air and made a few whipping sounds. “What’s happened to you Mike? Ever since you met this girl you’ve been losing testosterone.” I looked down my body and back up at him. I had no idea what this guy was taking about. I was all there; nothing was different about me that I could see. I gave him a “What the Fuck?” expression. “You’ve been wearing that Burberry trench... Only boy models wear Burberry trenches. You look like a fruit.” I reached behind my chair and pulled at the sleeve of my ugly coat. “Hey, my sister bought me this.” He held his hands up, “Sorry man, I call it like I see it.” “Whatever. All this makes my girl happy. And one day maybe you’ll know what
that feels like.” I swung my imaginary whip through the air. “And that sound? It’s gonna follow you everywhere.” Trey laughed that off, as he walked out the office in search of food. But fate caught up with him. He found a girl who made him the most unique home cooked lunches I’d ever seen. Sent him to work with rice balls and weird looking stuff. I couldn’t describe it if I tried, but it was colorful and it smelled. As soon as Trey opened the containers, the aroma hovered in the office for hours. And like a faithful friend, I was there with my whipping sound effects. Soon the office digressed into an elementary school lunch hour. Guys started bringing in meals and some of the female workers cooked up their own creations. There were some back street dealings, folks swapping goods, but I could never trade up my girl’s sandwiches or juice boxes. To every man his own, love just does that to you. It has a way of making the little things sources of unreal happiness. I smiled at the memories in my head. Although my workdays were normal just a few weeks ago, it could have been a different lifetime. So much had changed since those simple lunch hours. After the Crash, people were cut left and right. It was a “first one in, last one out” kind of deal and I was kicked to the curb. It wasn’t surprising, but it hurt like shit. And with that my whole world unraveled. All this took place just a few months after selling my old place for peanuts, finding an apartment I couldn’t afford, and convincing Stacy to move in with me. With a ton of promises weighing on my shoulders, I had no idea how to keep my head above water. ~~~ I found myself at the Waterfront Park off Alaska Way. I walked on the wooden planks and leaned against the metal railing. I breathed in a cold hit of air and pulled it down my lungs. Looking out at the ocean motorboats flew by in the distance and Bridge Island sat across the way. I remembered golfing with my father there at the Wing Point Golf Course. I was just a boy back then; I think I just hauled his clubs around like a caddy, but I enjoyed watching my dad work. He didn’t golf for fun, but business. He liked to show me off to his buddies and get me dates with their daughters. Talked with pride about how he’d groomed me for the business and how one day I’d take over. Of course none of that ever happened. He died a few years after that. The company sold off to pay his debts. It was just as well. I loved my Dad, but I could never be him. I had to be my own man. My eyes dropped back to the blue green water. Just below the pier the ocean swirled and slapped along the wooden columns holding the structure up. It was our claim on nature. Man could alter the landscape, change the environment, and bend it all to his will. Nothing could stand in his way except for himself. But was it right? Weren’t there consequences to all that power? I was stuck in that debate. Could I do something I knew was wrong, for my own gain? Looking down into the water, I spied the floating heads of jellyfish. The clear and opaque ghosts seemed motionless, suspended in the water, their stingers invisible. Deeper below, there were orange and pink starfish lying still on the ocean floor. I wanted to dive
down and pick out a few. I’d bag them and give them to Stacy just to make her smile. God, I loved her smile. Sometimes, I had no idea why she was with me and why the hell she agreed we move in together. But regardless, I didn’t want her to change her mind. At that point I was keeping so much from her, but we were happier and closer then we’d ever been. And I’d do anything to keep it that way. Her life was good before she met me. I was afraid that things would get tough and she’d bolt. She had everything she could ever want. She was a carefree college student with friends and a life. And I knew it was only a matter of time before she grew tired of me. She’d meet a guy on campus, maybe someone from the dorm or class. She’d ask herself ‘why stick with Mike, a guy out of college with a 9 to 5? My life could be easier, more fun.’ The thought drove me insane. She was it for me. I knew it the moment I saw her in that crowded college party talking with her hands and laughing with her head thrown back. Once I talked to her, touched her, made her a part of my life, I was finished. She effortlessly blended with me, filling in the holes I didn’t even know were there. Moving in was the next step, but I had to up my game. My humble studio apartment was barely bigger then her college dorm room. I couldn’t stand the thought of her having to compromise or give up her stuff. I could care less about my things; I’d pack it all up in trash bags and ditch it in a metal can if it’d make her happy. And her mother, that lady was another hurdle. I never met the woman, and never wanted to. She was worse then my entire family put together. She was overbearing, paranoid, and nosey. Told Stacy right off the bat that she shouldn’t give me the time of day. She was convinced I was a psychotic rapist, terrorist, or drug dealer. She was off the mark. I’m sane and have never hurt a woman in my life. I have no intentions of strapping a bomb to my chest. Now drugs, well, that requires a more complicated explanation. At the office everyone took something from time to time; it was part of the job and honestly part of the fun. We didn’t become criminals. Neither did we cheat or steal. If anything it allowed us to work hard and helped us to relax. My father took stuff from time to time. My mother popped prescriptions for aches and pains. Half the student body at St. Anselm’s pushed “dexies” and so did a group of my buddies at U-dub. Sure, people went off the deep end. I didn’t know them personally or by name. They were phantoms of the news channels, ghosts from the ‘war on drugs’ meant to scare and intimidate the masses. Those goons were robbers and kidnappers, launderers and manipulators. I couldn’t see myself turning into that. I had power over the direction of my life. I didn’t want that, so it wouldn’t be my reality. ~~~ Out on the gloomy pier the sky shifted. The clouds moved and a sliver of light peeked through. The warmth hit my face and soaked into my skin. The smell of sunlight, if there could be a smell, was optimistic. Like a good omen, it fueled my resolve. I could do anything I put my mind too. I wasn’t afraid to take risks. I heard Trey approach before he spoke. My body relaxed. It was good to see a friend again, even if it was in undesirable circumstances.
“Hey, man.” Trey’s voice came from behind me. I didn’t turn around or acknowledge him. We were playing the stranger act. To a person sitting far away, we were two passersby joined in a brief conversation. He stopped a few feet away from me and leaned against the metal railing. “How’d it go?” “Like clockwork.” I said into my chest and looked out again at the ocean. The sun moved again behind the clouds, and the sky changed back into a gloomy blue. Most days in Seattle were like this. Sometimes though I wished for sun. “Here’s the stuff.” Trey took out a brown bundle from under his coat and held it against his stomach. I spied it from the corner of my eye and walked past him to make the exchange. I quickly took the package and slid it into my coat, not pausing in my stride but continuing on. When I made my way off the pier my phone buzzed. It was an incoming text message. I didn’t bother checking it. Trey always sent the same parting note after we met for a drop-off. It was a quote from 300, his favorite movie. I could imagine his chuckle; luckily I wasn’t close enough to hear it. Come back with your shield or on it I shook my head. This guy really had a bad sense of humor. I wasn’t doing anything remotely life threatening. It was just another day in the “office.” Only now instead of pushing papers and computer keys, I was pushing drugs. I wasn’t proud of it, but I chose it. I needed the money and it was too easy to pass up. At the time, it was all temporary. Trey and I were both using the money to keep our lives afloat. I wasn’t losing my place or my girl. Everything would stay the same and once the economy leveled out, I’d find a new job. No one would ever know about it and life would go on. ~~~ I saw a flash of orange. The rain was coming down. I had just wrapped up the deal and pushed the merchandise to the next contact. This was my job now, in rain or shine. I lost my position at the office a few weeks ago and Trey had set me up in a new line of income. It wasn’t ideal, but it paid just as good. Sometimes it even paid better. Trey was a good guy. He didn’t want to “help” me, but I knew the stuff he was into. I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I figured that if you’re going to go in on the wrong side of the law, you might as well stick to the smart side. The raindrops tapped loudly on my head and slid down my face. If I tilted my chin up I could drink it. I heard a few metal dumpsters move in the alley, as if something were burrowing behind them. My curiosity got the better of me. I walked deeper into the murky corner. It smelled like trash and I resisted the urge to bring my sleeve to my nose. This had to be quick. I was getting drenched. I used the toe of my boot and pushed an empty cardboard box to the side. Behind it, on the blackened ground was a wet mound of fur. I bent lower to take a closer look and the mass moved. The thing stared up at me with a look of horror on its face and scrammed in the opposite direction. Luckily the alley was a dead end and the only way out was behind me.
I had two options. Turn around and leave or do something else… I took a moment to consider why the hell was I standing in the rain, thinking about chasing a dirty animal? Stacy. She was probably waiting up for me at the apartment, one of her dinners boiling or steaming away at the stove. I thought of her smile then. I got one of those everyday now, and it was amazing. Could I make it bigger? Could I make her happier? I wondered what she would do if I brought home a kitten? I positioned myself at the mouth of the alley and angled my body so my back was to the street. I was going to catch this thing and bring it home for my girl. She’d love it. Girls loved baby anything’s. I bent down and angled my body like a goalie. Taking a few steps forward, I quietly picked away bundles of trash and set them to the side, building a wall behind me to prevent the thing from getting past. Soggy cardboard boxes slipped through my fingers, falling heavily to the puddle filled ground. Eventually, I made out a skinny tail in the corner. It was drenched and boney looking; it could have belonged to a rat rather then a cat. I figured the thing was probably as starving as it was wet. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a half eaten muffin. My contact liked to bake and I had to partake lest I offended her, again. So luckily I had it for the cat. Did cats eat muffins? I figured anything that skinny wouldn’t be too picky. I made a come hither noise. That got its attention. The tail swooped away and a little face came out again. The face was smeared with dirt and dripping with water. I crouch on the ground and broke off a piece of the muffin and held it out with my hand. It didn’t move, so I stepped closer. “Come here, it’s OK,” I cooed gently. At least, I tried to coo. I wasn’t a fan of babies or animals, but I figured the voice would get my intentions across. When that didn’t seem to work, I tried another tactic. I threw the small piece and watched as it sailed through the air. It landed with a thud on the cat’s forehead. It retreated back into its hiding place. “Dammit.” I shoved the muffin back into my pocket and knew it was time to man up. I’d probably get my ass kicked by a cat, but at least I wouldn’t show fear or hesitation. I got down on the ground on all fours, took a breath in, and quickly shoved my hand into the hole it had borrowed in. Immediately, I felt little teeth and nails clench to my palm. I couldn’t stop the laugh of relief that sprung from my mouth. The noise echoed in the alley and mingled with the sound of rain. It couldn’t hurt me if it wanted too. It was too small, weak, and helpless. I pulled the weightless mass out and brought if under my coat. It latched on to my T-shirt. I looked down and those same horrified eyes looked back up at me. I snickered again and closed my coat with my free hand. As I walked home holding my prize, a warm feeling came over me. It wasn’t from the cat’s little body pressed up on my chest. It was something else. It came from inside me. This little cat was ours now. It was a new addition to our family. It made us a family. Those realizations settled in me with a wave of peace. No matter what would happen
between Stacy and I, we finally had something solid and real. Nothing could shake our life together, not the secrets or half-truths. I didn’t know how long I could keep it up. I had too though. I had to fight. For us I’d always fight.
www.hawaiireview.org Hawai‘i Review Staff, 2013-2014 Anjoli Roy, Editor in Chief Kelsey Amos, Managing Editor Donovan Kūhiō Colleps, Design Editor No‘ukahau‘oli Revilla, Poetry Editor David Scrivner, Fiction Editor
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