Freestyle always says these little bits of wisdom. I write them down in my journal, and sometimes I draw them out in coloured bubble letters and tape them on the wall around my bed. That saying is my favourite. I stare at it while lying in bed trying to fall asleep, which sometimes takes hours. Get out of the boat, Melissa. Get out of the boat. I know the saying actually has something to do with Jesus, but when I’m drifting off to sleep I imagine myself lying down in this Lady of Shalott wooden rowboat. I imagine I’m wearing a puffy white dress, with those lace-trimmed long-underwear pantaloons underneath. My hair is long and is tied back with purple satin ribbons. Above me is blue sky. I stretch a foot out over the edge of the bed and imagine it dangling over the water. The boat rocks. There’s hesitation. I look over the edge. Black depths. A deep breath. And I think to myself, Get out of the boat. Get out of the boat.
That’s my other favourite saying. Well, it’s not a saying at all, it’s a poem. I don’t know exactly what “The Lady of Shalott” is supposed to be about. We read it in English class. Ms. Switzer said a poem can mean anything you want it to mean, as long as it makes sense to you.
Basically, the Lady of Shalott is a woman who has some kind of spell cast upon her that dooms her to the task of weaving all day. She lives in a tower on this tiny island and is separated from the rest of life by a river. On the other side of the river is a road that leads to Camelot, where all the rich and free people get to go and enjoy their lives. For some reason, the curse prevents her from looking directly outside, so she must use a mirror to reflect the happenings on the road. That’s how detached from life she is. She watches wedding and funeral processions pass by and she’s sad about it because she can’t join them, but she goes on with her weaving because that’s what her life is. But then one day she sees two newlyweds making out on the riverbank and she feels terribly lonely. A while later Prince Lancelot comes along and skinny-dips his hot bod in the river right in front of her tower. She’s so amazed by him, she takes her eyes off the mirror and looks directly at him. She instantly falls in love, but she’s miserable because she knows she will never have him, or that life. So she stops weaving. She finds a boat. Writes her name on it. Gets in the boat and dies of a broken heart, leaving her body to drift into Camelot.
I know that’s only my interpretation. I know there’s stuff about the river cracking and reflections and historical things, but this is what it is to me.
The most tragic part comes at the end, when a crowd gathers around this woman lying dead in the boat, and Lancelot makes his way through the crowd and says, “She has a lovely face. God in his mercy lent her grace.” And it’s like, given another life, he would have fallen in love with her. Given another life, they could have been together.
Oh God … my heart melts at that point. And when I really think about it, when I read the poem, I can’t help but feel really sad. I completely understand how she feels, watching life and people pass by on a road she will never join. I saw it when Crystal took me to a fancy sports club for lunch one time. Or at McDonald’s on a Sunday night, when nice little families pack the tables. The life I can never reach is all around me. But to fall in love with someone on that road? That’s the tragedy. To fall in love with someone you can never have. Is there any greater pain? The Lady could bear anything else—loneliness, boredom, isolation. But unrequited love? Any other loss wouldn’t be worth dying for.
Nineteen
The thing about these special school day programs is that they stick a bunch of messed-up teenagers together and think somehow this will help us get better. Imagine a room full of druggy, angry teenagers. We just all feed off each other’s stresses, and the only good that comes of it is that some of us end up