A POEM by CATHEY AMBUSH
Ways to Say No
I could say the shower curtain rod nearly killed me and I need a night to recover or I could blame the two suitcases that fell off the closet shelf and used my skull as a trampoline or I could say I’m mourning my AirPods that I accidentally ran through the washer and now I have to plan a memorial service or I could invoke the Geneva Conventions regarding the removal of pajamas because getting dressed again would be a crime against humanity or I could explain that my phone charger only works at one angle like 29 degrees and I need to sit here holding it because I’m at 3% or I could say I opened a bag of flour too hard and now my kitchen looks like a cocaine lab or I could explain I sit too close to the steering wheel because I’m short and I’m afraid the airbag will plow my sunglasses into my brain and kill me on the way to your house or I could tell the truth which is that I already took off my bra and the thought of putting it back on makes me want to fake my own death or I could say what I always say which is sorry I’m busy even though we both know I’m lying but this is what we do we pretend my excuses are real and your invitation was sincere when really you’re relieved I said no because you didn’t want me there anyway you just wanted to be nice and fulfill some social obligation like I’m a box on your friendship checklist and that’s okay because I don’t even have a checklist I just want to stay home where no one asks me how I’m doing and I don’t have to stand on tiptoes to see myself in your bathroom mirror and I can sit in my 68-degree house wrapped in a blanket watching the ceiling fan spin and seeing faces in the popcorn texture and eating snacks that I’ll happy-dance to and arranging them on my plate however I want and fidgeting as much as I need to and cursing out loud to no one and knowing I’m safe here in my controlled chaos where nothing is expected of me except to exist and even that feels like too much sometimes.
Cathey Ambush (she/her) is an Indigenous Peruvian-American writer and photographer in San Antonio, TX, fueled by weird playlists, the never-ending "why?" and late-night snacks. She writes about complicated identities and relationships she doesn't understand. Her work has appeared in HuffPost and Matador Network. She's drawn to forgotten histories, resistance in any form, and conversations that don't require small talk.