Old Wounds

by N. K. Smith

  I didn’t think I agreed with her. I knew from experience that some people were nothing more than pure evil, but maybe it wasn’t right for me to have such extreme thoughts. If I took Sophie, for example, I thought she was nothing but goodness, but to hear other people talk, one would decide that she wasn’t.

  Since we were asking questions, I had some I needed answered. I wanted to know if she’d ever think about giving up drugs. I wanted to ask her why she did all the things she did. If she truly was the person she was with me, why did she have the impulses that drove her to do drugs and have so much sex?

  It bothered me that I didn’t know these things about her. It bothered me that even she might not know these things about herself.

  She shivered, and I asked, “A-a-are you c-cold? W-w-we c-can ggggo, if you w-want.”

  She studied me like Stephen always did, and then shook her head. “I’m good. What’s your middle name?”

  For a moment, I wondered why she would want to know my middle name or anything that I liked, but I supposed that friends knew those things about each other. Perhaps she was just being nice and asking so that I felt like we truly were friends. Or maybe, she was my friend like she said she was, and really did want to know.

  “A-Al-Alexander.”

  “Are you named after somebody?” When I shrugged, she offered, “My middle name is Catherine, after my grandmother.”

  She was silent and then I realized that it was my turn to ask a question. There was so much I wanted to know about her, but I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask everything I wanted to know. I could ask her about Tampa, but we’d talked about it before. She missed the pot. We’d already talked about diabetes.

  I wanted to ask something deep and meaningful, but I settled for, “W-w-what’s y-your ffffavorite class?”

  “Photography,” she answered immediately. “You?”

  “H-H-HHHHHortic-culture.”

  She grimaced. “Yuck. Why?”

  “I-it’s in-interesting and I d-don’t hhhhave t-to t-talk.” I didn’t mention how I seemed to have adopted Kate’s love of plants or that now that I was sitting next to her, it was rapidly becoming the best part of my day.

  “What do you want to do after high school?”

  “C-college.” I didn’t tell her about the opportunity I had to leave high school a year early.

  “And after that?”

  “I w-w-wanted t-to be a doctor, lllliiiiike S-Stephen, b-but I c-c-c-can’t t-talk r-right, ssssso that w-wouldn’t in-inspire much c-c-c-confidence from the p-p-p-p…” I had to close my eyes to block out Sophie’s face as she waited for me to spit out such a simple word like “patients.” It wouldn’t come. My hands curled into fists and pressed against my body as they usually did when I tried to force out a word.

  I probably looked so ridiculous and I hated myself even more than usual. Our conversation had been going so well.

  Something warm and small slipped over my hands. My eyes popped open as my face relaxed. I looked down at my hands, which were now covered by hers, and then back up at her.

  “Just relax, Elliott.” She smiled at me. It was like a sedative. All the tension melted away at the sound of my name.

  “Patients.” Her eyes were drilling into mine and although it felt like I should’ve been nervous, I wasn’t. “Sssso I’ll p-probably j-just be ssomeone who w-works in a l-lab.”

  Sophie sighed, but her expression was unchanged. “You should be a doctor. Not all doctors have to talk all that much, right? Oh! You could be like Wallace and listen to people all day long and say nothing but ‘Hmmmm,’ and ‘I see.’”

  I could never be a therapist and there were other reasons why I’d never be a doctor. She was rubbing her thumbs lightly over my knuckles, drawing my attention back to my hands. When I glanced up, she was looking at me and nibbling her lip. It was just a fraction of a second later that she quickly moved her hands away.

  She was on her feet before I could even register my own sadness about no longer feeling her energizing, yet calming touch. I watched as she did a cartwheel and then back flip. She baffled me.

  When she was finished, she sat down again, but much farther away than before. “Pretty good, huh?”

  I nodded as I sat up.

  “Helen put me in gymnastics when I was little.” Her voice was sad and her eyes seemed distant and dark. “She told everyone that I was clumsy, but I was really good.” She paused. “She took me out of the class when everyone began to realize she was lying.”

  “W-w-why would she l-lie about y-y-you being c-c-clumsy?”

  Sophie didn’t answer; she just fiddled with something inside of her coat pocket. I thought about what she’d just told me and married it to what Robin and Stephen had alluded to. If a parent was mean to their child and left bruises and broken bones, it would make sense to stick the kid in a physical activity and blame all the marks on that.

  In that instant, I went from having no feelings at all about her mother, to hating the woman I didn’t even know.

  “I’m going to smoke.” She held up a little box. “Sure you don’t want to get high, Elliott?” Before I could answer, she shook her head and looked away, mumbling, “No, of course you don’t.”

  I had made the connection now. Sophie used drugs because her mother was mean to her. I understood her reluctance to come right out and say it, but I wanted her to. Maybe if she talked about it with someone like me, someone who would understand, she could stop doing all of these self-destructive things.

  Maybe if she did, I’d feel comfortable enough to tell her the quiet secrets that plagued me.

  We sat next to the stream for as long as the weather would let us. She was high, her eyes bloodshot and glassy, but she was no less of a good companion. When the sky finally did open up and drop rain on us, she didn’t get mad, like Rebecca would have, and she didn’t dance around in it like Jane; she simply looked up, wearing a soft smile that was just barely detectable.

  We were incredibly muddy by the time we got back to the car, but I had towels in the trunk, so very little of it got on the upholstery or carpet.

  Sophie hadn’t wanted to go home yet, so we drove around in the rain listening to music. We didn’t really talk much beyond my telling her what song was playing and her telling me if she liked it or not.

  When I finally did drop her off at her house, she asked for my e-mail address and if I had an instant messaging account. I gave her my e-mail, and told her that I could easily get an IM account. When I asked why she wanted my e-mail, she laughed and gave me a look. “So I can e-mail you, Elliott.”

  At home, I realized how brilliant she was. I could “talk” to her without stuttering. I quickly went to my computer and turned it on, excited to find I had an e-mail waiting for me that wasn’t from a Nigerian Prince or some online college. I opened the email from “YoSoph.”

  So thanks for the day. I loved that stream! And the leaves! And the flowers! And the…okay, I pretty much loved it all. I have questions for you. Send them back and then I’ll send you my answers. Don’t forget that Reese wants the name of the plant we’re going to grow on Monday. I vote for marigolds since no one can mess up growing marigolds.

  So here are the questions:

  1) Favorite food

  2) Favorite cartoon

  3) Favorite article of clothing

  4) What 4 things can you not live without?

  5) Absolute all-time favorite movie?

  Bonus: What are you listening to and why should I like it?

  It seemed completely wrong that I was this nervous to respond to a simple e-mail. I realized at this moment I was incredibly caught up in Sophie. It felt destined. It felt right to want to be close to her, but it was also new and strange. I didn’t have much faith that I could keep her interested.

  There was a part of m
e that desperately wanted her to be more than just my friend. David had friends, but they weren’t as important to him as Rebecca was. Jane depended on Trent in a way that she would never depend on anyone else. I wanted that. I wanted Sophie to be there for me when no one else would. I wanted Sophie to be the most important part of my life.

  As always, there was a dominate part of me that felt I would never be good enough for her to even be my friend, never mind my girlfriend. It wasn’t just her. I didn’t feel worthy of Stephen adopting me either. I didn’t feel worthy of Jane’s love, and I didn’t feel that I deserved the automatic respect that David gave me just for being his adopted sibling.

  There was a reason I didn’t have any friends. There was a reason no one at school beyond my siblings and their partners wanted anything to do with me. Unfortunately, that reason would probably keep Sophie from me too.

  As I re-read her questions, the importance of how I would answer them weighed on me. If we were starting up a correspondence through written word, I could answer completely, and not leave anything out the way I would have if we were speaking.

  Taking a deep breath, I began.

  Sophie,

  Thank you for a great day too. I thought you would like the little spot by the stream and I would be more than happy to take you there again when you have your camera.

  As for Reese’s project, we can do marigolds if you want, but I think those are too simple. We’d get a better grade if we did some kind of organic vegetable. I know it’s going into winter, but Stephen has a greenhouse and I’m pretty good with plants. It would be easy to do, maybe not as easy as marigolds, but worth it.

  I’ll answer your questions and send you some of my own.

  1) Favorite food: Stephen’s ex-wife, Kate, used to make some kind of curry dish with chicken, rice, potatoes, and onions. It wasn’t Indian curry though, it was Thai, and I have no idea how she made it. I haven’t had it in a really long time.

  2) Favorite cartoon: I don’t have one. I was never allowed to watch them when I was a kid, and I don’t watch much TV now. When I do, it isn’t cartoons.

  3) Favorite article of clothing: This is an odd question, but I suppose I have an affinity for my green button-down shirt. Rebecca bought it for David, but it was too small for him. I almost never wear it (it’s too nice for school), but I still like it.

  4) Four things I can’t live without: 1) My Gibson 2) My iPod 3) Coffee 4) Jane. I assume that food and water are provided, since no one can live without those things.

  5) Favorite movie: This is too hard. I can’t choose one. I might be able to give you one per genre if given enough time. Sorry. One movie I can watch over and over and over again without getting bored is Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, but I don’t know if it’s my all-time absolute favorite.

  Bonus: I’m listening to Matisyahu, Time of Your Song. You should like it for its pure style alone, but also because he’s a Hassidic Jew who blends rap and reggae into something unique and while he’s religious, his music is more spiritual than preachy. I’ll send you the link.

  Now my questions.

  1) What do you want to do for the rest of your life?

  2) Are you a cat person or a dog person?

  3) Do you believe in paranormal activity?

  4) Sunrise or Sunset?

  5) If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

  Bonus: What did you think of Matisyahu?

  Oh, and why “YoSoph?”

  I hope you have a nice Sunday. See you Monday.

  Elliott

  I had wanted to use my five questions to ask her all of the deeper things I wondered about. Like why she got high all the time, what she liked to do first thing in the morning, what she thought of the war, why she stole that car, what she thought of me, if she could ever imagine not getting high, and what made her want to be high all the time. Just like when we were in the woods, I stopped myself because all those questions might upset her.

  I didn’t want to upset her. I wanted her to smile like she had when she saw the flowers among all the leaves. If the rest of the weekend went south, I’d at least have that.

  She didn’t respond Saturday night, but I went to sleep excited about our new form of communication. I’d always hoped that I would be able to express myself better where Sophie was concerned, without having to fumble over every syllable, and now I would be able to.

  I woke up on Sunday with a terrible headache, but a few cups of coffee alleviated it. I tried not to feel anxious, and forced myself not to turn on the computer right away even though I desperately wanted to. Stephen was already at work, giving me the opportunity to drink more caffeine than I usually did. I knew it wasn’t a smart idea to drink so much coffee when I already had anxiety, but it gave me something to do other than constantly check my e-mail.

  I tried to have a conversation with Jane, but her questions about what I had done with Sophie yesterday made me nervous, on top of being anxious and jittery from the coffee. While I loved Jane in a way that I would never love anyone else, she could pressure me just as much as anyone when she wanted to. She understood without my ever having to explain things to her, but there were times when she’d be deliberately obtuse.

  This was one of those times.

  She didn’t even know Sophie, but ever since Robin announced that she and I would be paired up, Jane was going crazy with wild scenarios of Sophie and me going to Homecoming together, or the two of us being soul-mates. But she was ignoring the simple fact that apart from her, I wasn’t able to be close to anyone. She was ignoring how clearly dysfunctional I was.

  Jane wanted me to be healthy, in part because she loved me and wanted the best for me, but also, if I was healthy, it meant that she was too. We were both fairly messed up. She just hid her wounds better. Under her bubbly personality was someone deeply in pain. She hated to acknowledge it, just like we all did. She pierced her body for the same reason she cut herself. The pain helped her deal with the mess on the inside.

  Trent helped her feel normal and it seemed she felt that if I had someone like him, it would make her feel better. It would validate her if I shared the experience of being “healed” by another person. I didn’t think it worked like that though and I was pretty sure she was faking it most of the time.

  I didn’t listen as Jane chatted with herself. I thought about Sophie. She knew about my mother and she still liked me. She didn’t call me a freak, at least to my face, and wasn’t running in the other direction. Yesterday she’d even talked a little about her mother. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to read between the lines. It was a start.

  I hated Sophie’s mother.

  As much as I wanted to go back upstairs and power up my computer after my fifth cup of coffee, I couldn’t. I got roped into playing the Wii with Jane and David. He had come home after practice, still smelling like sweat and grass. Although I said no at first, Jane pouted me into playing, so I spent an hour and a half indulging her before nervously climbing the stairs to my room.

  Perhaps Sophie hadn’t written back. Maybe she came to her senses and decided I wasn’t worth all the time she devoted to me. Maybe she wrote back and let me know that all my questions were obtuse and she wouldn’t answer them.

  As I opened my door, I listened to my heart pound. Maybe five cups of coffee was a little too much in one sitting. I deliberately slowed my breathing and turned on my computer. A minute later I was reading an e-mail from her.

  Elliott,

  Organic veggies it is, but I have to warn you that despite my passing grade, I possess no green appendages, and that includes thumbs. They’re not even slightly green-tinted, but we’ll give it a try.

  Here are the answers to my questions:

  1. Favorite food – Brussels sprouts. I know, I know; who in their right mind loves Brussels sprouts, and the follow
up to that question is why would they admit to it?

  2. Favorite cartoon – I could watch Sponge Bob for hours. Patrick kills me.

  3. Favorite article of clothing - Vintage Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt, circa 1991

  4. What 4 things can you not live without?- RHCP t-shirt, one of any number of Classic novels, Brussels sprouts, and weed

  5. Absolute all-time favorite movie? – Hands down Sliding Doors. Alternate universes based on choices you make…completely intriguing.

  And now your questions:

  1) What do you want to do for the rest of your life?- Party like a rock star.

  2) Are you a cat person or a dog person? – Neither. I have enough to take care of.

  3) Do you believe in paranormal activity? – Like ghosts and stuff? Maybe, but I hope that there are no ghosts. When I die I don’t want to be hanging around watching stupid living people living stupidly.

  4) Sunrise or Sunset? – Sunset.

  5) If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? – I hate this question, Elliott. I’m never going anywhere, so why think about it? But if that’s a cop-out answer and you need an actual destination, I would pick Amsterdam for obvious reasons.

  Bonus: What did you think of Matisyahu? - I liked the song. Where do you find all this music?

  “YoSoph” is for Sophia Young, only backwards and shortened. Not super-original I know, but it’s a bit more interesting than “EDalton123,” don’t you think? (That was a joke. I’m not really making fun of your e-mail address, okay?)

  I’d send more questions but Tom’s taking me to some kind of gathering. He says it’s going to be “fun.” Apparently there will be fried fish and football. Oh, and a crab-boil, which just sounds very Maryland-y. I’m super-excited to have my whole day commandeered by his day off.

  So I’ll see you tomorrow. Here’s food for thought until the next time…If you could turn Chris Anderson into any inanimate object, what would he be?

  Later,

  Sophie.

  I wished that I understood her better. Although I was happy with this new form of communication, she didn’t give me much to work with. What she did give me was a very bleak picture. Not that the picture I painted was much better, but from her e-mail I got that she can’t live without marijuana, her goal is to party, she doesn’t want to hang around after she dies, and she doesn’t like to think about all the places she’ll never go.