Honorable Disgrace

by Stephanie N. Pitman

  I hugged myself and kicked at a dirt clod. It broke apart as it skittered across the field. I was a good ten miles from home and if it wasn’t for the chill and my wet clothes, I’d welcome the long walk. But so far away, I realized my escape had only added more misery.

  My adrenaline gone, each step was jarring. My ribs where Brad had kicked me hitched painfully. Limping, I made for the main road, cutting across the field diagonally in an attempt at a shortcut. As I neared the asphalt, headlights broke over the rise and blinded me. They were on me before I had a chance to decide whether I wanted to jump out in front of them or hide. I swiped at my face and hoped they couldn’t see what a mess I was. I did not want some Good Samaritan trying to come to my aid. Squaring my shoulders, I gritted my teeth and broke into what I hoped looked like a purposeful jog, keeping my eyes forward.

  Tires skidded on the asphalt, the smell of burnt rubber permeating the air, the rumble of the engine familiar and temporarily welcome. The shape of a lifted blue Jeep loomed at me.

  Staggered, I froze. At the sound of my name and the thud of a door, my heart thumped furiously against my ribs. Cory’s strong silhouette moved toward me, growing more substantial as he came. I felt a pang of longing, wanting to rush to him, to be held and protected, the ferocity of missing him crippling.

  Instead I found myself running in the opposite direction.

  “Angie, wait. I only want to talk to you.” The relief in his voice changed to a panicky frustration.

  I stumbled awkwardly through the dirt, the ground deeply furrowed from being plowed. It hadn’t felt this uneven when I crossed a moment ago. Chancing a look behind me I tripped and crashed to the cold soil. Cory was closing in, his long strides sure to overtake me soon.

  Scrambling to my feet, I darted down one of the ruts rather than persist in climbing over the bumpy rows. His footsteps pounded after me, right on top of me.

  “Angie, what the hell?” He snagged my arm and pulled me to a stop.

  “Let me go,” I cried weakly, my cheeks streaked with dirt and tears. I fought his hold, trying to break free, silently hoping he wouldn’t let me.

  When he didn’t, a small part of me celebrated, but I refused to look at him. Tenderly placing his hand on my chin, I didn’t resist when he tilted my face up. At the sight of him my heart throbbed excruciatingly, like a knife had plunged into it again and again.

  “Cory?” Why was he here?

  “Angie.” His voice was tense but soft. “Ang, I don’t know what I was thinking the other night. It was stupid. I swear I was only coming to give you your phone. When I saw you through the window smiling at Brad I just lost it. I’m so sorry.”

  His simple apology plunged the knife deeper, as did the mention of Brad. I closed my eyes, trembling with the strain of holding my tears at bay.

  His thumb caressed my damp cheek. I jerked back at the tenderness.

  Like a spotlight, the Jeep lit us up, my breath catching when I realized Cory was in his tux, a blue cumberbund the exact color of my dress affixed around his firm waist. He was so unbelievably handsome, my veneer of control was weakening, the pang of longing so extreme it took the air from my lungs. I wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, bury my face in the crook of his neck, kiss the pulsing heartbeat there.

  Too absorbed in my observation of his attire, I missed the subtle shift in his features. In that moment I realized this wasn’t the aggressively handsome guy I knew. He looked young and uncertain, so much so I almost threw my arms around his neck. “Give me another chance, Ang. I’ll do anything.”

  His Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to tell him myself, my determination to end things splintering under his earnest, persuasive gaze. I looked away from his piercing stare, pursing my lips, unsure what to say.

  Shaking my head, I hugged my torso and backed away. Uncertainty etched his features. “Cory, I’m doing you a favor. Trust me. You don’t want me.”

  “Of course I do. I just chased you through a damn potato field in a tux. What does that tell you?” He held his hands out to me. “I can’t think about anything but you. The thought of losing you makes me … argh!” His voice quavered. Turning away from me, he put his hands up to his head, and then faced me. Unshed tears glittered in his eyes—but it had to be a trick of the headlights. “Angie, please. Don’t do this.”

  He laced his fingers with mine, his face twisted in such torment my resolve disintegrated. I stepped into his arms and clung to him fiercely. I breathed him in like air. I felt truly safe for the first time since Brad … I bit my lip against my sorrow. But what Brad had done to me and the possible repercussions—I couldn’t drag Cory into that. I had to be strong. I had to give him up, so he could be with someone healthy and whole, someone untainted and undamaged, someone good for him. If I truly cared for him, I had to.

  I started to pull back again, but he held me firmly. I wasn’t sure if he was the one shaking or if it was me. He pressed his lips to my hair, moving down to my forehead and then to my cheek. I went rigid. This time he let me pull out of his arms, but clutched my hand tightly in his.

  “Cory …” I began, hesitant where to begin. I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t tell him the truth, but I had to tell him something, something to make him see I wasn’t good for him. I shivered, pulling my jacket closed. “I …”

  “You’re freezing,” he interrupted, guiding me back to his Jeep, his arm around my shoulder. “You need to get home and into some dry clothes. If you still want to, we might make it for part of the dance. If we hurry.”

  I halted and tugged free. “Cory, I’m not going to the dance. I can’t. We can’t … be together. I’m not … worthy of you.”

  “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide?” He grasped my shoulders and shook me slightly, his fingers digging into me, his face hard, almost unforgiving. Like Brad’s.

  “Oww, Br—Cory, you’re hurting me,” I cried, panic seizing me. His fingers pressed into my wounds. Wrenching from his grasp, I lurched away and broke into a run. I didn’t get far.

  “Angie.” He caught me around the waist almost like a tackle, but for the care he took to keep me from falling. He stepped around to face me. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  His face was contorted and pinched. And then he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked how I felt inside. I almost softened, about to tell him it was okay, but steeled myself against it. Against him. I had to end this.

  “Cory, let me go,” I said coldly. “I’m going home.”

  His expression crushed me. Quickly masking his pain, he hitched a blank look onto his face, his eyes losing their luster, his broad shoulders going slack in defeat. The last shred of my soul shriveled and died.

  “Can I at least take you home? It’s dark and cold.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, the murky shadows and cold swirling wind making me reconsider my initial response. “Okay.”

  He fell into step with me as I headed to his Jeep. On the brink of collapse, my muscles spent, emotionally numb, I faltered. His arm shot out to catch me, and then released me as soon as I was upright.

  I watched my steps carefully so as not to have further contact. I glimpsed his hand a hairsbreadth from mine before he retreated. It was hard not to touch him. Forcing my hands down to my sides, I shoved them in to my pockets, balling them into fists. This was for the best, I reminded myself.

  At least for Cory.

  He quickened his pace, making it to the Jeep first. He yanked my door open with an angry jerk, and then stalked around to the other side without his usual offer of help. The interior light dimly illuminated a single white calla lily nestled in a clear plastic case on my seat, a sleek blue ribbon wrapped around the elegant stem, a perfect match to my dress. It was beautiful. I froze, a bitter lump caught in my throat.

  Cory jumped into his seat and closed his door firmly. Scooping up the flower, he held it for a moment before setting it gently on the dash.

  I shivered and
slid into my seat, fingering the zipper of my jacket. He placed the flower in my lap without a word. My muscles tensed and I made no move to touch it. I waited for Cory to put the Jeep in drive, the low growl of the engine the only sound.

  His fingers closed around the shifter and his knuckles stood out as he gripped it. His gaze rippled through me and my blood ran cold, the color draining from my face as I saw the direction of his gaze. I must have shoved my sleeves up during my run.

  He touched my arm, his voice quivering, horror struck. “Did I do that?”

  Dark round finger bruises stood out severely against the pale skin on the inside of my elbow. Closing my eyes against the sudden pressure behind them, I pulled at my sleeve, but his hand prevented me.

  “No,” I choked. “No, you didn’t.” I pushed against his hand, but his grip tightened lightly, his jaw set in determination.

  “Where did they come from then?”

  Unable to pry my arm away, I covered the marks with my free hand. “Ouch, you’re hurting me. Let go.”

  “Sorry,” he released me. “Tell me, please, Angie. Where’d you get them?”

  “I … I fell … at work.”

  He wasn’t convinced. I knew he wasn’t. “You fell?”

  I looked away and tugged down my sleeves.

  “Don’t lie to me, Angie. Somebody did that to you.” His teeth gritted, his words fell on me like blows. “Those are finger marks.”

  “Uh, yeah, they are.” I tried to concoct a plausible story to explain away the bruises. What came out was not what I’d planned. “Claire caught me as I fell.”

  The muscles in his neck constricted as he swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing. “How’d you fall?”

  “I slipped …” I loathed seeing him look at me with pity, or anger, or … revulsion. “Umm, it was wet. I was mopping, and there was a puddle of water and Claire caught me. She has a surprisingly strong grip.”

  I heard his rumbling growl, and I thought he was going to continue to interrogate me, but he abruptly pulled out onto the road. Uneasy pressure built in the cab and by the time Cory turned onto my street, I was ready to jump out of the moving vehicle. My hand was poised over the buckle release, the other on the handle, and I sprang from the Jeep even before it had come to a complete stop.

  I dashed into the house, my mom looking up in surprise again. I yelled as I rushed by her, “I don’t want to see him.”

  When the doorbell chimed, I was already holed up in my room. I stood by my door and strained to hear, impossible to make out their words. And then my mom’s footsteps were on the stairs. Hurriedly I shut my door and kicked off my shoes. Slumping onto my bed just in time, she pushed into my room without a knock.

  Her look was reproachful, but she smartly kept whatever she was thinking to herself. She held out the small plastic box with the simple, white flower. “Cory asked me to give you this.”

  “I don’t want it.” I rolled onto my stomach, my back to her.

  “Angie, what’s going on with you? Did something happen with Cory?”

  “We broke up,” I stated flatly.

  “Honey, I’m sorry.” I heard her come toward me.

  “I just want to be alone, okay?”

  There was a rustle of movement. “Sure.” And then my door clicked closed. I spied the offensive flower at the foot of my bed where she’d left it, and I kicked it off my bed. I dug my chin into my folded arms.

  One memento from Cory would be okay, right? And Cory had left it for me even after I was horrible to him. Inching toward the foot of my bed, I stared down at the overturned box. I lost track of time, transfixed by the soft white petals. Slowly I stretched out my hand and pulled it to me, the plastic crackling as I picked it up. A loud pop resonated when I opened the case, the sweet perfume of the lily filling the air. Carefully, I lifted the flower to my nose. The container, now top heavy, tipped to the ground, a piece of white falling out onto my bed.

  I picked it up and turned it over, my name neatly printed in Cory’s simple, cramped handwriting.

  As I sit and dream of first we met,

  Not a thing do I regret.

  I pulled you near, held you tight,

  For in my arms you felt so right.

  Into your eyes I stared,

  My feelings for you I shared.

  You’re in every thought,

  My heart you’ve caught.

  My beautiful pure flower,

  I’m captivated by your power.

  Yours forever,

  Cory

  A tear splashed onto the card, smudging his name. It was the most beautiful, perfect thing I’d ever been given, and yet the irony struck my center. ‘Beautiful pure flower.’ I laughed harshly. Crumpling the card in my fist, I wrapped my arms around my stomach and doubled over.

  I missed Cory like an amputated limb. Looking for something to dull the pain in my heart as well as my body and soul, I hurried to the bathroom dumping an oversized handful of painkillers into my palm. I stared at the whiteness in my palm, then dumped all but two back into the bottle, washing those down with a glass of water.

  Still in my running clothes, mud splattered and puke covered, I sank onto my bed and pulled the covers over my head, forming a small pocket of space above my pillow. I clutched Cory’s poem to my chest, and caressed the silky ribbon of the flower between my thumb and finger. The repetitive action, combined with the sight and fragrance of the flower was comforting, quelling the wellspring of misery. Exhaustion weighed me down like a cloak, my eyes heavy, a sour taste in my mouth. I continued my cathartic rubbing of the ribbon, sleep finally taking me, my head full of Cory.

  At least in my dreams he could be mine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  JJ made it a habit of stopping by after school every day that week. True to her word, she never questioned me about Cory or my reason to end things with him, but it was there, hanging unspoken between us in the silences. She’d babble on about her day, nonsense, gossip, things she’d normally deem beneath her. When she’d run out of chitchat, she’d stretch out next to me and just hold my hand.

  I’d cling to her pale, lightly-freckled hand like it was a lifeline, pressure building in the back of my throat, behind my eyes, my nose beginning to drip. I’d try so hard not to sniffle, swiping at my nose with the back of my free hand, but inevitably I’d sniff. The first time I did it was the day after Cory had found me in the field. She’d started to ask me what was wrong, but I’d asked her to leave. Each time I broke down since that first time, she’d just squeeze my hand, and get up. “Same time tomorrow, huh?”

  I’d nod and then let the torrent of emotions wet my pillow once she disappeared, grateful for her unquestioning support even in the face of my continued silence. When she was with me, it was the only time I felt anything like my old self, even if it was only a glimmer.

  On Thursday JJ brought pizza. It made me intensely sick, the oozing greasy strings of mozzarella dangling off the triangle. I physically could not bring it to my lips to even pretend to take a bite, my stomach roiling and pitching. It was a painful reminder of my attacker. I chewed my fingers. I hadn’t been to work. Couldn’t. Was Brad going to make good on his threat? How was he going to make me sorry?

  The week had been a series of nightmarish dreams, waking to the reality of my nightmarish existence. But I hadn’t attempted to take my life again, not since I’d held that handful of pills. Somehow the sight of them had made me realize I wanted to live.

  “You gonna eat that or just stare at it?” JJ’s knee bumped my thigh as she adjusted her position on my bed, drawing me back to the present.

  In answer, I raised the triangular slice to my mouth, the first string of cheese touching my tongue making me gag. I dropped the pizza back onto the plate in my lap and shoved it away. “No, sorry.” I shrugged, “I’m still not feeling well enough.”

  “Has your mom taken you to the doctor yet?”

  “No.”

  She eyed me warily.

  I dro
pped my gaze, picking at a fuzzy on my comforter. “She tried. I … didn’t really cooperate. She said if after a week I wasn’t better she was taking me, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

  “It’s been a week.” She peered at me expectantly.

  “Yep,” was all I said.

  Expelling her breath sharply, she hitched on a half grimace, half smile. “You sure missed an amazing match tonight. It’s a miracle we came out on top, though. The other school had some really tough competition. It’s too bad you weren’t there. You’d have given the girl in your weight class a run for her money.”

  A ghost of a smile lifted the edges of my mouth, followed by a quiver of disappointment at missing out on the match. It was the first time in a week I’d felt a need to do anything, however small.

  “If it wasn’t for Hobbs, Brock, and Cory, we’d have lost for sure.”

  My lips pinched.

  Rattling on, oblivious to my quick intake of breath, JJ picked up my discarded plate and slid it into the empty pizza box. “My lifts weren’t bad. I won out on one, tied on another, but totally tanked the deadlift. I don’t know how you lift so much. It’s unbelievable when you think about it. I mean, there’s hardly anything to you, but you do it. Angie?”

  I hadn’t noticed she’d stopped talking.

  “Are you alright? Talk to me.” JJ’s voice rose in pitch and she gripped my shoulder roughly. “Angie, you’re scaring me. Look at me, look at me!”

  Slowly, I lifted my head, my vision blurred, the room spinning. Bright lights danced around JJ’s head, washing out all color. I opened my mouth to assure JJ I was fine, but all that came out was a high pitched squeak followed by a gasp, my lungs inflating as much needed oxygen filtered in.

  Colors returned in vivid brilliance, the lights around JJ’s head consolidating back into a single bulb and the room was once again motionless.