by A. M. Irvin
Which wasn’t necessarily fair.
Because I expected everything from him in return.
“I haven’t,” I said softly, closing the used copy of Emily Dickinson poetry I was reading for one of my classes.
Bradley’s lip was split, and I could tell he had been chewing mercilessly at the skin. It looked like it hurt. I could have given him a tissue from my bag. Maybe I should have told him to put ice on it. I didn’t do either. He’d never allow my offers of help. I had learned that quickly.
He bore his pain silently. Alone. He didn’t show it to anyone. Except to me. Only ever to me.
I knew his secrets, and he was confident that I’d never share them. He knew I’d never use them against him.
If he could trust anyone, it would be me. I had earned it with my own tears and tragedy.
“Let’s go then,” he said gruffly, picking up my bag from the ground. I got to my feet and wiped dead grass from my pants. He clicked his tongue in exasperation. “You shouldn’t be sitting out here. It’s way too cold. You’ll get sick or something.”
I rolled up my paperback and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans. “I’m okay. Promise,” I assured him. He needed to hear me say it.
I’m okay.
Even if it was a lie, he found solace in the deception. He wanted to believe that I was fine. That I’d be all right.
He let out a sigh that would have sounded like relief except for the firm set of his jaw and the angry glint in his green eyes. So hard. So unyielding.
“Come on,” he gave my hand a pull, and we started to walk across the campus. Neither of us spoke to anyone.
Me, because no one noticed I was there. Bradley, because he didn’t see anyone else.
We entered the small cafeteria, and I found a small table near the back while Bradley went to buy our food. He knew what I’d like so I didn’t have to tell him.
I dropped down into a chair with my back against the wall. It was important for me to always see my exits.
Bradley still had my bag, so I twirled the frayed edges of my scarf around my finger and waited.
“Hey, Nora.”
I stopped breathing. My face flushed red.
She was here.
Maren sat down in the chair opposite me, and I lifted my head to look at her. I gave her all of my face, not hiding anything from this complete stranger.
“Hi,” I responded. I glanced over her shoulder and saw that Bradley was still waiting in line.
Thankfully he was looking the other way.
“I was hoping that I’d see you again,” Maren said, folding her hands together on top of a battered notebook with a blue and green cover. My heart did cartwheels in my chest.
She was wearing cut off jean shorts with zebra stripped leggings underneath. Her yellow sweater fell off her shoulder, and she wore a necklace with a large wrought metal sun around her neck.
Her statement left me flustered and I didn’t know how to respond, so I pointed at the sun lying between her breasts. “I like your necklace.”
Maren looked down at her jewelry. “Thanks. I made it actually. I took a welding class last year when I lived in Baltimore.”
I latched onto the tiny detail she had given me. “You lived in Baltimore?”
Maren smiled. She was lovely in the way perfect people were. With clear skin and sparkling eyes that made my stomach knot up. Did she have any idea the affect she had on me? Was I able to hide it the way I hid everything else?
Somehow I doubted it.
My palms began to sweat and I wiped them on my jeans.
“Hartford, Connecticut before that, and St. Louis, Missouri before that. I’ve moved around a lot.” Maren picked at a spot on her sleeve. There was nothing there. I looked.
Bradley was still getting our lunch, but he had noticed Maren at our table. His face was surprisingly unreadable.
I didn’t like it.
“I’ve only ever lived here,” I replied, watching Bradley as he watched me.
Maren ran a hand through her long hair, and my attention was torn from my possessive friend to the woman who demanded to be looked at.
“You don’t sound happy about that,” Maren observed.
I shrugged. “I’m not,” I found myself admitting. I liked telling her my secrets.
“I wonder which of us had it worse then?” Maren tilted her head to the side and regarded me steadily. She chewed on a piece of loose skin on her bottom lip. White teeth nibbling on dry, flaky flesh.
“What do you mean?” I asked, sounding strangely breathless.
Maren tapped the back of my hand with her finger and I stiffened. Then melted. Then froze. Then fell apart. Slowly she began to trace endless looping circles on my bare skin. Connected. Eternal. Infinity.
“Was it worse for you or me? Me without roots or you with roots that run so deep that they’ve cemented you to the ground?”
It was a good question. One I wish I could answer. But I never had the chance to think about it.
“You’re in my chair.”
Maren frowned but didn’t look up at the sound of Bradley’s deep, threatening voice. She didn’t get up either. She gazed at me, giving me a long penetrating look that was filled with a thousand uncertainties.
“Do you want me to leave?” she whispered, the query loaded with insinuation.
Bradley dropped my sandwich in front of me with a glare that would make a normal person shake in their shoes. I knew he was moments away from physically removing Maren. I could see him clenching his fists over and over again.
He became angry so easily. It didn’t take much to light his fuse. Maren’s frown deepened, her body tensed. I knew how she interpreted my relationship with Bradley.
She didn’t know how right and how wrong she was.
I could never explain to her, or anyone, how hard it was for Bradley to share anything. Let alone the attention and affection of the only person who he counted on.
A perfect family hid so much. The drying blood on his cheeks revealed those things best ignored.
I was possessive of his jealous anger.
Maren watched me. Bradley watched Maren. I watched both of them. My heart full in uncomfortable ways.
Finally with the tension ratcheting ever higher, Maren slowly got to her feet, pushing the chair out behind her. The legs scraped loudly across the linoleum floor.
“I’d like to call you sometime, Nora,” Maren announced, purposefully ignoring Bradley, who impatiently seethed.
I began to reach into my pocket to get my phone, a slight smile on my face. I knew what was going to happen.
It excited me.
Bradley grabbed my wrist and held me tight. I left my phone where it was.
Maren bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. A small bead of red blossomed beneath her teeth. My mouth went dry.
“Bye, Maren,” I said softly, our eyes meeting. I heard a humming in my ears. Like a melody.
Like a song.
Our song.
“Bye, Nora,” she responded just as softly.
She slipped her bag onto her shoulder and left. Bradley instantly took the seat she had just vacated.
It angered me to see him there.
“You could be a little nice, you know,” I told him off handedly.
Bradley opened his sandwich and tore it into tiny, messy pieces.
“You’re too trusting, Nora. I would have thought you’d have learned to be more wary of people.” Bradley sounded upset, and I knew it was for me. He knew that looks were deceiving. It was a lesson we had both been taught in brutal, vicious ways.
“Maren’s nice—”
“She’s pretty. There’s a difference,” he interrupted, sounding so, so bitter.
I stiffened. “You think she’s pretty?”
Bradley looked at me in his usual way. Hard. Probing. Territorial. “Of course I do. Don’t you?”
I swallowed a mouthful of bread, almost choking.
“Maybe
your mother was right to lock you away,” Bradley said, words cold. Sharp and piercing my heart.
I took another bite, filling my mouth.
“That way you would be safe,” he said softly. “Away from everyone who could hurt you.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, gripping it tightly, knuckles crushed together. Bone on bone.
“You can’t trust anyone, Nora. But you can always trust me. I’ll always protect you. I promised you years ago that I’d look out for you. And I will. No matter what. Even if you hate me for it.”
I felt hot all over. “I know you will,” I whispered, feeling flushed and agitated.
His truth was scary. But it was reassuring too. I knew the lengths he would go to. For my friend, there were no limits.
I wrapped his words around my heart and kept them there.
His confession was all mine.
Day 5
The Present
Not with a bang but a whimper
I laid on my back, relishing in the twinge of pain. It kept me grounded. Rooted to the present. I needed that right now.
Lights danced in front of my eyes even though I knew it wasn’t possible for me to see them. The darkness hadn’t changed. The heat was still impenetrable. I was always hungry. So hungry. I thought it had only been a day since I ran out of water, but already the thirst made me crazy.
And the lights that shouldn’t be there blinded me. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision.
I covered my face with my hands and concentrated on pulling air into my lungs.
Then I heard voices.
Murmurs really. Words unclear. A woman and a man. I didn’t recognize either of them, but something about their tone had me sweating and shaking. I wanted to curl into a ball and hide so they couldn’t see me.
They spoke in low, urgent whispers. I knew they were talking about me.
They’re not here!
I’m alone!
The voices became louder. My head hurt. Too much. I couldn’t focus on anything. It was meaningless mumbles blurring together.
I pushed myself into the concrete. The still healing wounds on my back ached from the pressure. But it cleared my mind. The voices faded. The lights disappeared. The illusions were gone, and I doubted they were ever there to begin with.
Time moved slowly. Maybe it didn’t move at all.
Nothing changed. It was one never-ending drone of monotony. Hunger. Thirst. Pain. Fear.
It pressed around my heart, taking over. Invading and conquering until there was nothing left but my hazy memories and barely controlled madness.
I lightly tapped the silver ring on the floor in a repetitive rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I smiled through my suffering.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I snuck into Rosie’s room. I had to be fast. I knew she’d be home soon. Mother had gone to pick her up from a friend’s house.
Rosie had only been living with us for a few weeks and already she had a life.
She went to slumber parties. She went shopping for dresses and cool shoes. She giggled on the phone in the evening and gossiped about boys in the hallway at school.
She had everything that I wanted. It came so easily to her.
Being normal.
I headed straight for her dresser and opened the small jewelry box Mother had given her when she arrived. I started sifting through the mess of necklaces and bracelets. My fingers lingered over the sparkly, colorful things that I had never had.
And there it was. The ring.
I had wanted it. So much. Mother knew. She didn’t care. She gave it to Rosie. Had it made just for her.
I picked it up and slipped it onto my ring finger. It was too large. It didn’t fit.
Of course it didn’t.
It wasn’t made for me. It belonged to her.
Instead I put it on my thumb and it was snug. Maybe . . . just maybe it could be mine . . .
I heard the front door open, and I scrambled to put the ring back. But I hesitated. I wanted to keep it.
It should be mine!
It wasn’t fair!
Why did Rosie get the pretty ring and beautiful clothes?
I could hear Rosie’s voice just at the foot of the stairs. I didn’t have long.
I quickly put the ring back in its spot and quietly closed the jewelry box. Just as I was about to turn around to leave, I glanced up and into the mirror that hung on the wall behind the dresser.
The reflection that stared back at me was that of a spiteful, jealous monster.
My teeth were exposed behind my roughly split lip. Disfigured. Horrifying.
I looked like a monster.
I was a monster.
I ran my fingers over my lip. I wished I could love this face. I wished I could feel good about the skin that now fit together. But I couldn’t. It was impossible.
Not after everything . . .
“Why does she lock you up?” Bradley Somers asked. My boy with the green eyes who watched me at school and followed me home every day. He lived just down the road in the lovely white house with blue shutters. He and his family had been living there for almost a year, but I had never spoken to his mother or his father. Nor either of his sisters.
And I had never spoken to him.
Until that night I saw him outside my window.
The night he saved me from my punishment.
I was walking home, sticking to side roads, purposefully avoiding busier streets. Away from peering eyes and whispered comments. Here, I could tie my hair back and enjoy the feel of the sun on my face.
These ten minutes outside, away from my mother, were the best part of my day. Dad had insisted that I be given some freedom. That I should be allowed to walk from school on my own. For once Mother listened. She had relented, though reluctantly. I think it had more to do with the fact that instead of picking me up, she could finish watching her soap opera in peace. Whatever the reason, I was glad.
Bradley always kept me company on my way home. Though he rarely talked. He seemed content to walk behind me. He’d wait out on the sidewalk by Mother’s car until I made it into my house. Only then did he continue home.
“Why do you climb my tree?” I asked, not answering his question. It made me uncomfortable.
I could hear Bradley breathing behind me. He was a strange boy. He didn’t talk to anyone in school. He kept to himself. I didn’t understand why. He was so handsome. All the girls noticed. I noticed.
He got into a lot of fights. He was always covered in scrapes and bruises. I knew he used the physical injuries to cover over things . . .
“You don’t deserve to be locked away. She’s wrong.” He spoke like someone much older than his years. But his words made me incredibly happy.
“You could do something about it, you know,” he continued.
“What?” I asked.
“You could run away.”
I shook my head.
Bradley grabbed my hand, squeezing it. “You could make her leave you alone,” he said quietly.
There was something about his tone that scared me. But it made me feel better too.
Bradley squeezed my hand again, harder this time.
“I could do it for you.”
And he meant it.
I missed Bradley. When I thought about him, my stomach clenched and my heart hurt. Thinking of him made me feel so many things. Some of them understandable. Protected. Connected. Happy.
But there were other feelings as well. Ones that made no sense.
Because when I thought of Bradley I also felt angry. I felt betrayed.
I felt . . . ashamed.
And those feelings overshadowed all others.
I rolled onto my side and curled into a fetal position, incredibly confused.
Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.
What did you do?
Green eyes hot with desire. Kisses on warm skin.
I cried. I screamed.
Mine!
I had always thought i
t belonged to me.
I lived a life of lies . . .
The Past
Four Months Ago
“Is it safe to talk?”
I looked up from my notebook. I was sure she was being flirty. I loved how every statement was given like a shared confidence. It made me feel special. Like I belonged.
I couldn’t help but smile back.
It was so easy to do. With her.
She had a way of making everything seem better. Brighter.
We had shared a handful of conversations. Stolen moments between classes. Not much had been said, but in some ways they were the most poignant discussions I had ever had.
Maren sat down beside me on the stone bench outside of the library. I had been sitting there for almost an hour waiting for her. I knew she would happen upon me, and I wanted to be ready.
I knew that she walked this direction on the way to her car. Her class would have been dismissed fifteen minutes ago, and she sometimes stayed to ask her professor questions about an assignment. Maren seemed to be the studious sort, even if she didn’t look like it.
I knew a lot about Maren Digby. The kind of information gleaned from careful observation.
I knew her schedule. I knew that she was only taking three classes at the community college. One English class, Statistics, and Political Science. The English class was the one she had just left.
The Political Science class had surprised me. She didn’t seem the kind of girl to be interested in politics. I appreciated that there was more to her than what I had originally guessed. She was more than a beautiful hippie in flowing tops and patchwork jeans. She was more than the girl with the toothpaste commercial smile and silver bejeweled fingers.
Maren was kind. She was thoughtful. She was everything I wished I could be.
I liked so many things about her. All the things I had learned and the things I had yet to discover.
I noticed how she would bring an apple and a bag of crackers with her so that she didn’t have to waste money on lunch. She would eat the apple first, but she’d keep the core instead of throwing it away. She would wrap it up in a napkin and put it back in the cloth sack she used to carry her food.