by Jenni Wilder
“Finally,” Lincoln said quietly.
“Hmm??” I asked with a sleepy voice.
“Finally that damn movie’s over.” He reached for the remote and turned off the TV.
“You didn’t like it?” I was kind of hurt. I thought I had picked out good movies.
“Did you catch any of that movie?”
“No,” I giggled and snuggled into him. I had been too focused on Lincoln to pay attention to the movie.
“Worth it, though,” he said as he moved both hands down to my hips. This is why I wore the sweater dress. He would not have easy access to me.
I lifted my head off his chest and shifted forward so I could look at him. I peered down into his deep blue eyes and forgot about everything other than this man underneath me. I didn’t want to worry about anything other than making Lincoln feel as special as he made me feel. I lowered my lips to his and kissed him deeply. All thoughts of being tired vanished from my mind as he squeezed my hips and kissed me back. Our mouths moved together, and I felt his tongue against my lips. I opened my mouth to let him in and moaned as I pushed my tongue back against his. Our legs tangled, and Lincoln’s hands moved all over my body. One hand clenched on my hip while he ran the other from my waist to my back and then to my ribs. Had I not been distracted by his kiss, it would have tickled. He paused on my ribs momentarily before moving his hand up to cup my breast. He moaned into my mouth as he squeezed my breast through my sweater, and I whimpered when his thumb skimmed over my nipple, causing warm desire to flow through me.
Without breaking our connection, Lincoln shifted out from under me and rolled, taking me with him so I ended up on my back with my head on the pillow of the couch and Lincoln on top of me. He pulled back and looked down at me while smiling. I smiled back and brought a hand up to run my fingers through his short hair. His body weight felt so good on me.
He brought his lips down to mine again and kissed me passionately. I moved my hand down to Lincoln’s waist and ran my fingers over the skin at his hip where his shirt had ridden up. Lincoln hummed with pleasure, and I could feel him hardening through his jeans as he moved against my leg. Lincoln’s passion intensified, and he moved his hand from my breast to my thigh.
My head was too foggy from the passion between us to realize what he was doing before it was too late. Lincoln slipped his hand under the hem of my dress and shifted his weight so he was able to pull my dress up for better access to me. Lincoln had his hand all the way up to the top of my leggings before my brain kicked in.
“Stop. Stop.” I pleaded as I ripped my lips away from his. “Please stop,” I repeated, clamping my hand over Lincoln’s and pushing it away. I squeezed my eyes shut, and I felt Lincoln pull back from me, halting his advances. I tried to wiggle out from underneath him, but his weight was too great. “Please stop, Lincoln!” I cried, panicking.
“I’ve stopped! I’m not doing anything, Jillian,” he said with concern as he sat back and held his hands up. I looked down and saw my dress was bunched up around my waist but still over my leggings. No skin was showing.
I swallowed hard with relief. I pulled my sweater back in place and tried to calm my breathing.
“Jillian, I’m sorry! I thought you… I thought we…” he stumbled his apology.
I just shook my head and tried to hide my embarrassment. I covered my face with my hands to conceal the tears welling up in my eyes. I desperately wanted this man. And I knew he wanted me too. Or at least he thought he wanted me. I knew he wanted more from me, but I couldn’t give it to him and it made my heart hurt.
“I should go home,” I said and sat up on the couch, wishing I had driven myself.
“What?! No!” Lincoln argued. “Please don’t leave, baby. I’m sorry I got a little overexcited. I’ll behave. Don’t leave.” He thought I was mad at him for pushing too fast.
“Lincoln, no—you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry. I just…” I trailed off. I didn’t know what to tell him. Now would be the perfect time to explain why I couldn’t be with him. But I chickened out.
“Jillian?” Lincoln prompted me.
“I’m sorry. It’s late. I should go.”
Lincoln scooted closer to me on the couch and stroked my head with his hand, but I turned away from his comfort. I felt like I was lying to him and I didn’t deserved his affection.
“Jillian, please talk to me. I’m sorry, baby.” He sounded so regretful. The need to assure him that I was okay made me lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll take it slow. Just don’t leave.”
We sat on the couch like that for a long while. Lincoln wanted me to talk to him but I couldn’t find the words. I had kept my secret locked up for so long I didn’t even know where to start.
I imagined Lincoln’s reaction. I pictured the disgusted look on his face when he saw my scars and how he would recoil away from me. My heart hurt. I didn’t want to lose him but the fear of him finding out how ugly I was made me retreat emotionally.
Finally Lincoln broke the silence by suggesting going for a walk down by the lake. He didn’t want me to leave, and knowing I had ruined our night made me agree even though I really just wanted to go home.
We bundled up and walked along the snow-covered beach. Lincoln held my hand and I tried to keep up conversation, but it was only halfhearted. I knew he suspected something was off with me, but he also didn’t ask, perhaps knowing I wouldn’t tell him and if he pushed me I would leave.
The night sky was cloudless and the moonlight illuminated our path. I stopped walking and turned my head up to look at the stars. I could see my breath fogging every time I exhaled. Lincoln stepped in front of me and brought his hand up to cup my cheek.
“You’re so beautiful right now,” he told me. I knew he would not be saying that if he had discovered my scars tonight.
I felt the blush rising, and I looked down at the snow and stepped back from him.
“Jillian…please look at me.” I kept my head down for a moment. I didn’t want to look at him. If I looked at him, I felt he would know I was withdrawing from him.
He brought his hand to my chin and pulled my face up, forcing me to look at him. “I just need for you to know how beautiful you are right now. You’re incredibly gorgeous, and I’m so happy you’re here with me.”
I wished those words could be the truth. I knew I was none of the things Lincoln said. I felt like my scars were screaming at me underneath my clothes damning me to a life of loneliness and sadness.
Before meeting Lincoln, I had accepted my fate. I would grow old and die a lonely, ugly spinster, never having known the love of a man. But I had accepted that before Lincoln came into my life. Never before did I have something so wonderful to hope for. I had let myself pretend for a brief time I could be normal. I should have just dismissed him from the beginning. Left the parade and never looked back. But he had been so persistent and handsome, and he said the sweetest things to me. I let myself hope that we could have a relationship when in reality he would never call me beautiful if he knew the truth. I had to stop this sham. There was nothing to be gained by pretending we could have a relationship. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Lincoln, but I couldn’t let this continue.
“Lincoln…” I looked up at him and saw hope in his eyes. I realized he was hoping I would tell him why I freaked out on the couch and what I was holding back from him. “It’s getting late,” I told him.
Lincoln’s face fell. The hope vanished from his eyes and was replaced with concern and a touch of anger. I could tell he was upset I hadn’t confided in him. His eyes roamed my face, and finally he pulled me into a gentle hug. “Okay, baby. I’ll take you home.”
~~~~~~~~
“Will you come to my game tomorrow?” Lincoln asked as he stood in front of me outside my front door.
“Oh, I have to watch Tabitha tomorrow,” I told him. It was the truth and an easy excuse.
“Bring her with. I’ll get you both tickets,” he said, his eyes were pleading.
I scrunched up my nose. “Tabitha doesn’t really like hockey. I don’t think I could get her to sit through a whole game.”
He sighed. “Could you try? For me?” Lincoln was outright pleading with me now.
I couldn’t look him in the eye. So I looked down and simply nodded.
“I’ll have tickets for you at Will Call. Just give them your name.”
I nodded and continued to look at the floor. I was afraid if I looked him in the eye I would break down.
“Jillian…” he said softly as he grabbed my hand and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I don’t know how to make this better if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.” He kissed my cheek and said good night and walked back to his SUV.
My eyes welled up, and I unlocked the door and entered the dark house. I was grateful Rebecca and Tabitha had already gone to bed.
I slipped off my shoes and beautiful new coat and trudged up the dark stairwell to my bedroom. I grabbed my pajamas and went to the bathroom. When I finished my bedtime hygiene routine, I stood in front of the mirror naked. Dark red jagged, distorted skin ran from my sternum down my stomach to the top of my left thigh, covering my hip and part of my left butt cheek. The skin was warped, lumpy, and angry red, the exact opposite of my untouched skin. The edges of the scars were pulled tight, showing an attempt to graph new skin over the burned areas to help with healing. It had healed well but the visible results were not as positive.
Tears fell out of my eyes as I tried to cover the ugly gnarled scars with my hands, splaying them out over my stomach and hip. I sobbed as I recalled everything these scars held me back from experiencing. I missed my father’s funeral. I had been in the hospital for the majority of fifth grade. By the time I was healed enough after the fire to return to school, my friends had either forgotten about me or they were too young to realize what had happened and therefor were wary of me. For the remainder of my middle-school career, I spent most of my free time catching up on schoolwork or in therapy. My school attendance suffered due to my numerous doctors’ visits, and as I transitioned into high school I became an outcast.
I tried to be friendly and upbeat, but the other students knew about my past and either labeled me as a freak or looked upon me with pity.
I missed prom because no one wanted to take the burned girl as a date, and I missed graduation due to an infection after a skin graft procedure. By the time I got to college, I was more than happy to leave behind my traumatized past and start new, just like everyone hopes to do in college.
First semester of my freshman year went well. I had a bitch for a roommate, but I mostly stayed to myself and Mackenzie didn’t bother me. I went out a few times with girls from my dorm, but years of being alone made old habits hard to break. I enjoyed life and I wanted to have friends to share it with, but when Mackenzie detonated her bitch bomb in my life, she caused untold damage. I gave up trying to have any friends. I couldn’t go through that hurt again. I moved out of the dorms before the year ended and eventually moved in with Rebecca and Tabitha.
That was my saving grace. Tabitha would never hurt me or abandon me. I had been content with my life. School, work, Tabitha. I often pretended Tabitha was my own daughter when we were out together, just the two of us. I knew I would never have kids. I would never find a man that wanted me and wanted to have a family with me. That was the hardest thing to bear about my whole fucked-up life. Tabitha was as close as I was ever going to get to motherhood. I cherished my time with my niece. I never stepped on Rebecca’s authority, but I also feared the inevitable day I would have to move out and away from Tabitha.
But now everything was a disaster. I thought about Lincoln and what he wanted from me. Things I could never give him. I wasn’t being fair to him. He was such a wonderful man. He deserved to have someone who could make him happy. Not this shell of a woman who could never be beautiful for him.
I abruptly turned the light off in the bathroom. I couldn’t stand to see my reflection any longer. I felt around for my pajamas lying on the floor and got dressed in the dark. Retreating to my bedroom, I collapsed on my bed and sobbed into my pillow. I hated feeling this way. I didn’t want to cry myself to sleep and allow my pain to consume me. I didn’t want live in my grief. I wanted to cherish this life that had almost been ripped away from me in the fire, and I wanted to honor the memory of my father by living a full and happy life.
More feelings of guilt enveloped me. I felt as if I could suffocate under the weight of all my guilt. Guilt for not embracing life. Guilt for leading Lincoln on. Hell, I even felt guilty for relying on Tabitha to make me happy. Maybe I needed to call my therapist and schedule another session. It had been years since I talked to someone, but it couldn’t be normal for one person to have this many mixed-up feelings, could it? I made a mental note to call for an appointment first thing on Monday, and with the hope of my therapist being able to talk me through this, my tears subsided and I fell asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
I texted Lincoln right before I knew he would be taking the ice and wouldn't be able to check his phone. I told him Tabitha was sick and we wouldn’t make it to the game. It was a bald faced lie, but I didn’t have the energy to fake enthusiasm over a game while in the middle of a crowd of people. I took Tabitha grocery shopping and then for a short walk by the pier. It was colder out today, and I didn’t want Tabitha to actually get sick.
When we returned home I let Tabitha watch a cartoon about a princess and the prince that rescues her. It made me cringe and think of Lincoln. He was not going to be happy I didn’t go to the game. He was leaving tonight for an away game and wouldn’t be back until late tomorrow night. If I successfully avoided him today, we wouldn’t have a chance to see each other until I got off work Monday, but I hoped I could put him off longer than that.
Rebecca came home from work and I made the three of us a quick and easy dinner of sandwiches and soup. My sister could tell I was upset.
“Didn’t Lincoln have a game today?” she asked, and I nodded. “Did you watch it?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
I shrugged.
“What’s wrong?” Rebecca finally asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said avoiding her eyes.
“How did last night go?” she asked and I just shrugged my shoulders. “You weren’t out that late. I heard you come home.”
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
“No, you didn’t. I was still awake.”
When it became obvious that I was not going to divulge details about my night Rebecca tried again. “So you don’t want to talk about it at all?”
I shook my head and picked at my food. After a long pause, I finally spoke. “I’m going to call Dr. Raussman on Monday,” I said quietly.
Rebecca immediately sat forward. She excused Tabitha from the table and clasped my hand.
“What happened?” she asked with vivid concern. Worry was written across my sister's face as she willed me to tell her what prompted this. I pulled my hand free and slumped down, curling myself inward.
“I just… don’t think I’m dealing with things as well as I thought I was,” I admitted slowly.
Rebecca wasn’t about to let that go without an explanation. “Why do you say that?”
I rested my forehead on the heel of my palm. “I don’t like feeling this way. I’m confused, and I feel so guilty about everything.”
“What are you feeling guilty about? Not about dad?” Rebecca’s voice was laced with anxiety. My siblings and our mother all suffered from survivor’s guilt over our father’s death.
I shrugged. “Always. But it’s more than that.”
“Jillian, I don’t understand,” she said, but our conversation was interrupted when my phone chimed. Lincoln was calling me. He must be done with his post-game duties. I ignored it.
Rebecca looked between me and the p
hone with confusion. “You aren’t going to answer?”
The phone silenced and immediately started ringing again. I sat with my eyes closed, fighting the tears that threatened to show on my face.
I heard Rebecca’s chair scrape on the floor, and I opened my eyes. She had grabbed my phone and was about to answer it.
“No! Rebecca!” I cried, but it was too late. She swiped her finger across the screen of my phone and held it up to her ear.
“Lincoln?” she said as she stared at me with one eyebrow raised. “No, it’s Rebecca.” She paused. “Tabitha? She’s fine.” Rebecca’s face was full of confusion.
I dropped my face into my hands as the tears overflowed. I didn’t have words for the emotions that were inside me. I was so confused. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Lincoln, but he had just discovered I had lied to him. “I don’t know. She’s upset.” She paused, and I looked up at her. “She won’t tell me.” She paused again and then held the phone out to me. “He wants to talk to you.”
I shook my head, and Rebecca waved the phone at me in a you-can’t-avoid-this motion. I took the phone from Rebecca and held it up to my ear. “Hi…” I said and sniffed my nose.
“Jillian… you’re scaring me. Please talk to me,” Lincoln said through the phone.
I sniffed again. “I don’t know what to say, Lincoln.” I wiped tears away with my free hand.
“I’m coming over.”
“No, Lincoln. I can’t handle this,” I argued.
“Jillian. Please, baby.” His voice was full of stress. “I don’t really understand what happened, but please don’t give up.”
I couldn’t answer him. My throat was tight as I tried to contain my sobs. Was I giving up? I didn’t want to, but I didn’t think I had a choice. He would eventually discover what I was hiding, and once he saw my ugliness he wouldn’t want me.