by Julia Mayer
I couldn’t let her keep doing this. She had two arms and half a leg full of scabs and scars. “I’m sorry, Samara. But I won’t let you keep hurting yourself.” I couldn’t look at her anymore; it hurt too much to see her anger and her sadness and her pain. I blew out the candle that was lighting up the room and left the mirror. I hugged a pillow in Samara’s bed and cried for close to an hour. I would have kept crying, but I ran out of tears.
***
I waited up for Samara’s father that night. I knew if I didn’t do it then, I never would. I sat on the couch in the living room in the dark for hours. Waiting. The cable box only flashed 12:00, so I don’t know exactly how long it was. The room was big and my heart was beating so hard that I could hear it echo, especially when someone got close to the front steps of her townhouse.
I knew every inch of that room by the time Samara’s father got home. I sat curled in the corner of the green leather couch, which was faded and worn from years of use. The couch was in the center of the room. In one corner behind it, an upright piano stood next to a huge window that took up most of the wall. The piano was covered in a layer of sad dust, showing that it hadn’t been played in years. In front of me in one corner were a television and the cable box with the clock that wasn’t set.
Next to the television was a fireplace with a mantel that held an assortment of pictures of Samara, her father, and her mother. The corner on the other side of the fireplace had a small stack of wood, showing that the fireplace had once been used. I could imagine a very distant past when a fire blazed and Samara and her father sat on the couch as her mother played piano, everyone smiling. But even those memories seemed to be covered by the same dust that covered the piano and the fireplace. They seemed unused, as if no one had even thought of them in years.
I shivered when I finally heard Samara’s dad’s car pull up. He turned on the light in the living room and jumped.
“Hi, Sam. What are you still doing up?”
“Hey,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep. There’s some stuff we need to talk about. I need to tell you something. It’s important.”
“What is it?” he asked, crossing the room to sit next to me on the couch.
I knew that what I was about to say was going to devastate him. I knew I was bringing him news that he would be happier without. But I also knew that Samara could never be happy if her dad didn’t know, if he couldn’t help her get through this. And as bad as I felt for this balding older man my father had once seen in the mirror, I had to keep my promise to Samara to help her.
I pulled up my sleeve to show him Samara’s arm. He immediately held onto my wrist and traced the scars. “What—?” But I interrupted his question.
“I’ve been cutting myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time, and I’m realizing now that I have to stop and I need you to help me.”
He sighed heavily and pulled me close to hug me. He smelled like scotch. I was prepared for certain questions I thought he would ask: What’s so wrong in your life, Samara? What made you think this was a good idea? But I don’t think he understood enough to ask any of those questions.
“I’m going to help you through this,” he said before his voice cracked. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice. I’m sorry I haven’t taken better care of you, that I didn’t take better care of your mother, and that she isn’t here to help you.”
I didn’t want to hear about his guilt; that wasn’t what was important. I wanted him to tell me what he would do for Samara to help her. “Don’t be sorry. Look at me, Dad. I need you. Don’t be sorry. Just don’t let me down. Not again.”
He looked shocked, and I felt shocked at the rage I had. It wasn’t even my rage. I knew this was hard on him too, but all I could think was how angry I was that he was making this all about him.
“You’re so strong,” he said to me. “I’m going to help you. I…I’m sorry, I don’t know how yet. I don’t know. But I am here for you. I’m so proud of you for telling me.”
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do next. I didn’t want to get too far into bonding with Samara’s dad because he needed to connect with his daughter, not with me. I hoped he would have the conversation he needed to have with Samara when she was back. I hugged him again.
“Thanks, Dad. I should get to bed.”
“Good night. I love you,” he responded.
***
When I got back to Samara’s room, she was sitting in the mirror waiting for me. She must have been able to see on my face what had happened.
“You told him,” she said, shaking her head and letting her shoulders fall.
“I’m sorry, Samara, but I know it was the right thing to do.” I said it even though the sinking feeling in my stomach was making me wonder if that was true. Was it the right thing to do? Should I have given her a chance to tell her dad? No, she never would have. I knew that. But she looked so miserable. I felt awful.
“I hate you.” She looked like she meant it. Her eyes were angry, sad, desolate. “We’re not switching back tonight. You started this. You deal with my father in the morning. You deal with whatever comes next. Good night.”
I wanted to step through the mirror after her, to yell at her and hit her and hold her and apologize to her. But she was gone, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have. I curled up in Samara’s bed, alternately angry and sad and confused and frustrated. And as it turned out, I was wrong. I wasn’t out of tears.
chapter 7
How It Should Have Been
Samara
I was so angry at Dee for what she had done. It wasn’t her right or her place to go to my father, to tell him what I had been doing. If anyone was going to have that conversation, it was me, and I knew that I could handle the problem without his help. Or hers. Dee didn’t listen when I told her that I hadn’t thought about it all day. And when I got to her school the next day, all I wanted was to get back at her. At least, I think that was it.
I found Jamie as quickly as I could. “Hi.”
He turned around and looked at me. Nodded to his friends, took my arm, and walked me over to a corner. “Is it you? I can’t tell who’s who anymore.”
“It’s me,” I said. Technically, that wasn’t a lie. “I know what you said to Samara.”
Jamie ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I didn’t mean to say it to her. I meant to say it to you. I can’t believe she told you. I asked her not to. I wanted to tell you myself.” Then he paused. “Wait a minute…you know. Now you know. Even if I didn’t tell you. So? What’s, uh, what are you thinking? What do you think?”
I smiled and tried to look coy. I imagined Dee looking perfectly coy during a conversation like this.
Jamie looked at me strangely. “You don’t seem like yourself, Dee.”
“I don’t feel like myself either. Living on the other side, seeing someone else’s life, it made me appreciate my life. It made me appreciate you.”
Jamie smiled a little bit, and I remembered that Dee’s mom was going to be out that night.
“Mom’s working late tonight. Do you want to come over after school?”
“You’re sure you’re Dee? You seem strange.”
I can’t believe how well he knows me, I thought. Then I caught myself: Dee. How well he knows Dee.
“It’s me, I swear. It was just a really long day yesterday, so I’m a little off. I don’t know, I guess spending a day being someone else can kinda screw with you. I think that’s why…that’s why I could really use some company. I don’t want to be home alone all night.”
The bell rang, and Jamie and I agreed to meet in front of the school at the end of the day.
Kelly seemed to pop up out of nowhere when I left the lunchroom to walk to class, and she took the seat next to me when we got there. She was wearing a miniskirt and an oversized sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was almost longer than
the skirt: it was an impressive look. “So, is something going on with you two?” she asked.
“Oh. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“You and Jamie? Come on, I saw the way you were looking at each other. Having your quiet little conversation…”
I shrugged, but I was glad that someone had noticed. It meant I hadn’t made up that feeling, hadn’t made up the way Jamie was looking at me. Looking at Dee. That reminder was quieter every time I heard it.
***
It was going to be hard being Dee with Jamie for the rest of the afternoon. But we didn’t talk much on the way back to my place, so at least I had time to prepare.
I went into the apartment first, and even though I knew he had been there before, Jamie still waited in the hall until I invited him in.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked as he dropped off his stuff in the living room.
“Water’s fine.”
I brought out two glasses of water and sat on the floor next to him. The shades were open and Jamie was entirely in the sun except for a strip over his chest that was covered by the broken shade that wouldn’t stay up. His eyes were clear. He was completely there with me.
He took a sip of his water, “Mmm, liquidy.” He smiled and I laughed with him. We sat cross-legged facing each other, and I ran my hand lightly back and forth along the bottom of his leg as he jiggled it up and down slowly.
“So, tell me about yesterday. What’s Samara’s life like?”
I shook my head a little bit and leaned back from him. I couldn’t believe that Jamie just assumed Dee would tell him all about me. It made me wonder whether any of our conversations had been private. Was Dee sharing everything with Jamie, this guy I hardly knew? Who else was she telling? How many people knew the intimate details of my life? I had trusted her. I had shown her…I wondered if Jamie knew about my mom. About everything that had happened, what I had done to her.
“Oh, it’s…umm, it’s difficult. She doesn’t really have friends or anything. It’s kind of sad.”
“Sad? Wow. That’s not how you usually talk about her.”
How would Dee usually talk about me? I never imagined her talking about me at all. I never talk about her. I don’t share her secrets with people. I don’t talk about her. What would she say when she talked about me? This whole conversation was already making me feel a little light-headed.
“Well it was, umm, you know…It was sad for me. Sad for me to see. You know what I mean.” I had to end this conversation; I had to get out of this. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
I got up and walked into the bathroom, shaking slightly and being sure not to look at the mirror. I wasn’t letting Dee through. She wasn’t going to ruin this. She had ruined my life; I deserved this at least. I was the one who would have to deal with my father, not her, and now she would have to deal with Jamie.
And the fact that Dee had told Jamie enough about me and my personal life to make him assume that she would just spill her guts about my day, about me, about the things that happened to me, well, that certainly wasn’t helping. But Jamie…he was so, he just seemed so…good and sweet. And caring. It wasn’t wrong of him to ask; it was wrong of her to say.
I stood in the bathroom for a few minutes and then flushed the toilet. I hoped I would be better at being Dee when I got back.
I sat down next to Jamie again. “Sorry about that. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about my alter ego quite yet. Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay,” he said, pushing my hair back from my face. “Anything is okay.” He ran his hand along my cheek.
“Listen, Jamie,” I tried to sound like Dee. “I don’t know if, I mean, tonight might not be the night to…” I trailed off.
“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. I…” Jamie started to lean in. “I really care about you.” He kissed me. Softly, just for a second.
“Here, hold this,” he said and handed me his glass of water. I smiled.
“Wha…” but I trailed off as he put one hand on each side of my face and pulled me close. This time he kissed me harder, longer. He had to know it was me; he had to.
I pushed away a pang of guilt. With everything I was going to have to deal with at home, didn’t I deserve this? Didn’t I deserve this just once? I didn’t plan it to happen the way it did.
Down went the glass of water, most of it down my shirt and the rest onto Jamie’s pants. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. Oh no! All over you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Then he smiled. “I handed it to you because I thought you wouldn’t spill it. I would’ve too.”
“Sorry,” I said and bit my lip, starting to lean in again.
Jamie looked at me. “Listen I don’t mean to be, umm, but I’m all wet. Do you have pajama pants or something I can change into?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. Of course.” I leaned back for a moment and then stood up. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes. Come on, I’ll find something in my room. I’m sure there’s something you’ll fit into.” Though he was a lot taller than me and definitely broader.
Jamie followed me to Dee’s room. I opened her closet and then turned around and looked at Jamie. “What if, instead…” I went over and kissed him. Jamie ran his hands up and down my back, then under the back of my shirt and forward over my stomach. I put my arms up, and he pulled my shirt over my head. I ran my hands over his chest, down over his abs, and began to unbutton his pants. I slid them down.
The way Jamie was touching me, the way he looked at me…I felt like a virgin again. This was how it should have been the first time. Not forced, not manipulated into it. This was how it was supposed to be. I felt Jamie start walking me backward slowly, carefully. I sat down and felt Jamie turn me onto the bed. His hand slid to my back, and he unhooked my bra. It felt so right having him there lying next to me.
He rolled backward for a second and looked at me, first into my eyes, then down my body. “Your body…” Jamie ran his hands over my arms, Dee’s arms, Dee’s body. “It’s so perfect.” He pulled a sheet over us and rolled back toward me, pulling me into him. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Look.”
“What?” I asked.
“We’re naked together.”
I smiled at him, pulled my arm out, looked into his eyes, and stroked his cheek with my index finger. “I know.”
He leaned in and kissed me again, holding me against him. He kissed my lips, my cheek, my neck, and then paused for a second and whispered, “Do you want to make love?”
“Yes.”
“This will be your first time, won’t it? It’s okay to say—”
I cut him off. “I know. I said yes.”
And we did. I’d never made love before. With tenderness and care and knowing that he would be there after it happened. Knowing that if I had said no, he would have still wrapped his arms around me just the same way. And held me and looked at me, and…
***
Afterward, as Jamie rolled me over and put his arms around me, he pulled me close and whispered to me, “This right here, this is the best part.” His left arm under my head, he clasped my right hand in his, intertwining our fingers.
“I’m happy,” I said to him. And it was true.
I heard the front door close.
“Lorna? Sweetheart, are you home?”
“Oh shit! She wasn’t supposed to be home for hours!” I said to him.
Jamie’s eyes widened.
“Go!” I hissed.
Jamie got up and started hopping around the room, pulling his wet jeans back on and then his socks. I knew it wasn’t funny, that I should have been helping, but I laughed. He looked ridiculous hopping around my room with one sock on.
“Coming, Mom. Just finishing up a…a paper and don’t want to lose my train of thought. J
ust a minute.”
“I’m starting dinner,” she called.
I threw the window open as Jamie pulled his shirt over his head. “Take the fire escape,” I said.
With one leg out the window, Jamie turned back to me. “Come here.”
I walked over. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into him, kissing me hard. “That was amazing. You,” he kissed me, “are,” again, “incredible.”
And out the window he went.
I closed the window and walked toward the kitchen on wobbly legs. He was right: that was amazing. It was…better than amazing.
“Hi, Mom. You’re home early. Good day?”
chapter 8
Step Back and Try Again
Dee
It was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it? I knew her dad had to know. That was the only way she would get the help she needed.
I wanted to do something for Samara that she would have trouble doing herself. Samara might be good with boys, but I’m good with girls. I wanted to win her friends back. Win Eva back at least…she had already said I had nice hair. And the rest of the group would follow if she did.
I wanted school to become a place Samara enjoyed, where she went to see her friends. I mean, I spent a lot of my day thinking about Samara, but I still had friends at school. I like school. I always have. And I felt like Samara was missing that.
I spent the whole next morning in school psyching myself up for sitting with Eva at lunch. I didn’t think she and Samara were friends, but she was the only person who had even spoken to me, spoken to Samara the previous day, and I knew I had to start somewhere.
I went to the bathroom before lunch, hoping in vain that Samara would be there, that she would have some advice for me, even if she wasn’t ready to switch back. But she wasn’t. I took a deep breath and walked into the lunchroom. It took me a minute to find Eva’s table.
“Hi, Eva. Hi, everyone. Umm, can I join you?”
There was a pause for what felt like an hour and a half, even though it was probably only a few seconds until Eva piped up. “Of course. Tommy, scoot down.”