Counting Scars: Six Shoulders To Lean On
By Annie Belethil
© 2014 by Annie Belethil. All rights reserved
Chapter One
At the front of the store, apples were on sale. One by one, Louis picked them up, checking for potential blemishes and flaws. He ran his finger along the body of each apple, trying to get an accurate feel of its texture before pressing down on its sides to check for soft parts.
He methodically worked his way through the large mound of apples, but there were no good ones left–all of them had gone bad. Then, he noticed something strange.
He watched as a middle-aged woman fiercely shoved her way through a large crowd of people, ready to lay claim to half a dozen defective apples. She reached into the carton and grabbed a few of the nearest ones. Louis saw her give the apples a brief spin and a quick nod of approval before stuffing them in her cart.
He couldn’t believe it. They were the same ones he wrote off just minutes ago. Were other people blind, or was he just crazy?
Feelings of jealousy consumed him. He wondered what it would be like if his need for perfection suddenly vanished. No doubt, it would be grand–he could start eating at restaurants alone, initiate conversations with complete strangers, or pursue a new hobby.
As Louis remembered his current, pathetic state, he tossed the last apple back in the carton and let out a heavy sigh. Sadly, he would have to go another week without apples.
With a glum look on his face, Louis walked over to the food aisle, where he stopped to grab a couple packs of meat. He looked at the expiration dates and was glad to see they’d be good for another four days. That’s perfect, he thought.
No sooner had he placed the items inside his shopping cart than his thoughts became foggy. Had he checked the expiration dates for both of the packs or just for one of them? Perhaps, he had confused their dates with some of the other ones he saw in there.
Holding the tip of his forefinger up to his lips, he stood next to the cart, thinking.
This wouldn’t do–he knew he’d have to check the dates again before he could continue. Leaning over the cart, he pulled out the two packs of meat. He checked the labels again and saw that he had worried for no reason at all.
Louis decided he’d had enough shopping for the day.
With a tired body and a throbbing headache, Louis made his way on over to the checkout line. He stood there with his shoulders hunched over and his head slightly tilted. He was mentally preparing for what would follow.
When the cashier looked at him, Louis quickly looked away. By now, panic began to move down his throat and settle in his chest.
The mere thought of pulling out his credit card to complete a simple transaction made his skin crawl. Too much could go wrong in those few short seconds. He might take too long to slide it, or he might lose his concentration and forget what to do.
The unpleasant scowl on the cashier’s face already told him the man was having a bad day. What if his hypothetical mistakes were enough to make him snap? There’d be no way of knowing how bad things could get.
As an infant, Louis saw plenty of smiles. Even for a baby, it was an easy concept to grasp–people smile when they’re happy. Not until many years later did the word take on a new meaning.
Smiling became an ingrained habit, and it was used by his subconscious mind to keep him away from harm’s way.
As the cashier rang up his items, Louis broke into a big smile, but he didn’t know why.
After paying, he was able to calm down a bit. Returning to the complex, he unloaded the groceries from his car. He absolutely hated the fact that his apartment was on the second floor. It was a real pain having to carry all those heavy bags up that many steps, but, somehow, he managed.
Sometimes, a neighbor would offer to help, but he would politely decline. He’d always end up regretting it, though.
Louis trudged up the endless flight of stairs and opened the door to his apartment, dragging the bags inside with him.
He sat down on the living room floor and systematically, began sorting through his groceries.
When he was done putting everything away, he drifted into the kitchen and looked up at the calendar on the wall. There were two events scheduled for the weekend.
One was the shopping trip, and the other one was his younger brother’s birthday party. With a cool grin, he checked off the former with a pen.
“Now I just have to get through this awful party,” he mumbled.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Upon hearing the sound, he froze in terror. Someone was after him. Whoever it was wanted to rob him or murder him–he was sure of it.
Louis was so busy worrying about the worst-case scenarios that he overlooked the more realistic ones. He’d forgotten all about the pushy salesman and the devout Jehovah Witness.
Louis stood completely still, until there was no more knocking. Then, he quietly tiptoed to the door and peeked out to see if the trespasser was gone.
There was no sign of anyone, so he closed the door and tried to forget about the whole occurrence.
Even though it was the middle of July, he tried to distract himself with a hot cup of coffee.
Months ago, he’d invested in his own coffee maker, so he’d no longer have to go to the shops and risk making a fool out of himself in public. Ordering coffee was complicated, and it was by far, one of his biggest fears.
After it finished brewing, he poured the coffee into his mug and set it down on his sturdy nightstand.
Then, Louis crawled into bed with a good adventure book and read, until he fell asleep.
The next morning, he awoke to the unpleasant sound of his alarm clock buzzing. He groaned before rolling over and feeling around for the snooze button.
When his hand finally rested on top of it, he decided not to push down on it. How could he think about going back to sleep now?
He had no choice but to stay up and mentally prepare for the frightening day ahead.
Reluctantly, he moved his hand away from the snooze button and worked his way over to the off button.
Still half-asleep, he sat up in his bed and pulled out his laptop. Opening his browser, he began searching for tips on how to fake confidence at parties.
“I can do this,” he would say, followed by, “What was I thinking? I really can’t do this!”
It was not unusual for his inner child and his inner critic to take part in oppositional dialogue like this. Any positive thought that, somehow, made its way into his mind was met with immediate scorn and cynicism by the harsh critic.
There was a war going on between the two of them, and they were fighting for control over his mind.
By the time eleven thirty came, Louis found himself in a state of panic. His palms were sweating, and his heart was beating outside of its usual rhythm.
The poor fellow didn’t know how he was going to make it through the day.
Sliding out of bed, he went to get ready.
Standing over the bathroom sink, he brushed his teeth and washed his face with a little bit of soap and water.
When he came out, he searched his bedroom closet for an outfit to wear. He was looking for something that would make him look like a regular, normal guy.
For a long time, he couldn’t decide on anything.
He knew matching wasn’t his strong point, but what he came up with was quite impressive–a fresh pair of brown cargo shorts and an immaculate white t-shirt.
He was excited about the prospect of impressing fellow partygoers with his outfit. However, his enthusiasm was short-lived when he realized it was time to go.
Reluctantly, he climbed into his
car and turned on the ignition.
He grabbed onto the steering wheel, his tight grip indicating strong feelings of anger and fear. Why couldn’t they have his party at home like every other year? Deep down, he knew the answer, and it made his stomach churn.
Louis’ parents threw his brother, Travis, a birthday celebration every year, but this was the first time they weren’t having it in their home. Instead, they went through the trouble of booking a kid friendly venue.
From what he heard, it took a lot of planning, and it wasn’t cheap. He’d commend them for their selfless act, but he knew all too well what their real motive was. His parents were only doing this to make themselves look good.
Why else would they send their parish priest an invite?
As always, he saw through their facade. Poor, little Travis must have thought they were doing all of this for him. Someday, he’d know he was just being used in the same way Louis had always been.
To their parents, they were not unique individuals but mere extensions of them. They were brought into this world for one purpose, and it wasn’t for the reason most parents have children–to love them, care for them, and meet their many different needs.
Instead, it was to enhance their own self-images and sustain their inflated egos.
When the guests heard about the party, they were impressed. Many of them began speaking very highly of Louis’ parents, blown away by how well they treated their kids.
They were willing to do anything to make them happy. If only there were more parents like them in the world. Ha! If these people could see what they were like when the curtains were drawn, and the doors were shut, they’d be eating their own words.
Even now, Louis was dreading the party. In a few minutes, agoraphobia was going to kick him in the butt. He had never been to this venue before, and his burdensome mind wouldn’t let him forget that.
Sheer terror overtook him as he began to imagine the party room getting smaller and smaller. He could feel his lungs starting to close, and the possibility of suffocating became a very real cause for concern. Oblivious to the fact that he was physically acting out the scenario in his head, a hoarse cough escaped from his mouth, as he gasped for air.
A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot.
As he slowly inched his car forward, he looked for an empty parking space set far enough away from the other cars. Even though he’d only be in his car for a minute, Louis could not resist the urge to hide.
He drove along, until he noticed several empty parking spaces to his right. Then, pulling into one of them, he parked his vehicle.
This is going to be just terrible!
Stepping out onto the hard pavement beneath him, his brows came together, intensifying the look of worry that already showed on his face.
He walked up to the building and stood outside, trying to get a handle on his nerves. What if he was the first one there and didn’t know anyone inside?
Then, he remembered his phone.
Pulling it out of his pocket, he thought about sending his mom a text to see if she was inside.
No, it will take too long to get a reply. I don’t want to be out here any longer than I have to be. I already look like such a loser standing out here by myself. Oh, I know–I’ll just call.
Louis scrolled down his contact list, until he found her name and tapped on it.
The line on the other end rang and rang before the call was finally sent to voicemail. By now, his panic was through the roof, and he could feel the skin on his neck and back forming tiny droplets of sweat.
When Louis became aware of the fact that he was perspiring, it made the problem a whole lot worse. The more he panicked, the more sweat he produced, and it caused a vicious cycle.
Not knowing what else to do, he tried to air-dry his shirt by tugging on it, repeatedly.
When that didn’t work, he felt like curling up and dying.
What am I going to do?
Louis felt like a little lost child all alone on the street, frightened and exposed. There was no one to protect him from the scary world around him.
He was about to fall apart when he heard a distinct voice coming from the distance. It sounded loud but non-threatening.
“Louis!”
He looked in the direction of the shouting and saw his cousin, Carl, calling out to him from the parking lot. The heavyset man was flailing his big, meaty arms around in the air, trying to get Louis’ attention.
“Over here!”
Oh, man! Everyone’s looking at me!
Louis’ eyes frantically darted all over the place, scanning the faces of those around him. He could feel their eyes on him, and it took everything he had to try and look calm.
Pretending not to hear his cousin, Louis looked away.
When he could feel their stares getting stronger, he swallowed hard and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He didn’t know how much more humiliation and discomfort he could take.
Sheesh, why are they still looking at me?
His inner critic decided now was as good a time as ever to make an unwanted appearance.
That was when the guilt-inducing accusations began.
The tyrannical voice inside his head scolded him for not acknowledging Carl’s greeting and for pretending like he didn’t know him.
That was so rude.
Then, it rebuked him for being ungrateful.
What’s wrong with you? You were just freaking out because you thought no one else was here. Now someone shows up, and you’ve found something else to worry about. You’re just one big, hopeless mess.
Louis was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Carl approaching him, now just a few steps away. The sound of his girlish voice almost made him jump.
“Couldn’t you hear me?” he asked, walking up to him.
“Oh, well, I,” Louis stuttered, “I did think I heard something.”
“You thought you heard something?” Carl repeated his words, looking suspicious.
“Yeah,” Louis replied with a laugh, careful to keep the conversation from getting any more uncomfortable.
“Ha! So, where’s Travis?”
“I don’t know if he’s here yet.”
“You didn’t see him inside?”
“Actually, I haven’t gone in yet,” Louis answered with a warm blush.
“Oh, you just got here, too?” Carl asked matter-of-factly, “He might be inside already.”
Louis nodded–he felt like such an idiot. He had a reason for being out here, but it had nothing to do with when he got there. He knew Carl wouldn’t understand the real reason, so he left it at that.
“Let’s go in and see if he’s here,” Carl suggested.
Louis slipped his phone back into his pocket and, reluctantly, followed him into the restaurant.
Once inside, they noticed a female employee standing directly behind a bright, yellow counter. Her light brown hair was tied up in a big, messy bun, and the lines on her forehead made her look very tired.
For a woman in her mid-thirties, she looked much older than that.
Louis felt sorry for her, but Carl didn’t seem to take any notice of her. He had one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t compassion–he was only here for the food.
Together, they approached the woman.
As they walked towards her, Louis stayed a step or two behind Carl. He didn’t have time to rehearse any lines, and he didn’t know what to say anyway.
This was Carl’s doing, so he’d let him take care of it.
“Hi, can I help you?” she asked them.
“We’re here for my little cousin’s birthday party,” Carl told her.
“What’s your cousin’s name?”
“Travis.”
She typed something into the computer and looked down at the screen for a moment before looking back at him.
“You’re here for Travis’ super seventh birthday bash scheduled for twelve o’clock in the afternoon?”
&
nbsp; “That’s right.”
“His parents have checked in already, so they should be waiting for you at table six,” she said, pointing off to one direction.
By the time they found table six, a lot of the guests were comfortably seated. For the most part, Louis knew or, at least, was able to recognize everyone. The only people he hadn’t seen before were a few of his parents’ friends from church and some of their coworkers.
The table was decorated with flashy blue and green colored birthday ribbons, and there was a yellow balloon tied to each of the guest chairs. When Louis’ mother saw him, she waved at him.
“You made it!” she cried, “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it past the door.”
Louis’ face turned red before he could hide it. He knew she was cruel, but this was too much. What kind of a mother jokes about her child’s mental illness out in a public place like this?
Ever since he was a little boy, he yearned for motherly love and warmth–a kind word or a loving glance from her would have meant the world to him. He’d waited over twenty long years for his mother to change, but now he knew she was not capable of it, nor would she ever be.
When two smiling employees carried out the pizzas, Louis was grateful for the distraction. For the last few minutes, he’d been trying hard to hide his painful feelings behind the empty look on his face.
They helped him forget about the mother he never had–though, they’d probably never know it.
One employee approached his side of the table and set a large pepperoni cheese pizza down in front of him. When he first laid eyes on it, Louis couldn’t help but notice that each of the slices was a different size–some were wider or longer than others.
He couldn’t say why, but this made him very angry. He wanted to fix them, but he couldn’t. Instead, he could only look away, and that was the same as doing nothing.
When the guests were done eating, a different crew brought out a huge birthday cake. It had several dozen, colorful candles lit at the top with Travis’ name written in dark green, buttercream icing beneath them.
Distributing the weight evenly between them, the employees hoisted the cake on their shoulders and gently, set it on the table.
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