Skin Deep

by Pamela Sparkman

  I recall one morning in particular, a morning much like this one, when Hayden had knocked on my door. I had greeted him with a smile, happy to see him. That morning he had come by to surprise me with concert tickets. I had mentioned to him in passing that I loved The Black Keys.

  I thanked him profusely and he had shrugged his shoulders like he hadn’t done anything special. He had, though. It was special to me. We went to that concert and I had had the time of my life, and it wasn’t because I was at The Black Keys concert. It was because I was with Hayden.

  Memories like that snuck up on me and hit me like a freight train, making me wish we hadn’t drifted so far apart. This was my fault. I was the reason we were here, barely able to speak to one another, and I didn’t know how to fix it because the ugliness that I felt, the ugliness that he’d seen…I didn’t know how to get past it. What I do know is that I didn’t want to fight with him today. I sat in the chair, folded my arms on the table, and laid my head down.

  He sat next to me and tapped me on the arm. I lifted my head. “What?”

  “Your coffee. Drink it before it gets cold.”

  “I’ll need cream.”

  “I already put it in there for you. It’s exactly how you like it.”

  He handed the cup to me and I took it. “Thank you,” I said with a softer tone this time. “You didn’t have to do this you know.”

  “I know, and I never do things because I have to. If I’m here it’s because I want to be.”

  “Why?” I asked, bringing the coffee up to my lips.

  “Did you not hear what I said last night, Beth?” Hayden brushed a stray hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. For a minute we both sat there like that – him looking at me, and me looking at him. A swarm of butterflies began to take flight inside my stomach and morphed into hummingbirds, so I did what I always do… I crushed that feeling because I couldn’t afford to want him. Wanting him would lead to needing him, and needing him would lead to loving him. The risk of letting him in was too great, because if he ever left me or hurt me, I wouldn’t survive it. I lived on a very thin sheet of ice. One more crack and I would surely drown.

  I cleared my throat, took another sip from my cup, and made myself focus on something else. There was a centerpiece on the table that I redirected my eyes to. His words from last night were haunting me: ‘…I’m thinking that what I really want to do is leave this restaurant with you and spend the rest of the night finding out how to make you fall in love with me.’

  My chest felt tight, like a fist was squeezing my heart from the inside, and the butterflies and the hummingbirds began another swarm attack.

  And then I felt woozy.

  “Beth? What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t feel well.”

  Hayden put his hand on my forehead. “You feel warm.” He studied my face. “And your cheeks are red.”

  “My throat is sore,” I said, rubbing at my neck.

  “Open your mouth.”

  “What?”

  “Let me see your throat.” He placed his thumb on my chin. “Open.”

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have the strength to argue with him, so I opened my mouth. Hayden lowered his head and peered inside. “Your throat is red.”

  “Perfect,” I said bitterly. I stood, and then wobbled on my feet. The truth, was this was normal for me. Sore throat, weakness…simply put, it was a sign of my illness. Hayden pushed his chair back quickly and placed his big hands on my shoulders, steadying me so I wouldn’t fall.

  “Easy,” he said.

  The next thing I knew I was being lifted off my feet and cradled in Hayden’s arms. “What are you doing?” I screeched, causing my voice to crack and pain to shoot down my throat.

  “Putting you back to bed. Which door is your room?”

  “Last one on the left. I can walk you know. A sore throat does not leave one completely incapacitated.”

  He didn’t say anything else until he laid me down on my bed and drew the covers up over me. “I’ll be right back.”

  I didn’t ask where he was going. I was just glad to be lying horizontal again. I felt like crap. Hayden came back with a glass of water and two pills and helped me sit up. “Here, take these.” After I swallowed the pills and washed them down with the water, he took the glass and set it on my bedside table.

  “What was that?”

  “Tylenol. It was all I could find in your bathroom. I’ll go out and get you something else. I think you may be coming down with something.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” I laid my head on my pillow, pulled the covers up to my chin, and closed my eyes.

  “Where are your keys?”

  Not opening my eyes I answered, “In my purse. Why?”

  I heard shuffling around and then I heard jingling of keys. “I’m going out to get you some medicine. I’m going to lock the door when I leave, and I have your keys to let myself back in. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  I think I mumbled something, but everything was foggy. I dozed off and when I awoke I saw that my curtains were drawn and nighttime had fallen. I sat up slowly. I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep. Leaning over I turned on the lamp, reached for my glasses, and put them on.

  “Feeling better?”

  Startled, I jumped and whipped my head around to find the voice in the dark. Hayden stood immediately, stepping forward so I could see him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Placing my hand over my heart, I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. “Jesus, Hayden.”

  Hayden approached and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. I scooted over to allow him more room, pressing my back against the headboard. “How long have you been here?”

  Hayden peered all around my room. It was as if he wanted to avoid looking at me. He focused on the window and asked, “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little.”

  “You wear glasses.” He kept his eyes on the window when he said it.

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, well, I wear contacts when I go out. You’ve never had a reason to see me without them before.”

  At last, Hayden turned to face me, and then for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t look him in the eye so I mimicked his earlier action and found something else to focus on – my hands. “You, umm…” I cleared my throat, “...you stayed? Why?”

  Hayden said nothing for a long moment. The silence between us only made the tension more palpable. Until he spoke, and then I wished he had stayed silent.

  “Why do you do it, Beth?

  I opened my eyes. “Do what?”

  “Why do you hurt yourself?”

  No no no no no….I can’t talk to him about this. He was never supposed to know. He was never supposed to see.

  I pushed the covers off me, scooted myself across the bed, and stood on the other side. “Thank you for staying and for taking care of me, but you can go now.” I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I felt so exposed. I hugged myself and stared a hole through my bedroom floor.

  Please don’t look at me like I’m a disappointment.

  Hayden stood and faced me. He brought his hands up, running them through his hair and then placing them on his hips. “I’m sorry. I…fuck. I don’t…” Hayden paused and bowed his head. “I made you some soup. Please eat it. I put your breakfast in the fridge. You can heat it up later if you feel like it.” Hayden made his way to the door. I stood rooted in place, silently begging him not to go, yet knowing he should. “I’ll check on you later. Eat, and then get some more rest.” He stood in the doorway, waiting for me to respond. When I didn’t he turned around to walk out.

  “Hayden.” I quickly said.

  He stopped, not turning around. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and then a few seconds later I heard the door close behind him. I listened until the hum of his engine faded off in the distance.

&nb
sp; I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the drawer where I kept my diary. I opened it to the last entry I had written, the day after Christmas this past year. I hadn’t written in it since.

  December 26, 2013

  Dear Diary,

  My lips still tingle from when Hayden pressed his mouth to mine. There, in the middle of all of our friends, Hayden kissed me underneath the mistletoe. For a moment I pretended the kiss was real. That Hayden was kissing me because he wanted to and not because of some silly tradition or rule. For those few seconds, I let myself believe that the look I saw in Hayden’s eyes before he leaned in meant something; because for those precious seconds, they meant something to me. I felt like I grew wings and I could fly. And when those seconds were up and I no longer felt the warmth of his touch, I wished I had the power to rewind time.

  And then reality settled in, and I felt a sense of bereavement, like I was mourning a loss. I wasn’t mourning something I lost, though. I was mourning something I would never have. Hayden.

  Thinking back to that night, before I wrote that entry into my diary, I remembered that when I first got home, I set my keys on the table by the door, hooked my purse on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and proceeded down the hallway, scooping up my hair and wrapping a ponytail holder around it along the way.

  I kneeled in front of the toilet for the next twenty minutes.

  I closed the diary and stared at nothing while I ran thoughts through my head. I don’t know how to be me around him anymore.

  I pulled at my hair in frustration, because I knew that was bullshit. The real truth of it was that I didn’t know how to pretend around him anymore. And that was what pissed me off, because I couldn’t pretend, yet I couldn’t be myself either. I was stuck in an in between and I felt completely defeated.

  Pushing myself to my feet, I went into the kitchen, heated up the breakfast and the soup Hayden brought me, and shoveled it in without tasting any of it. I moved to the pantry, found an unopened bag of cookies, and ate every last one.

  And then I threw it all up.

  Hayden

  I left Beth’s house feeling like my plan to get my friend back was impossible. She had closed herself off to me. I wanted us to find a way to be close to each other again, and I couldn’t stop trying. I wondered, though, if forcing myself into her life would benefit her, or give her another reason to keep harming herself. I didn’t want to cause her more pain. I also didn’t want to desert her either. Whether or not she wanted me in her life, I still wanted her in mine.

  I got halfway back to my place when I realized I still had Beth’s keys in my pocket, and turned my truck around. I let myself in because if she had gone back to sleep I didn’t want to disturb her. I set the keys on her kitchen table where she would see them and started to leave when I heard her in the bathroom.

  She was doing it again.

  I ran down her short hallway and swung the bathroom door open. She was hunched over the toilet heaving everything she had into it. She looked up, frightened at first by my sudden appearance, then defeat settled in her eyes, and tears began falling down her cheeks.

  “Hi,” she said, weakly. “I’m Beth. Welcome to my fucked up world.” Then she slumped onto the floor.

  “Jesus, Beth.” I scooped her up into my arms and sat on the bathroom floor with her. I reached over my head, pulled the towel down, and wiped her sweat and tear stained face.

  “I thought you left,” she mumbled into my chest, her eyes half closed.

  “I’m here now, and I won’t leave you again,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head. We stayed like that for a while…her cradled in my arms and me rocking her to sleep. “Remember last year on Lily’s birthday, I came by the diner to pick you up so we could go to the birthday party together?” Beth didn’t answer, so I continued. “I’ll never forget it. I walked in and when you saw me, you smiled, and grabbed your purse. Then you happened to look over and saw an old man sitting in a booth, crying. You asked me to wait for you and then you slid in beside him, put your hand over his, and laid your head on his shoulder. I sat at the counter and decided I’d return a few emails while I waited. After about fifteen minutes you got up, walked over to me, and said you were ready to go. I waited until we got outside to ask what that was all about and you told me his name was Jim, one of the regulars, and that his wife had died recently. You told me you wanted to comfort him. I asked what you said to him, and you told me you didn’t say anything, you just helped him cry.” I dipped my chin to see if Beth was listening, but she had fallen asleep. While stroking her hair, I said, “I’m gonna help you cry, sweetheart.”

  The next morning I got up and drove back to my place for a shower and to change clothes. After Beth fell asleep in my arms I carried her to bed, and I slept restlessly in the chair beside her. She didn’t say much when she woke up. She didn’t have to. I could see it written on her face. She was a mixed bag of emotions and I didn’t see the point in dredging it all up again this morning. We would have that talk later. Right now, we were going to have some fun. It had warmed up outside and I was going to take advantage of it.

  Back at Beth’s place, I knocked on the door and waited on the front steps. When she answered and saw me standing there I wasn’t a bit surprised to see the shock on her face. She probably thought I wouldn’t be back. I smiled because she was wearing her glasses. I liked them. It made her look like a sexy librarian. All she needed was a bun in her hair. “You’ll need to change,” I said. “Go put on jeans, and boots if you have any.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We’re going for a ride. Hurry up. I’ll meet you out here in ten minutes.”

  “A ride?” She peeked around the door and then said, “I’m not getting on that thing. They’re dangerous.”

  “It’s not a thing, Beth. It’s a motorcycle.”

  “It’s still a thing, and they’re dangerous, Hayden.”

  I took one step closer to her. “The safest place you’ll ever be is with me. That’s a fact. Now go change and let’s go.”

  “Hayden, I–”

  “Nine minutes and counting.” I turned and walked back toward my bike, leaving her standing there with her mouth hanging open. When I reached my bike I said without turning around, “Eight minutes. You either go change or I’ll do it for you.” I grinned and turned so she could see my face. “In fact, I might prefer that option.”

  I started to make my way back to her when she quickly said, “No. Stay there. I’ll – uh, go change.”

  Beth

  I couldn’t believe I was about to let Hayden drive me around on the back of a motorcycle. What was I thinking? Oh right, I wasn’t thinking, because he started to come towards me like he was going to strip me bare and throw me over his shoulder unless I agreed.

  “I can put your keys in here,” Hayden said, taking the keys and placing them in one of the saddlebags.

  For a moment we both stood there, awkward silence falling between us. At least this was something normal we did. We never knew what to say to one another.

  “I brought you a helmet,” Hayden said, breaking the silence, handing me a black helmet. I took it, placed it on my head, and fumbled with the strap trying to figure out how I was supposed to fasten it.

  He reached up and pulled the strap under my chin, placed one hand on top of the helmet, and pushed down, tightening the strap. My skin felt hot everywhere his fingers touched. “How does that feel?”

  “Fine I guess. Is it supposed to feel so tight?”

  He snapped the strap into place and took a step back. “Yes, and you look pretty darn cute right now.”

  I blushed and mumbled, “Thanks.”

  Hayden put on his helmet, and after securing his own strap, he asked, “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?”

  “No.”

  “Well, first of all, don’t be afraid. We’re going to be riding on the back roads, no interstate or crowded highways, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Evidently
I didn’t sound convincing because Hayden considered me with soft eyes. “It’s going to be fine,” he said. “You’ll see. Let’s get on and I’ll go slow to start with, let you get a feel for it.”

  “Okay,” I said again, because apparently that was the only word in my vocabulary at the moment. I breathed in and let it out slowly. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. Perhaps it had less to do with the motorcycle and more to do with the person standing in front of me.

  Hayden straddled the motorcycle, simultaneously pulling the bike upright. Then, he pushed a button on the handlebars, and the engine roared to life. He looked over his right shoulder and motioned for me to get on.

  Once I was on, though, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I yelled over the rumble of the engine, “Do I need to hold onto you to keep from falling off?”

  I could feel Hayden’s laughter vibrate against my chest. Without saying a word, he took hold of my wrists, pulled them around his waist, and placed them crisscross over his stomach. I could feel cords of hard muscle through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and my palms flattened out, like an involuntary reflex. I closed my eyes and concentrated on how it felt to hold Hayden in my arms. And for one minute, I wanted to pretend he was mine to hold.

  I felt the absence of his arms and then heard the throttle of the engine. That’s when I realized he had been holding onto me, too. I allowed myself to smile, one he couldn’t see, but it was more for me anyway. Feeling anything genuine was something I rarely allowed, so it felt nice to come out from behind the invisible glass fortress I lived behind and let my super cape fall to the ground for once.

  Hayden put the bike in gear and edged us toward the street. When he leaned the bike toward the ground, turning right out of my driveway, my body stiffened, and I impulsively fought against the lean. The bike grabbed the pavement and Hayden stopped.