Skin Deep

by Pamela Sparkman

  I had arrived at the restaurant where we had planned to meet and waited outside for a while. At some point, I went inside and sat at the bar, looking up every time the door opened. I waited for over two hours.

  Later, I’d learned that he asked me out to make his girlfriend jealous, a girlfriend I didn’t know he had. Another guy who sometimes came into the diner with him was there alone about a week later. When I came to take his order he’d said, “Hey, you’re the girl Jack went out with, right?” Hearing his name brought back the horrible feelings of being stood up and I frowned at the guy. “Yes, I’m the girl he went out with, then scheduled a second date with, and then didn’t show up. Lucky me.”

  The guy shook his head and looked around conspiratorially, leaning toward me, and said, “Jack is a jackASS, honey. I’m pretty sure his date with you was a ploy to make his girlfriend jealous. She’s figured out he’s a jackass too and had kicked him out of their apartment. Better she’s back to dealing with his bullshit than you, sweetheart.” The guy sat back up, winked at me, and told me he’d like a bowl of chili with a grilled cheese and a Dr. Pepper.

  I walked away realizing that Jack had used me, like a chess piece in a game, and then discarded me when I was no longer needed. I thought he liked me. I was stupid to believe that. Why couldn’t I see the truth in anyone, including myself?

  In my teen years I had braces, wore glasses, and while some people called me curvy, others called me fat. They didn’t say it to my face, though. No, the things people said about me were said behind my back by the people I trusted the most, and that’s what hurt the most, to believe you are a friend, you’re important to someone, and then realize you were wrong. You expect people, like bullies, to say hurtful things about you. You never expect to hear it coming from someone you thought was your best friend. After that, I’d made the decision never to trust anyone, least of all my own judgment.

  “Your papers are due Monday,” Ms. Sutters said when the bell rang. “No exceptions!” she reiterated as everyone hurriedly exited the classroom ready to begin their weekend.

  I wasn’t in a hurry. There was no point in rushing home to an empty house, so I chose to take my time gathering my books together before making my way out into the crowded halls of Cedarwood High.

  “Excellent work on your rough draft, Beth,” Ms. Sutters said while she organized stacks of papers before putting them in her bag. “It was obvious you did your research.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Sutters.” I casually waved to her. “See you Monday.” I trekked down to my locker. It was all the way across town. Okay, not really. It just felt like it. Seriously, though, my locker was on the opposite end of the school from where most of my classes were, so by the time I got to my locker most of the kids had already left.

  “Yo, Beth! What are you still doing here?” Adam Sanderford yelled out.

  I had moved here in the sixth grade and Adam was one of the first people to talk to me. I also had to sit beside him in Mr. Murry’s, Ms. Simone’s, and Ms. Spencer’s classes that year so we got to know each other pretty well. He was also funny, and easy to talk to. I think some people thought there was something more between us than friendship, but there wasn’t. Well, I take that back. We weren’t just friends; he was my best friend.

  “I’m heading out,” I answered, giving a nod in the direction of my locker. “As soon as I grab my math book.”

  “You still haven’t been to your locker yet?”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault I got assigned a locker in another zip code.”

  “I told you to put your books in my locker. Why won’t you take me up on my offer?”

  I shrugged. “You know I’m not gonna do that, Adam. There wouldn’t be enough room for your books and mine. Besides, I’m gonna go out the back and walk the railroad tracks home today”

  “Adam, man, you coming or what?” Steve, Adam’s friend, asked, coming up behind him looking irritated.

  Adam didn’t answer him. He got that look on his face he always got whenever I wouldn’t do something he wanted me to do. His eyes would get all squinty. I thought it made him look cute instead of the look he was going for, which I think was frustration. I smiled at him and said, “Don’t keep your buddies waiting. I gotta go, anyway.” I turned and started walking again, calling over my shoulder, “See ya later, Adam.”

  “See ya, Beth.”

  After finally making it to my locker to grab my math book, I realized I’d left my jacket in Ms. Sutter’s classroom, and since I was walking home, I knew I would need it. I was halfway back to her class when I heard voices around the corner.

  “Come on, man, you’re always spending time around her. Don’t tell me you’re just friends. Hey, it’s okay if you like her. Just admit it.”

  I stopped walking and didn’t take another step.

  Adam laughed. And I did too…quietly. I didn’t want them to know I could hear them and was listening. Like I said, people had been speculating about us forever. This was nothing new.

  “Beth has a pretty face, but she has too much junk in the trunk for my taste. If she wasn’t fat, I probably would have asked her out a long time ago, but nah man, we’re just friends. I can’t be seen dating some fat chick.” Adam laughed again. “Come on, let’s get going.”

  Their voices faded away, and I stood there, frozen to that spot, until I felt too sick to stand. And then I sat.

  In that hallway…in that exact spot…in that exact moment, a little piece of me died.

  Adam had been my friend since the sixth grade. My friend. Hearing him say that about me didn’t break my heart. It broke my soul.

  I was being judged and valued based on my appearance alone; by someone I thought liked me for me. I was wrong. So wrong.

  I went home from school that day in tears. It was the day that everything changed and I stopped letting people get close to me. It was also the first time I made myself throw up.

  That was ten years ago and it still affects me like it happened yesterday.

  Seeing Jack and remembering Adam suddenly made me feel worthless again, like I wasn’t good enough for anyone.

  I forgot that Hayden was sitting beside me and suddenly the ice cream in my hand tasted like wet dirt. I could feel the bile rise in my throat, and my first instinct was to find the bathroom. I was right back to fighting the demons in my head. The ones who taunted me with their whispering words.

  Purge.

  Purge.

  Purge.

  Hayden

  Beth’s nails were digging into her skin. She stared blankly out her window after we dropped Annie off at home. She hadn’t said much after we sat on the park bench and ate ice cream together. Annie had been chattering away, but Beth had checked out. I wanted to say something, ask her what was wrong. I didn’t though. I knew what was wrong. Her demons were back. I could almost hear them if I listened close enough.

  She’d snapped out of it long enough to hug Annie goodbye, promising her she would see her again. She had her smile on, the one that covers up the truth to everyone but me. I asked if she wanted to come meet Molly, Annie’s mom, hoping that maybe engaging in conversation would get her out of her own head.

  “Maybe next time,” she said, and stayed in the truck while I walked Annie to her door.

  She’d been this way ever since.

  I didn’t drive her home. I drove her to Joe’s bar. I had sent him a quick text asking him if he was there and if we could stop by and told him what I needed. He was closed on Sundays, but luckily he had been there working in the stockroom.

  We pulled into the parking lot and sat there for a minute or two. She hadn’t even noticed that we were no longer moving. That’s when I knew she had gone so far deep inside her own head that I wondered if I could reach her. She had noticeable marks on her arms now where she’d dug her nails into her skin. An ache in my chest expanded slowly like someone blowing up a balloon. I breathed out of my nose, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

  It didn’t work.r />
  “Beth.”

  When she didn’t answer, I said it again. “Beth.”

  She blinked and noted her surroundings with confusion. “What are we doing here?”

  “Look at me.”

  She didn’t.

  “Please,” I begged.

  Slowly, she brought her eyes up, and I held her stare. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Me neither.”

  We sat, not speaking for another minute or two, and I began to feel like I was teetering again. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  She nodded and unfastened her seatbelt. I waited for her to open her door before I opened mine. When she made it to the front of the truck, I took her hand and led her inside. There was no one there, other than Joe, who was in the back. I sat her down at one of the tables and then went to fix her a glass of water.

  When I returned, she asked, “Why did you bring me here? Isn’t the bar closed on Sundays?”

  “Did you know that I was classically trained on the piano?” I said.

  She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. “You’re an ocean of secrets.”

  “It’s not a secret. I just don’t go around talking about it. It reminds me of what I left behind.”

  She studied me…a ‘v’ forming in that space between her eyebrows. She held her water glass with both hands, rotating it in slow circles while she contemplated me. I leaned all the way back in my chair, letting her get a full view. Then she pushed the glass out of the way and leaned forward.

  “I have a difficult time reconciling your fancy upbringing to the man you are now,” she said. “You drive pickup trucks and motorcycles, you wear boots and leather jackets, you prefer beer, yet you were raised to drink champagne. A classically trained pianist, who would rather hang out in a bar. A complete contradiction from the man you are and the one you were raised to be. How did that happen?”

  I paused momentarily, and then I answered her. “Those things you mentioned…those are the things money can buy you. They don’t make the man. My parents can’t carry their fancy cars and fancy clothes with them to the grave. Their cars will be sitting in their driveway. Their clothes will be neatly tucked away in their closets. And when you strip my parents’ bare what will they have to show for their lives? Two children. One they turned their backs on and one who turned his back on them. So…nothing. They have nothing.” I leaned forward, mimicking her. “They can have their lifestyle. I’d rather have my life.”

  She slowly sat back in her chair. The corners of her mouth began to rise casually. “I like your answer.”

  “Good. It’s the only one I have.”

  Beth continued her contemplation, and I continued to let her, for a time, until I was ready to get back to the purpose of bringing her here.

  I pointed to the piano on stage and said, “I lost the desire to play for a long time.”

  “I can understand that,” she said, running her fingers over the cracks on the table.

  “I have a desire to play now, though. For you.”

  Her eyes drifted up to meet mine. “I would love to hear you play.”

  “The thing is…I wrote a song. I started writing it after Christmas. The music part of it anyway. I started writing the words after…”

  “After what?”

  I cleared my throat, and focused on the marks on Beth’s arms. “After I kissed you in the rain.”

  “I thought you said that kiss was a mistake.”

  “No. I said I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Because I worried that I had scared you even further away from me. A mistake would be if I had never kissed you at all.”

  A faint gasp escaped Beth’s lips. She blinked and then studied her hands.

  “I finished writing the words last night,” I said. “Anyway…” I stood and made my way to the piano and took a seat on the bench. I placed my fingers on the keys. The music…I wrote it to feel like if you were sitting all alone in a room, with walls so thick they were nearly impenetrable, that it felt like the sound of the notes were trying to break through, begging to be heard.

  I played the first few notes that blended into the first chord. “It’s called Serenade the Silence,” I told her.

  Whisper to me all the fears inside

  Uncover the sins you wish you could hide

  Let me taste the words you wish to tell

  Let me comfort you and the demons that dwell

  Inside your soul let me hear you breathe out the ache

  I can’t lose you now or else I will break

  I’ll kick back those voices that bring you grief

  I’ll be your angel, I’ll bring you relief

  The fury, the pain, let it all go without violence

  And I will simply serenade the silence

  Tell me your secrets, big and small

  Capture them with your heart and bear it all

  Lay it all out, lay it all on me

  Don’t be afraid to let me see

  So tell me your secrets big and small

  and I’ll capture them in my heart and bear it all

  I will fight for you; breathe for you, live for you

  Don’t let the tide take you beneath its blue

  All the fury and pain let it all go without violence

  And I will be with you as I serenade the silence

  Let me serenade the silence

  I played the final note and sat there, waiting. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. I guess I wanted the song to have time to permeate her heart. I didn’t know. I was winging it as I went and was nervous as hell.

  Eventually, Beth stood, making no attempt to move – either towards me or away from me. I stood too, both of us facing each other. When her shoulders began to tremble, I quickly made my way to her and held her in my arms. I could feel her holding all of her emotions inside. My lips brushed against her ear.

  “Let it go, Beth. Let it all go.”

  And she did. I held her in my arms while she cried, her walls crumbling.

  Finally.

  “Who hurt you, sweetheart? Tell me.”

  “Everyone,” she sobbed. “Everyone.”

  The lights dimmed, and the faint sounds of music surrounded the room. I glanced up and saw Joe leaning against the doorway that led to the back room, arms folded across his chest. Where I would normally expect a smirk followed by a joke, he gave me neither. Instead, he wiped at the corner of his eye and closed the door.

  It was then that I realized what song Joe was playing for us.

  ‘Hey Lady’ by Thriving Ivory.

  Beth

  After Hayden and I left the bar we came to my house. When we pulled into my driveway I didn’t have the energy to move, so I stayed inside the truck, staring absently out the window. The song he wrote for me…it was…beautifully heartbreaking… and I’d been trying to find a way to thank him.

  Thank him? Is that what I’m trying to do?

  “Talk to me, Beth,” Hayden said, his voice sounding deep and soothing. “I want to know it all. I want to know every pain, every heartbreak. I want to know your story, every detail, no stone unturned.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose while I let out a sigh. I wish I could communicate telepathically. My mind was screaming… I don’t want to talk about it!

  “I’m begging you. Talk to me, Beth.”

  I could hear the pain behind the words. I stole a glance in his direction. A tortured look of desperation painted his face. My chest tightened. I looked away immediately, not able to bear the hurt in his eyes. I remembered the words he had said to me on my front porch, they echoed inside my head. It was those words that caused the tightening in my chest to increase, like my heart being squeezed inside a fist: “Strangely, I want to tell you all my secrets.”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “I’ll talk.”

  I glanced over once more, unsure of how much to divulge and saw Hayden’s blue
s staring back at me. His eyes touched every part of me and the longer he stared the more it felt like he could tap into my soul. I couldn’t decide if I liked that or not, so I turned my focus on the weeping willow that stood tall in my front yard. I tucked my knees into my chest and folded myself into a makeshift cocoon, trying to make myself small. I rested my head on my knees while zeroing in on the thick canopy of the gracefully draped foliage. I tried to feel as peaceful as the ornamental tree, but it was pointless.

  “When I was nine my parents died,” she began. “Our house caught fire in the middle of the night. It was New Year’s Eve. Mom and Dad had let my sister and I stay up late to watch the ball drop on television.” I smiled fondly, remembering how Dad wanted to set up the tent in the living room for us. “They let us roast marshmallows that night. The fireplace was lit and we had these long roasting sticks Mom had brought out for us. We were going to ‘camp out’ inside. Dad couldn’t find all the poles to the tent so we scrapped that idea. It was the perfect night. Little did I know it would be the last perfect night I would ever have with them.”

  My mom stormed into my room. “Beth, baby, the house is on fire! Wake up! We’ve gotta get out!”

  “Mommy?” Sitting up rubbing my eyes and still half asleep the loud chirruping of the smoke detector finally impacted me and I understood.

  “Come on, baby!” She tucked me into her side and ran with me down the stairs.

  “I’ll get Grace!” Daddy shouted.

  I could feel the heat inside the house from the fire, and it roared like it was angry at us.

  “Mommy, I’m scared.”