I felt tears build behind my eyes and my chest caved in as grief and sorrow flooded into me. Becca never demanded anything from me and I couldn’t give her five minutes that night. That five minutes could have saved her life. I didn’t have the time or interest and now a young girl was dead in part because of me. I wanted to rewind the past month and give Becca time and my friendship. I never thought about or felt the repercussions from my actions, but Becca changed all that, not only in the way she died, but also in the way I learned she lived.
It had been a month since the memorial service. I had been living life somewhat like a hermit. I made a conscious choice that day before leaving the chapel that my life was going to be different. I couldn’t bring Becca back, but I wasn’t going to let her death be in vain and not learn from it. I thought changing the way I treated people, women especially, would be fairly easy. After all, I knew right from wrong. I knew there were times when I had been horrible to people, but the feeling of guilt in regard to my actions was momentary at best.
The first week back in class was the hardest. I had a lot of offers from girls who wanted to help me through the grieving process. I actually considered the first few. I wanted some relief from the guilt I felt about Becca and what better way to forget then to be crawling all over a cute girl. But I didn’t do it. I realized it was a knee-jerk reaction. It’s how I had coped with the pain and loneliness all my life. The fact was, the coping mechanism I depended on hadn’t worked in a very long time. The girls had become nameless faces. The more notches I added to my bedpost, the more the numbness set in. I barely felt anything at this point.
I was standing at the bar waiting for my drink order. Jason had talked me into meeting him at Charlie’s, a local bar and favorite of Dukies. Looking around, I noticed the usual college crowd of frat boys and sorority girls. At the end of the bar, I saw three guys from my civil law class, Tyler, Cole, and Derek. All of them were arrogant assholes who basically got into Duke because their fathers were either congressmen or judges, along with being Duke Alumni. I knew I was an arrogant asshole too, but I had the grades. I didn’t need my douche bag dad to get me into a top-notch law school.
They were standing around a hot redhead who was seated at the bar. All were pretty drunk, but the girl was more so. I watched as she downed three shots in rapid succession that had been placed in front of her. Cole bent down and whispered something in the girl’s ear. She nodded her head in agreement and pushed away from the bar. Cole and Derek each grabbed one of her arms and walked toward the door as Tyler paid for their drinks. I knew these guys were up to no good.
I followed Tyler as he headed out the door to join Frick and Frack, making sure to stay a few steps behind him so I wouldn’t be noticed. Approaching the car, I saw Cole hovering over the girl, his hand up her skirt and his mouth covering hers as Derek watched.
“Let’s move this party to a private location,” Tyler announced, stopping in front of the other two guys.
Cole’s hand continued to disappear farther up the girl’s skirt.
“Cole, come on. Don’t wear her out. Ty and I want a go at her,” Derek said, popping Cole on the arm.
Cole finally pried his lips away from the girl, shoving her in Derek’s direction. “Here, she’s pretty tasty.”
The girl collapsed into Derek’s arms. “Come on, baby. Don’t pass out on us yet.” Propping her against the car, he grabbed one of her breasts as he kissed her neck. Tyler and Cole stood back laughing and cheering him on.
I looked away briefly and cringed. I wasn’t only disgusted with what was going on in front of me, but with the fact that I had been one of these jerkoffs. I never forced a girl to do anything she didn’t want to do, but I had been a part of convincing a wasted one to relax and go with the flow.
Stepping forward, I slapped Tyler on the back. “Hey dude, what’s going on?” I asked.
“Bradley!” Tyler slurred.
“Brad!” Cole chimed in.
Derek still had his face buried in the girl’s neck.
“Hey man, you wanna join us for a little party?” Tyler asked.
“Yeah, Brad, come on. She’s all ready, willing, and able,” Cole said, as he walked up to me and put his arm around my shoulders.
Shrugging out of his hold, I stepped forward toward the car and pushed Derek off the girl. “Hey, what the fuck, dude?!” he yelled.
Grabbing the girl’s arm, I said, “She’s completely wasted and doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on.” I looked down at her blurry eyes. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Um… Tabitha, I think,” she mumbled as she fell into me.
“This is bullshit. She’s totally into going with us.” Cole stepped in front of me, grabbed my arm, and tugged.
Looking him directly in the eyes, I said, “Get your fucking hand off of me.”
“Brad, get the fuck out of here. She’s ours,” said Derek.
“Fellas relax,” Tyler interrupted.
“No. I’ve spent a ton of cash on this pussy and I want what’s owed to me,” Cole demanded.
“Brad, why don’t you just come with us and you can have your turn with her after we’re done.” A slimy grin crossed Tyler’s face.
“I don’t think you understand. She’s not going with you assholes.”
“When did you become so fucking high and mighty? I remember one night in particular when you had your dick in one chick while your finger was in another,” Derek said.
“I’ve never raped a girl.”
“Wait a second. No one here is talking about rape,” Tyler said, panic in his voice.
Stepping up to Tyler, I got right in his face. “You listen to me. I’m taking this girl home so she can sleep off whatever you slipped in her drink. You and these other two motherfuckers are going to go back to your place. Whether you jerk off to your collection of porn or suck each other’s dicks, I don’t give a fuck. All I know is she won’t be getting any of you douche bags off tonight. If you get in my way, I have Jessica, your longtime girlfriend on speed dial. I’m sure she’d be devastated to know her boyfriend is cheating on her. She’d probably call her daddy, the senator, who in turn would call your daddy, the judge. You wouldn’t want all these daddies to know what a low-life slime you were, now would you? It would be quite the black mark on your legal career.”
Tyler and I stared at each other for several seconds. I knew he didn’t want to look like a pussy in front of these guys, but I also knew he needed Jessica and her father’s contacts to achieve the career he wanted.
He took one step back. “Let her go, guys. She’s not worth it.” Cole started to protest, but Tyler’s pointed look shut him up.
I grabbed Tabitha by the arm and led her back to my car. Once in the passenger’s seat, her head tilted back and she passed out. Rounding the front of the car, I called Jason, told him I wasn’t feeling well and was headed home. I tried several times to wake up Tabitha to ask her for her address with no success. I had no choice but to take her back to my place.
Once there, I carried her up to my condo and laid her on my bed. As I removed her shoes she sat up abruptly, latched on to the waistband of my jeans, and unzipped them.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“You’re really cute,” she said groggily. “I just want to thank you.”
“That’s okay. You don’t need to thank me.” I removed her hands from my crotch and placed them in her lap. She looked up at me confused for a second before falling back on the bed and passing out again.
As I stared at her, a sinking feeling took over my stomach. I knew if this had happened a few months ago, I would have let her continue. I would have used this girl just like I used Becca. I wanted to think I was better than Tyler and those dickheads, but deep down I wasn’t. I was just as slimy as they were. I pulled the comforter over Tabitha, headed into the living room, and wondered if a person could truly learn from his past, leave it behind him, and change for the future.
; The chapel was at near full capacity. It made me curious because the Becca I had known was really shy and kept to herself for the most part. I wondered just how many of these people actually knew her or were they just sympathy leeches. A lot of leeches attended my mom’s funeral. People who acted as if they had just lost their best friend when in reality, they couldn’t have cared less. From the moment my mom got sick, no one bothered with us. None of her family or so-called friends ever came by or called to check on her. When she died, a mixture of leeches came out of the woodwork. Family members stopped by hoping to inherit some priceless heirloom while female “friends” stopped by sniffing around my dad, the grieving widower. It was disgusting. Dad and I were the only two people who honestly loved my mom and were devastated by her death.
When I heard Becca had committed suicide I was shocked, but not that surprised. The shock was from the timing of it, but the fact that she died by her own hands seemed inevitable to me. She and I were roommates at Clemson until she had to drop out midway through our senior year due to her depression. I had seen her fall into some extremely dark moods during our time at school. She’d pull herself out of them eventually, but never completely. We kept in touch through the occasional phone calls as well as emails. Once she felt able to handle the pressures of school again, she decided a fresh start was needed, so she transferred to Duke. The last email I received from her was four days before she killed herself. Her words sounded happy. She really liked her classes and had been working with special needs children. She even mentioned that she had met a guy. They had been together for a little over a month and she was deeply in love with him.
Glancing at the first few pews in the chapel, I tried to figure out which guy was Becca’s boyfriend, but everyone wore the same expressionless face except for her parents. It was heartbreaking to look at them. The deep ache of loss radiated off of them. I wondered if they knew this day was coming. That it was just a matter of time before she succeeded in completely disappearing. Becca had attempted to kill herself before while we were living together. I had come back from class in the middle of the day and she was asleep. I gathered my books and headed to the library to study. An hour later, I arrived back at our room and she was still in the exact same position sleeping. I called her name a few times and nudged her, but she didn’t respond. Finally, I noticed a half empty bottle of pills on her nightstand. She was rushed to the hospital and had her stomach pumped.
I was so pissed off at her for what she had done. She knew I’d be the one to find her and how much agony this would cause her parents. She had a mom and dad who would do anything to help her, but she didn’t think about the effect her death would have on them. I’d give anything to have two parents who loved and adored me as much as Becca’s parents did her. I wanted to be here for Mr. and Mrs. Hyams, and Wake Forrest was only an hour and half drive from Duke, so I came.
After the service, I stayed seated, waiting for the crowd of condolences to thin out. Neutral face after neutral face gave the obligatory “I’m so sorry for your loss” to the family. Just before I made my way to them, I saw him. Well, I saw the side of a chiseled jaw, speckled with stubble. Even though I didn’t fully see his face, I could tell his expression was different than the others. There was true sorrow and regret in it. I thought he must have been Becca’s boyfriend, but as I watched him approach and speak with her parents, it was obvious they were all strangers. I would have thought that even if they hadn’t met before today, certainly they would have met before the service. I watched him interact with the Hyamses for a few seconds. Something about him held me there. He was a complete stranger, but the urge to go over, wrap my arms around him, and give comfort was undeniable. I reached back to grab my purse. By the time I turned around, he was already gone.
I was immediately blinded by the fluorescent lighting above, as my eyes fluttered open and frantically darted around the sterile room. The rest of my body remained frozen in the bed. I was confused, having no idea where I was, how I arrived, or why I was here. Just then the door swung open. A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and dressed in scrubs entered. He didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if he knew I was awake. I watched him flip through some papers and then look up at the machine that was beeping with my heart rate. He returned looking down at the papers in his hands as he approached my bedside. The beeping got faster with each step he took until finally he looked up and saw me looking back at him.
“Well, hello. I’m Dr. Burnett.” He showed me a slight smile before glancing back at the papers.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“You’re in the ER at Wake Forrest Baptist Medical Center.”
“Why?” I tried to remember the events from earlier in the day, but kept drawing a blank.
An entire month had already passed since Becca’s memorial service, and memories of her and my mom continued to plague me. I knew attending the service had the potential of being a major trigger for me, but I felt I could handle it and keep my emotions under control. I did okay initially, but then images flooded back, first in my dreams and then during the day. I’d find myself spacing out a lot in class. My mind wasted no time placing me back in my mom’s room staring at her lifeless body. Then fast forwarding to see Becca lying in almost the same position in her bed. I’d been fighting the urge to self-harm. I knew if I kept banging my head that eventually I would cause permanent damage. I started digging and scratching my nails into my upper thighs, thinking that it was less dangerous. It worked for a little while, but didn’t numb me to the pain the same way head banging did. But I knew if I banged my head only a time or two, I would slide right back into the behavior. So I fought the urge as long as possible until this week when I fell off the wagon.
The reason was nothing out of the ordinary. I was at a bar, met a guy, got drunk, screwed said guy, felt empty, went home, let the loneliness consume me, and gave in to the urge. I’d banged my head and scratched myself every day this week without even one trigger causing it. I craved the adrenaline rush that I got when my head made contact or my nails scraped across my flesh. Relief washed over me every time I saw blood rise to the surface of my skin or in that millisecond when my head bounced forward after pounding it against a solid surface.
“Ms. Darnell, are you in a relationship?” the doctor asked.
“What?”
“Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Have you been the victim of a recent attack?”
“No. Why are you asking me these questions and why am I in the ER?” My tone was a mixture of panic and anger.
“You were brought in by your roommate,” he said.
“Why did Alexis bring me in?”
“She found you unconscious on the floor of your bathroom. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I didn’t eat today. My blood sugar probably just dropped and I passed out.” I shifted my eyes to look just over his shoulder instead of directly at him.
“You have scratches on both upper thighs, extending from the knee all the way up to the very top of your leg. You also have multiple abrasions along with bumps and bruises on the back of your head. This didn’t happen because you skipped a few meals. If someone did this to you, you can tell me. It would be strictly confidential.”
“No one did anything to me.”
He hesitated for a moment, cleared his throat, and asked, “Mabry, do you hurt yourself?”
Chuckling slightly, I answered, “That would be insane. Why on earth would anyone physically hurt themselves?”
“Different reasons. Some people do it because the physical pain is easier to deal with than the mental or emotional pain. Some people do it to numb themselves. Some people think it’s no big deal. After all, they control when and how they hurt themselves. But the natural endorphins that the brain releases when you inflict pain on yourself is addicting. Soon you have to cut or embed sharp objects deeper, burn your skin longer, or slam your head back harder to achieve the
rush. You could end up causing permanent damage or worse.”
Looking into his warms eyes I could tell he knew that he had discovered my secret. “Are you keeping me here for any reason?”
“You have a mild concussion, but since you don’t live alone, I feel okay with discharging you.” Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “Take this. It’s the name and number of a counselor who’s there to listen.”
I glanced at the card and then back up at him. “Can I go now?”
“Sure, I’ll go sign your discharge papers.”
As I watched the door close behind him, panic and shame overtook me. I knew he legally couldn’t tell anyone, but the fact that someone knew my secret was mortifying. I knew there was a possibility of brain damage, but I was always careful not to let things go too far, except for a few times. I read the name and phone number on the card before I began flipping it through my fingers. I didn’t believe talking to this person would do any good. No amount of counseling would erase the pain of my past. It was buried in me too deeply.
It’s been a month since Mabry and I had our romantic weekend at Middleton Place Gardens. Opening up to me about her mother’s suicide and the way her father basically checked out was extremely difficult for her. When she allowed me to see her pain, I knew she had let me into her heart completely. Since then, I’ve shared more with her about my upbringing and how my parents left me to raise myself. Mabry wasn’t surprised. She picked up on how my family was from the first day she started at the firm. My parents are able to fool a lot of the people most of the time. They appear as warm and caring people who still respect each other even after years of being divorced. They are just as cold and calculating now as they’ve always been. Mabry saw right through their act.
Past Imperfect Page 11