by Ashley Beale
Finally the bruising has faded enough that concealer will hide what remains. I look more myself than I have all week. If anything I look skinnier, which wasn't planned- I assume the amount of alcohol I've been consuming has a lot to do with that. It helped though, with my mind that is. It loosened me up, relaxed me, made me question every aspect of my life, and what is worth risks and what is not.
When it all boils down to the cold, hard facts, well... I like where I am in life. What happened last week was merely a hindrance. An obstacle to get through. I'm ready to look past it the best I can. I've been through worse, far worse. Nothing will ever compare to walking in my parent’s bedroom, blood splattered everywhere. The echoes of the bullets being shot still scare me in my sleep. So when it comes down to it, being roughed around by a man- well, the lack of one that is- is nothing in comparison to my life at only eight years old.
I became who I am, what I am, by my past. Foster parents who hit me more than once, or the ones that would go days without giving me more than mere scrapes of food. The clothes I wore with holes in them to school four days in a row because no one would do the laundry for me, or wouldn't give me access to do it myself. The drugs I had tried and hated, the men I slept with that didn't call the next day. The one person I thought I loved, the same one who ripped my heart out by sleeping with my supposedly best friend, at the ripe age of fifteen.
My life up until three years ago sucked. In fact, I can't think of an adequate word to describe the way my teen years went. What I do now, getting paid to entertain men, is what I live for. Because feelings aren't had, lines aren't crossed, and I'm never going to be subjected to wearing clothes from Goodwill again. My life is far from perfect, I came to terms with that a while back, but it's perfect for me.
Therefore, last night when I was purging into the toilet, I remembered why I stopped drinking more than a cocktail or glass of wine in a single night. I remembered why I hated drugs and other things that altered my body and thought process. I remembered that I was strong, independent, and that I enjoyed what I did more days than not.
So today I stand before myself in the mirror, completely rid from any clothing and undergarments. My hair is done, my makeup on just right, and I examine the remainder of myself. Happy... content... with what I see. People pay money for my body, sometimes hundreds, sometimes thousands. I should feel like a million dollars each and every day for this reason alone. Then to look into my closet and drawers, my car, throughout my entire condo.
Twelve years ago, when I curled up to the side of my stilled, bloodied mother, I never imagined that I'd turn out quite like I have. I thought I was destined to be doomed for eternity- in fact, I didn't even know if I wanted to live this long.
How could a child live without her parents, I used to think. It was a tragedy, a heartbreaking reality. I met at least a hundred other children who were orphans- some by poor chance like myself, others because their parents gave them up. I never knew which one was the worse of the two. Some turned out to be lawyers and doctors, others became foster parents themselves, too many became addicted to any and everything, a handful killed themselves, and the remainder... well, I couldn't even tell you. All I know is that we all took what happened in our past and allowed it to form us, either for the better or worse.
Although my choice of profession is frowned upon by many... despite what happened last week with Mr. Belvidere... beyond the fact I have hardly any friends, no children, and no family that cared enough about me to take me in... I think I took a turn for the better.
Reaching into the closet, I take out a mini black skirt, a red blouse, and reach into my drawers for matching black bra and underwear. Tonight, I'm taking Hillarie's advice. Even though I don't want to like Everett, I have to admit that I enjoy his friendship- or at least what was beginning to be one. I still have my rules, I'm still not allowing myself to fall for him, but I agree that it's nice to have him as a friend. So I get dressed, probably perfecting myself far more than I should.
Red lipstick line my plump lips, a squirt of perfume has me smelling like a swirl of vanilla and Jasmine, and my black Louie Vuitton’s make me three inches taller. I look myself over once more in the full length mirror, this time fully dressed. Maybe a bit over the top, definitely more than a let's be friends attire, but confident and beautiful are a definite.
Grabbing my purse as I head out the door, I lock up and go straight towards the elevator.
When I'm down on the first floor, I feel something inside my stomach willing me to walk away from this. Warning me that things are going to get complicated if I listen to Hillarie, if I apologize and make up with Everett... If I tell him I do want to be friends again... If I give him details to the story Hillarie helped me perfect. My life is going to crack open, it's going to get mixed up.
Maybe I could go to the store first. Make it look like I'm not dressed up for him. After all, I certainly do not look like I just walked out of my apartment, I look like I'm ready for a date. For work. For anything other than friends.
I'm really starting to regret this.
With a sigh, I head for the front door. I realize as I walk outside that Everett's truck isn't here anyway. Looking down at my phone, it's only four. He must still be at work. I forgot that real people have real day jobs. I get into the car and head for the store to pick up some groceries, calling Kandy on the way for a distraction. I don't need much, since I didn't exactly eat a whole lot this past week.
I'm not at the store long, and when I return it sits there- his lifted white pickup truck. It makes me want to know where he is from, what he likes to do for fun besides go to random concerts, listen to country music, and fish. I'm curious if he is all about country living, and how he likes living on a beach. I hate that I want to know so much about him, I hate even more that it's not easy to ask him these things- not because we haven't established each other as friends, but for the reason that I can't have him asking things about me in return.
It's my own fault, and maybe in time I can be more honest with him. As of right now, it's hard, which makes me take my precious time getting out of the car. I'm able to bring all my groceries up in one load, and when I'm back down stairs, my nerves become more so than they were before.
I keep my shoulders straight, my head held high, and with confidence I walk towards his place. My fist stands still in front of the door for a few seconds before I finally give myself the courage to knock. My ego stands on thin ice, wanting to walk away- not wanting to apologize, or make up a story to Everett, or to make anything right. Then it deflates altogether when no one answers.
I try to knock once more but when I'm left standing here for several agonizing minutes alone, I decide that he must not be ready to forgive and forget. Not wanting to be alone in my big home, feeling small and useless, I decide to go get fresh air out back.
The air is humid today, but there is a delicate breeze in which I love about the shore. I sit on a bench, since I'm not exactly in the right kind of clothing to plop down on the beach. Crossing my ankles, I look around, watching people mindlessly enjoying themselves, as they do more days than not around here. Then I see a smiling pregnant woman, laughing and joking, splashing around the in the water. Something about her is appealing- even a bit familiar. Eyeing her, I envy the confidence she has. The ability to carelessly play around in the ocean, her pregnant belly curved between her bikini pieces, an addicting smile that somehow makes you want to be happy, too.
Until you see who is causing her to smile and laugh the way she is... Everett.
My heart fills with ache, ripping through my chest, throwing itself down to the ground. It then bee lines for the concrete wall behind me, ready to annihilate its entirety.
And maybe, just maybe, I'm being a bit melodramatic about the whole ordeal. However, I hadn't quite realized how much it would pain me to see Everett with someone else. Someone he obviously has an insane love for, you can see it in the way he grins back at her. No wonder he hasn't tried to make things right with me.
Even with the aching pain, I sit and watch the two of them. This is what I need, I tell myself. A reminder that Everett isn't for me... dating, relationships, future babies- that part of life isn't anything that my future holds. It can't and it won't. So to watch as Everett passes her a towel when she gets out from the water lets me know that everything is right in the world. They obviously belong together, and I never had a chance. Not even for a second.
When he said he wanted to be strictly friends, I see now that he truly meant it.
Then what about when he held your hand? My mind starts to argue. That was only so we didn't get separated after the concert. I have to remind myself.
My ridiculous mockery within myself almost gets me caught. I realize that both Everett and his lady are heading this way to go inside. Quickly, I make a break for it. Before I make it three steps, my shoe slides across the sanded tar causing my legs to separate- I envision I probably look something like Bambi on the ice for the first time. I catch myself seconds before face planting, not without feeling a searing hot pain against my knee as it hits the asphalt.
"Dammit," I hiss out, taking an intake of breath between my teeth. Turning my body, I sit on the ground to examine damage done.
There is far worse damage done to my ego when I hear, "Are you okay?"
Looking up, I realize that Everett saw the whole thing unfold. His girlfriend holds a hand over her mouth, attempting to cover a laugh. "Yup," I answer bitterly.
He reaches for my hand but I don't take it. It isn't easy to stand in my choice of clothes, but I manage to do so, attempting to look as casual as can be. I have to wipe sand from my legs and ass, while straightening out my skirt. When I'm finished, I stand with my head held high once more.
"I was wondering how things were going," he continues like nothing just happened. "I wanted to stop in and see you, but I didn't think you'd want the company."
Eyeing his girlfriend for a quick moment, I say, "It appears you've been busy anyways. I'm fine. I've been fine." When I hear Hillarie’s voice telling me that I need to ease up a bit, that I need the friends, that I need to stop pushing people away, I decide to add in... "But thanks for asking."
It seems to trigger something in him but he doesn't say as much.
He can't anyways, because his pregnant girlfriend- maybe it's his wife- peeps up. "Hi. I'm Emily, you must be Brenna." She steps up next to Everett, smiling way too kindly.
"I am. Nice to meet you." I probably could smile too, but I choose not to. Something about her doesn't make me feel envious anymore, instead I feel... bitter. "Well, I should head in," I tell Everett. Hurrying, I try to think of any excuse as to why I need to rush back inside. "Snuggles needs her litter box changed."
I have a feeling my face is a bit pink from my lame excuse but I don't give any other signs I'm embarrassed.
I can tell he tries to hold back a laugh, but he doesn't comment on the topic. Thankfully. "Well, um..." He pauses, glancing over at Emily before looking to me once more. "Want to join us for dinner tonight?"
It shocks me that he'd even ask. Apparently he didn't have any feelings for me at all. I'm honestly disappointed in myself for assuming he did- and even more so for enjoying the idea of it all. Either way, now that I've confidently convinced myself that how I've lived my life, and the lack of future I want with any other person, is enough for me, I decide that maybe I should simply apologize for the last week and cut ties.
"Listen, I honestly want to say I'm sorry about last week. I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I had when you were simply trying to help me. Looking back at how I reacted, I realize I was entirely out of line. You were being neighborly and concerned, and I do appreciate it. I can’t make it tonight, but I do hope you have a nice dinner tonight with your..."
Before I can say anything, she corrects my assumption. "Sister. I'm his sister."
"Your sister." I nod my head, trying once again not to feel embarrassed. Apparently that's all I can do for myself. "Enjoy dinner with you sister. I need to head in to Snuggles."
"To change her litter box?" Everett asks with a shit eating grin. This time I know my face is pink- it heats up in an instant.
"Among other things."
He chuckles under his breath. "I'll see you around then."
"It was nice meeting you," Emily says. "I've heard a lot about you, I've been wondering when I could put a face to the name."
Everett's eyes get big- the same time my stomach does a flip. Something it most certainly shouldn't be doing. I play it off, the best I can. "Oh, well, yeah, you too."
"Oh, you've heard about me?" She asks innocently, but when I realize that I haven't in fact heard anything about her, I know that I have to tell the truth, which in return is only going to bring on more embarrassment. I couldn't possibly have failed this entire thing anymore than I have up to this point.
Eyeing Everett, I know he is waiting for me to admit the truth. I hate him for it. Looking to Emily once more, I shake my head. "No," I tell her. "He actually hasn't mentioned much about his family. I assumed he didn't have much. Are you from around here?"
She slaps his arm. "You didn't tell her about your favorite sister? What the hell!" I can tell she's being playful, and once again I'm a little envious of her.
He peeks down at her, the side of his mouth lifted in an adorable way. "You're my only sister." He looks over at me, perking up a brow. "Thanks for getting me in trouble."
Shrugging my shoulder, I make sure to tell him, "Your fault. Not mine."
He eyes me some more but doesn't say anything more, probably because Emily continues to speak. "His only sister that is carrying his only nephew. We don't have much for family, but we do have each other. Do you have any siblings?"
"No, I don't."
"That must have gotten awful lonely." She pouts her lip- sad for me. Not what I need.
"I had brothers and sisters growing up, they just weren't my siblings." The moment it all comes out of my mouth I realize that I revealed something about my past I hardly ever bring up unless to Kandy or Hillarie. I don't like to tell people I grew up in foster care. I ran away before I was eighteen, which could actually get me in trouble for one. For two, I don't want anyone digging around in my past. Then again, I don't see Emily doing much digging. Everett on the other hand, possibly. Maybe if I give him hints here and there, he'll back off from digging into situations he doesn't want to know about.
"That... doesn't make sense," Emily notes.
"Foster care," I admit. It almost pains me to admit. "I was in foster care for almost a decade. I had plenty of brothers and sisters in those years, but none of them were biological, and none of them I speak with anymore. Therefore, no siblings."
They're both silenced for a second, then Emily smiles, as if nothing were wrong. "I've always wanted a sister. Someone that doesn't shove a frog down your bathing suit when you're at the lake, or doesn't put ants in your sandwich during a picnic that you tried to make perfect, or that doesn't cut off one of your pigtails the day before school pictures." She glares at Everett, as he looks away from her, whistling silently. "Boys suck." As she rubs her tummy, she looks down and says, "You'll be different though, won't you Buggah? You won't do all those cruel things. You'll be a special Momma's boy that is innocent and perfect."
Everett snorts. "Don't teach him to be a pussy-ass."
"What?" She looks up in horror. "Why would you say that?"
"You're going to raise that kid to be shoved up your ass. He needs to be climbing trees and playing swords with sticks."
"He'll poke an eye out!"
"Okay, Mom." He gives her a pointed stare. "Good thing I won't be around much, I'd teach him how boys are meant to be."
She then swallows audibly, getting frustrated with something that was meant to be funny. I feel a little awkward, but for some reason I can't look away from their wreckage. "Why are you being mean?"
"I'm not being mean. I'm simply stating that the kid doesn't need to be a Momma'
s boy, he needs to rough house it and play in dirt, cut snakes in half, learn to shoot a BB gun. All those kinds of things, not bake cookies and watch Lifetime movies."
"You're being mean." Apparently that is all she can come up with. I have no say in the matter, I don't want to inform someone on how to raise a kid, because I know damn well I couldn't do it if my life depended on it.
Everett shakes his head, "No I'm not. Anyways." Looking at me, he perks up once more and again, I feel awkward. "Since we didn't get to do our fishing trip, and it's been over a week, want to do something... say this weekend?"
On the phone with Kandy earlier she mentioned that Winston wanted to schedule something for Friday night, due to having to cancel on him this past week, and that she had a new client for me for Saturday to take to a benefit dinner. "Sunday afternoon, I guess."
Emily snorts out a laugh. "You're just pissing everyone off, aren't you?" She storms off past both of us, leaving me questioned by what just happened.
Everett runs his hands over his face in frustration.
"What was that about?" I ask- unsure if I want to actually know.
"Pregnancy hormones."
"I don't get it."
"Well, when you get pregnant, the hormones in your-"
"I get that part," I interrupt. "I meant, why did she assume you pissed me off?"
His gray eyes look me over for a second, his expression hard to read. "You sounded like the idea of hanging out with me was preposterous when you mentioned Sunday. Maybe she took it as I upset you... again."
I'm not even sure what to say...
"I didn't mean to sound like that. I have plans this weekend, I was trying to think of which day would work better."
"So you want to hang out with me?" I almost hate that he looks so hopeful.
"Well it's not that I want to necessarily, it's that..."
"Don't do me any favors." Suddenly his voice goes from smooth and sweet, to irritated and upset. I realize a moment too late that what I said came out wrong.
"I didn't mean it like that," I try to hurry and say.