Rejected (Imperfectly Perfect Book 2)

by Lym Cruz

  “My parents met when they were young. She was seventeen. An immigrant trying to make it as a dancer and then one thing led to another. Apparently, a year later she got pregnant and it all became too much for her. She decided that it wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. From what I was told, she moved back to Mexico to pursue her dreams. No one has heard from her since.”

  “Don’t you resent or miss her?”

  “You can’t miss what you never had and I don’t remember her. If it wasn’t for the picture in their room, I’d have no idea what she even looked like.” He smiled tightly. “When I was younger, I hated her, not for abandoning me, but for hurting my father.” He winced at the thought. I noticed the subject bothered him more than what he let on. “With the help of Vinnie and my aunt, I was able to let go of the rage I carried. I realized that my anger didn’t solve or change anything.”

  “What if she comes back?”

  He snickered. “I’ve thought about it, even hoped for it once but not anymore. If she did come back, I might not even recognize her.” He moved my hair off my shoulder, grazing his fingertips on my skin. “Let’s get out of here. This house is depressing.”

  We headed out, straight into his car. He switched on the engine and before reversing out of the driveway, he turned on the radio. Stan by Eminem came on and I sang along.

  “You like this?” He asked and turned up the volume while I continued to rap, probably not well.

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sunlight streamed through the window, catching his face. Words left me and I couldn’t remember the lyrics any longer.

  Have you ever seen brown eyes in the sun? As the rays illuminated his face, brown no longer adequately described them. They melted into golden waves, circling an eclipse.

  He leaned back to fasten his seat belt, away from the light, and his irises turned into a sunset. Dark and beautiful.

  With his brows slightly pinched, he asked, “What? Don’t remember the rest of the lyrics?”

  I blinked and gazed straight ahead. “Of course, I do.” The lyrics came back to me. Out of tune, I belted out the chorus.

  We drove for hours along the Pacific Coast Highway, listening to his playlist when one of my favorite songs came on.

  “I listen to this on a loop.” I chuckled. “Such a beautiful song.”

  The lyrics to You and Me by James TW never felt as true as it did at that moment.

  Ezra was humming along and even though we weren’t doing anything special, the serenity made the moment magical.

  “You like love songs?” I asked him.

  “Not specifically. I listen to a variety of genres just not electric. It hurts my brain. What about you, are you a romantic?”

  I was. I’d always dreamed of my happily-ever-after but was too shy to ever admit it aloud. “Nope. I mean I like the songs I just don’t believe in them.”

  “Hmm. Take out your phone, go to your music and tell me what are the first five recently played songs.”

  I took out my phone and scrolled to the music section. I laughed. “This means nothing.”

  “What are they?”

  “First: Beneath the Street Lights and the Moon by PJ Cooper. Second: Summer by Beyoncé. Third: You and Me by James TW and Fourth: Perfect by Ed Sheeran.”

  “You’re a romantic.”

  “Am not!”

  “Okay, name the last movie you watched.”

  My ears heated up, spreading the flames down my neck and cheeks. “I re-watched The Notebook, but this is all coincidental.”

  He smirked. “Last book you read?”

  It was The Air He Breathes by Brittainy C. Cherry but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “It by, the one and only, Stephen King.”

  He scoffed disbelievingly. “Total BS. You want to act all tough but in reality, you’re a softy.”

  “I’m no such thing,” I said, turning up the music and drowning out his words. Ezra simply laughed, shaking his head.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ezra

  Ilooked over at Christina who was pensive, staring ahead. I wished I could read her mind. Her black hair flew in all directions—wild as a jungle, untamable and unruly covering her face.

  On our way back from our little road trip, we made a stop at a beach in Legoland. We sat on the white sand observing a few brave surfers in wetsuits practicing close to the shore. California was ever sunny with clear skies but today a few gray clouds crawled in, overtaking the heavens ominously and the wind speed increased a notch. A cloud floated away and a streak of light peered through the gloom spreading warmth across my neck and down my forearms.

  Last night I looked up her problem online and read about it for hours.

  To seize her attention, I bumped our shoulders and decided to bring it up. Besides, unless she was willing to stand along the highway and hitchhike, she was stuck with me. We were still a good thirty miles away from home.

  “Is it bulimia?”

  Scrunching her nose, she growled. “The day was going so well why are you trying to ruin it, Ezra?”

  She shifted and sat with her legs crossed, fighting to tame her hair into some semblance of order. I did the same and moved so we were sitting face to face.

  “What did you read? That I have some sort of mental illness? That I’m crazy?”

  “I read a lot of things but only you can tell me what’s up?”

  Another gust of wind blew, dispersing her hair over her face again. She combed it with her fingers and brought it over her shoulder.

  “You won’t understand.” Her gaze lowered, and she drew shapes with her fingers on the sand.

  “Try me.”

  She continued drawing and her chest heaved. She remained quiet for a while with her head down and I couldn’t see her face. I decided not to force the issue, if she wasn’t ready to talk about it, we would sit there in silence.

  “It’s a diet,” she said all of a sudden. “I eat as much as I want and so that I don’t get fat, I throw up.”

  “Isn’t it easier for you to follow some sort of healthier diet?”

  “It’s not that easy,” she mumbled. Her voice trembled but she didn’t look up. “I get hungry and crave stuff. When I start eating I—I can’t stop even when I’m not hungry anymore. I eat to a point where I’m sick and filled with self-loathing, self-hatred and I have to get the food out of me. Food makes me feel better and then it makes me feel awful.”

  She was right, it made no sense to me. In the stillness that followed, the sound of the crashing waves seemed unbearably loud. I was thinking of something to say that wouldn’t sound offensive or opinionated when she interrupted my thoughts.

  “I was fat growing up. I got teased a lot and when I lost the weight, I promised myself I would never go back to that size no matter what it took.”

  “Did you lose the weight doing this thing?”

  She used the back of her hand to wipe away a few tears that escaped her eyes, sniffled and lifted her head, nodding. “At first, I starved myself. Then during high school, I saw these girls doing it. I asked them about it and they told me it was a diet. Eat all you want then throw it all out. No weight gain guaranteed. So I started doing it. After years, it took a toll on my body and I ended up in the hospital. After getting help, I stopped and was doing everything right but now ...” She shrugged, lowering her head. Her body trembled with her sobs. “I feel like such a disappointment. I promised everyone that I wouldn’t do it again and ... and ...”

  “I’ve never been through what you have and I can’t judge or fully understand it. Although everything you said sounds pretty confusing, I will never invalidate your feelings or tell you to stop hurting. Every pain has its own lifespan and each trauma is different. How you deal with yours may not be the right way, but it’s how you push through it. All I can say is that if you ever need to talk, I’ll be here to listen. If you ever need me, I’m here.”

  Heat seared through my chest with sadness. The warmth engulfed my e
ntire body causing shallow breaths. I pushed up to my knees and held her by the shoulders to pull her in for a hug. She wrestled with me but I didn’t let her go and ultimately, she gave up the fight, allowing me to bring her to my chest.

  She circled her arms around me, burying her head on the arc of my neck. The tears went through my shirt and wet my skin. Every sob was painful. Every whimper contained so much anguish and I could do nothing to lessen the burden she was carrying. I held on to her as tight as I could and promised to help as long as she let me.

  The first droplet of rain fell and hit my arms. Even so, I couldn’t let go of Christina and the downpour intensified.

  “We should go,” Christina murmured, tearing away from me. “We’ll be soaked in a minute.” She stood, brushed the sand off her jeans and I followed.

  “Dance with me.”

  “Hmm?” Confusion etched on her features.

  The only thing I wanted was to put back a smile on her lips. We couldn’t leave until her mood shifted and dancing, for me, was always an escape. A way to express and expel emotions without words. I offered her my hand. Hesitantly, she took it.

  “There isn’t any music,” she grumbled, “what are we dancing to?”

  “Shh ... Close your eyes, breathe in and listen.”

  “To wha—”

  “Just close your eyes,” I insisted. Pouting, she closed them. “Now breathe in and listen.”

  I took her hand and smoothly led her to sway to the whistle of the wind embraced by the earthy scent of the rain. The longer we moved, I sensed tension leaving her body. A small smile came to her lips and she lifted her face, eyes tightly shut. As the torrent came down faster, her hair became one with her face, wetly draped over her bone structure.

  She looked beautiful and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her—so I did. I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. The rain fell down our faces to where our mouths were fused together. I kissed the cold drops off her lips and flexed my fingers into her skin, dragging her closer. Christina pushed her lips firmer into mine and the upsurge of heat that ran through me was intoxicating and canceled out the world.

  There was no doubt that I was grinning like a love-struck teen. That’s how I’d been since I kissed Christina. I’d never experienced anything like it. Who knew a kiss could be that good. I got off the elevator and wandered into the office, Vinnie and Stacie were already there and I knew Christina wouldn’t be. I sort of missed her.

  She and Frank went to meet with a potential client. He was old fashioned and wanted to meet the people behind the screen before handing over his accounts. I made it to my desk. On top of it, I found a thick, purple book with a note, resting next to my keyboard.

  Read only the pages with the bookmarks. I trust that you will obey.

  —Christina.

  In haste, I sat down and opened up to the first bookmark. The page was handwritten and it seemed like her diary.

  Third day of 8th grade

  “Here comes number 10!” Becky G. said and the class laughed.

  Ten (10) is our new nickname. Becky said that Erica is the one and I am the fat zero. I hate her so much. She makes fun of me every day but she is right, I am obese and ugly.

  Erica only gets teased for hanging around me and I tell her she doesn’t have to, but she says that we’re best friends through thick and thin. She’s the thin, and I’m the thick.

  Our teacher gave Becky a warning and told her that if she teased us (me) any more she would sit for detention. Halfway through the class, Henry pulled on my hair making pig noises. A while later, he told the class it smells because I (the pig) farted and didn’t take a shower because there is no shower in the world big enough to hold me. Mrs. Heemal sent him to the principal’s office and I cried while everyone laughed at me.

  My mother says this is baby-fat and it will go away but it isn’t going anywhere. I am getting fatter by the day.

  I flipped to the second bookmark.

  My diet.

  Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. That’s the biggest lie ever told.

  All the times I was tripped in the hallway, when my hair got pulled and when actual stones were thrown at me, the pain disappeared after a while. But I remember every word said to me. They hurt. They echo in my mind every day and I cry myself to sleep hearing them.

  Since we are now in high school the name-calling escalated. I’m no longer just a pig. I’m a cow, twat, troll, bitch and the list goes on.

  I’ve lost a lot of weight since junior high. I haven’t eaten a single fatty thing in months, I’m living off water and fruits. At times, I feel dizzy and weak, so I drink half a glass of water with sugar. The weight loss is what I wanted but it’s also confusing, I thought the moment I lost the weight I’d feel better but I don’t. Every morning that I wake up and have to live with myself is torment like I’m suffocating. I’m tortured on a daily basis by my peers and by the voices in my head. I imagine the day this will be over but for now, I have to keep going.

  It’s high school, and even though sometimes I want to burst out in tears during class, I pull myself together and get through the day. Only a few more years left.

  Ps - Erica has a boyfriend his name is Ian and if I lose more weight, I might have one too.

  I turned to the next marked page.

  High school is interminable.

  Every day I wake up hoping it’s the last day of school but it never is.

  Somehow, people found out about my diet and now they call me crazy even though I can name half a dozen other girls in our class who do the same. Such hypocrites! I am not crazy! All I want to do is lose weight. Why is that so hard to understand? I can’t wait till high school is over.

  Then I turned to the last bookmark.

  My first time.

  I can’t stop crying. My eyes are puffy and aching. I haven’t gone to school for three days. Each afternoon Erica comes to check on me, but I can’t tell her what really happened.

  Denzel and I were dating in secret (only Erica knew), on Saturday his parents were out and he invited me over. We talked about sex, a lot, he said he’d never done it and wanted to try it with me. I’m seventeen and that’s what people that date are supposed to do, right?

  I agreed to have sex with him and it was so painful. He was rough and said that’s how it’s supposed to be. After he’d finished, I asked him if we were going to tell people at school that we were together and he laughed. He said he never told anyone because he never intended on telling anyone. He said that I was ugly with the ugliest body he’d ever seen. He said I made him sick.

  “You were just target practice, doll, no one in their right mind would want a girlfriend who looks like you. You have those weird lines on your skin. Do yourself and the world a favor by never showing your body to anyone again. You’re sickening.” Those were his exact words I will never forget them. After that he made me wash the sheets, he didn’t want my smell—

  I wanted to turn the page and continue reading but she trusted me with this. I couldn’t betray her trust. I shut the diary and I wanted to find this dickhead Denzel and make him take back every single word. Target practice? Who the fuck says that? I clenched my fists, what a fucking pathetic asshole.

  The rest of the day I was unable to focus on work. I knew Christina wouldn’t be coming in, yet my eyes diverted to the entrance every time there was a movement in the office.

  “She’s not coming, Ezra,” Stacie said, “no matter how many times you look at that door.”

  I sat back in my chair and linked my hands behind my head. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

  “Yeah right.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve noticed the looks the two of you have been exchanging. The little smiles. The not so accidental touches.”

  “Still no idea who or what you’re talking about.”

  “I like the two of you together. You handle her well.”

  “I can hardly say: ‘I handle her’. She’s untamable
and a force of her own.”

  Stacie chuckled. “Thought you didn’t know who I was talking about?”

  “I don’t.” Amused, I shook my head. “Do you think it’s too much if I check in on her?”

  “I don’t think it’s too much, but maybe a text would be better since she’s working.”

  I settled for a text.

  Ezra: How are you?

  Christina: Have you read the diary?

  Ezra: Yes, but only the marked pages.

  Christina: K. Please don’t feel sorry for me.

  Ezra: I’m not.

  Christina: Don’t tell anyone. The last page you read not even Erica knows. I’m trusting you.

  Ezra: I’d never tell. It’s our secret.

  We had a secret. I smiled.

  Christina: Come over to my place tonight and bring my diary. Keep it safe.

  Ezra: I’ll guard it with my life.

  Christina: You better ‘cause your LIFE depends on it!

  Christina: I’ll text you when I’m home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Christina

  Ezra was on his way up. I checked myself in the mirror more times than necessary. When the knock came on the front door, I jumped, startled by the sound even though I was expecting it.

  With sweaty palms and my heart hammering, I went to the door but stopped short; frightful of what I might find on the other side. I showed him a bit of me. The ugly me. And that might have been enough to have scared him away.

  There was a knock again.

  There was only one way to find out what awaited on the other side. I pushed my shoulders back and hauled the door open. Ezra grinned the second he saw me. His smile blew me away and brought the memory of those same lips on mine.