Unworthy

by Cassia Brightmore

  "Brant couldn't make it?" her mom asked, looking at the empty spot beside Maisie.

  "Um, no. He had to work late tonight. They've just started on a new site and he wants to make sure they get off to a good start." The lie rolled easily off her tongue and Maisie's stomach recoiled in disgust at how easily she was able to deceive her family. Her intentions were pure, if they knew the truth about her relationship with Brant, they'd never understand why she stayed. But the truth was, she knew she deserved what she got from him. He was only treating her the way she should be treated. If she didn't make so many mistakes or push him so far past the breaking point, he wouldn't have to haul her back across the line. The last thing she wanted was to admit her shame to her family, they'd try to drag her back home and that would be a defeat that she'd never recover from.

  Maisie excused herself to warm the apple pie and grab the ice cream from the freezer for their dessert. Bending over to pull the freezer door at the bottom of the fridge took some effort and she wrapped her arm around her mid-section in an attempt to ward off the pain. When she stood and turned, she came face to face with her mother. Caroline took the ice cream from her in silence and then drew her close for a comforting, yet loose hug.

  She buried her face in her mom's neck and just inhaled. Nothing offered more solace than feeling that connection. Of everyone, she was closest to her mom, they had an unbreakable bond that had formed almost instantly that day in the courtroom all those years before. Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she held the sobs that threatened to break free inside. The last thing she wanted to do was raise any alarms.

  "I love you, Maisie. You father loves you, your sister loves you. You're the light that came into our lives at just the right moment. I often wonder if I would have found the strength to carry on if you hadn't been brought to us. I love your dad and Blake as you know, but the loss that I suffered, as a mother, it broke something inside me. When our son was stillborn, I felt like I lost part of my heart. I so desperately wanted another child. I needed to have one. It's hard to explain, but I knew, if I didn't have another child in my arms, my life would never hold the same value. When you came along, it was like a blessing. I just knew, right away, you were meant to be ours. I know you've suffered, and my heart breaks for you over that everyday. I wish like hell I'd been able to save you from those horrible memories." She drew back and took Maisie's face in her hands, wiping away the tears.

  "But you don't have to suffer now. You are such a beautiful girl, with so much to offer. Don't discount the gifts that you have to offer this world. You are worth so much, and I just wish I could help you see that. Don't settle for less because you think its what you deserve. If you could only see how special you are, then so many doors would open for you. When you're ready to talk to me about whatever is going on, you know I'll be here. You have always been, and will always be, our daughter, Maisie." She kissed her cheek and then draped an arm around her shoulders, leading her back to the dining room. "Now let's get your father that pie before he shouts the walls down," she teased.

  Later, on her drive back home, Maisie played over her mom's words. She knew about their stillborn baby, of course, but it still always broke her heart to hear the story. On some level, she knew her mom was right, that she didn't deserve the life she was living with Brant, but the darker parts of her argued that she should be punished for being that bad little girl that no one could ever love. If only she could be the strong woman that her mom spoke of. Instead, she was an imposter. A stranger living in her own skin, one that didn't deserve any good. One that wasn't fit to touch the shoes of her family, much less pretend to be one of them. Conflicted, her emotions were a roller-coaster as she headed back to her own personal hell.

  1993

  "Okay, class, have a good evening and see you tomorrow! Don't forget to bring in your baby photos so that we can get the slideshow prepared for the assembly on Friday," Mrs. Ellis reminded them after the final bell for the day rang.

  Ten-year-old Maisie slumped in her seat before letting out a big sigh and getting to her feet. Their class had been chosen to present a slideshow to the entire school at the end of the week and the topic her teacher had chosen was "Then and Now." Each student was required to bring in baby photos along with a copy of their most recent school photo to be added to the presentation. Sadness and dread filled her the more she thought about it. She didn't have any photos of herself from when she was a baby. The only memories of that time were in her own mind, and she did her best to not think about them.

  Leaving the classroom, she headed down the long corridor to her locker to put her books away and pick up her jacket. Longingly, she watched the other kids grouped together in their little cliques of friendship, smiles and laughter following them down the hall as they all made their way home for the day. Trailing along behind them, she wished fiercely for the courage to try and join in with them. To make the first move at building friendship. Fear of rejection held her back, wrapping its arms around her like steel tentacles, and restraining any bravery she might have summoned.

  Outside, she passed a group of kids from her class throwing a frisbee on the school's front lawn. They looked so happy and carefree, as they dashed back and forth, leaping in the air. When the frisbee suddenly landed at her feet, she scooped it up and timidly approached a boy named David, standing a few feet away.

  "Here you go," she said, smiling. He took it from her and smiled back. "Um," she began, and inhaled a steadying breath. "Do you think I could play with you guys?" she asked, trying to keep the hopefulness from her voice.

  David stared at her and then glanced back at his friends who were eagerly waving for him to get back in the game. "Sorry. We're full already, maybe next time."

  Crestfallen, she nodded and turned away, not wanting him to see the tears that had instantly sprang to her eyes at the rejection. How could she have been so stupid? Of course they wouldn't want her to play, she was nobody and definitely wouldn't have been good enough.

  "Hey, David, who was that?" Maisie heard one of the kids call out.

  "Just that weird girl that doesn't have any friends. Heads up!"

  Hearing David's shouted answer shattered Maisie's heart into a million pieces. The pain from his words was a hard pressure in her chest, clawing up her throat and threatening to escape through her mouth in a pitiful wail. As fast she could, she turned and ran, leaving the school and the words that had broken her behind.

  Arriving home, she went straight upstairs and throwing herself down on her bed, buried her face in her pillow and finally let her sobs free. She cried for her stupidity, she cried for the words spoken about her, she cried for her own broken heart. No matter how hard she tried, she'd never be good enough. Never be accepted by anyone. After some time, there was a soft knock on the door and her mother poked her head in.

  "Maisie? What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked, coming to sit beside her on the bed. Maisie sat up and wiped her snotty nose on her sleeve.

  "N—n—nothing, I'm fine," she answered, a hiccup escaping her. Her mom smoothed her hair back and then drew her forward to put her arm around her shoulders.

  "Talk to me, tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help," she encouraged, pulling a tissue from her sleeve and holding it under her nose for her to blow.

  "I just have a lot of homework and I really wanted to play Nintendo tonight," she lied, not wanting to admit her shame. Her mom sighed and gave her another squeeze.

  "Well, come on downstairs and we'll have a nice hot cup of tea before you get started. Does that sound good? We have a little while before we need to pick up Blake from gymnastics class. Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's really going on?" Her mom was smart; she always knew when Maisie was being less than truthful.

  "I'll come down soon," Maisie promised. Caroline kissed her forehead and then left her alone. Once her mom shut the door, she slid from the bed and crossed to the small white desk that sat under her window. Her room was her favorite place, her sanctuary. Pale
pink painted walls, a white framed twin bed and matching desk finished off the furnishings in her room. Picking up a stack of magazines and a pair of scissors, she climbed back on her bed and sitting cross-legged, flipped through the pages until she found what she needed. Ever so carefully, she cut out several photos of children with brown eyes from infant to toddler.

  When she was finished, she glued them onto white construction paper and then carefully trimmed the edges. She now had four photos that she could hand in to Mrs. Ellis as her baby pictures. Sadness filled her as she looked down at the happy smiling faces of the babies. If only she'd grown up like that, maybe she would have friends at school; friends that would let her play frisbee and walk down the hall with them. Instead, she was on the outside looking in, unable to join in and be a part of any of the group activities.

  She wished she wasn't so afraid to tell her mom about the photos she needed for school, but she didn't want to risk making her sad that they didn't have any of those memories together. This was the best way for everyone. At least her mom wouldn't be worried about her if she didn't know what was going on.

  The next day at school, Maisie handed the doctored photos in to Mrs. Ellis, who thanked her and added them to the pile. Relieved that her plan had worked, she took her seat and pulled out her notebook.

  A few minutes later, what she heard had her freezing in her seat. "Mrs. Ellis, why do you have pictures of the Gap baby on your desk?" April, one of the snottiest girls in her class, asked.

  "What do you mean, April?" Mrs. Ellis asked, starting to sift through the photos. When she came to the stack that Maisie handed in, she stopped and examined them closely. Maisie sunk down in her chair, praying with all her might that the floor would open up and just swallow her whole right then and there. When that didn't happen, she chanced a glance up and found both April and Mrs. Ellis staring at her.

  "Maisie? Did you do this?" Mrs. Ellis asked her, bewildered. There was no way out of it. The entire class had stopped and was now openly staring at her. Shame burned her cheeks as she tried to find her voice.

  "Y–yes, I did, Mrs. Ellis." All she could do was admit her mistake and hope that the punishment wouldn't be too severe. April started laughing uncontrollably.

  "You actually think you're as cute as this model baby?" Her laughter went on and on and soon the whole class joined in. "Fake baby pictures! How lame is that?" April continued.

  "Alright, class, that's enough," Mrs. Ellis ordered and waited for the giggles to die down. "April, take your seat. Maisie, would you please come here?"

  Slowly she rose from her chair and made her way to Mrs. Ellis' desk at the front of the room, each step feeling like she was walking the plank. What would she do? Would it hurt?

  "Can you explain to me why you would turn in photos that aren't you, Maisie?" Mrs. Ellis' voice was kind, but stern.

  "I don't have any baby pictures," she whispered. She raised tear-filled eyes to her teacher. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to be left out of the project," she admitted, wiping away a stray tear. Pity filled Mrs. Ellis' eyes and her expression softened.

  "Alright, well let's talk after class about how you can be involved without adding in any photos. I'm sorry that you don't have anything like this, Maisie, I really am."

  Maisie nodded and then made her way back to her seat, trying to ignore the stares and whispers from her classmates.

  "No pictures as a baby? Didn't her parents love her?"

  "Who turns in fake baby pictures? She's so weird."

  "You know she doesn't have any friends, right? Maybe her parents want to forget they had her."

  Each word was a slice into Maisie's heart, further cementing what she already knew—she'd never be worth anyone's time no matter how much effort she put in.

  Present Day

  The park was unusually quiet for mid-afternoon, but the silence suited Maisie just fine. She made her way to her favorite bench, a slight limp slowing her normal fast-paced gait to a slouching stroll. The pain in her right leg had lessened considerably, but still caused her to have trouble walking. Brant ignored her obvious discomfort, not even offering an apology for the harm he'd inflicted on her.

  It had been two weeks since their altercation that day in the hallway and things had been tense at best. He hadn't lashed out at her again, but he hadn't forgiven her either. Maisie was walking on egg shells, bending over backwards to go out of her way to win any sort of praise from him. She'd cleaned the house from top to bottom, going as far to even wax the hardwood floors until they shone. She'd ironed his shirts, cooked every single favorite meal of his she could think of, made trips to the beer store, even though that was the one job she simply detested. Every time she walked in that store she felt like she was on display, that whatever move she made was being extra scrutinized since she was a female. It got on her nerves, but she still did it without complaint. None of it gained her any ground, though, as he continued on with his stone-cold treatment of her. It was eating her slowly from the inside out, each harshly spoken word from him chipped away another part of her heart.

  From her seat on the park bench, she watched life pass her by. Everyone appeared to be so happy, from the young woman riding her bike, her shoulders swaying back and forth as she mouthed the words to the music blaring from her headphones, to the man lying on his back in the grass reading a book. There didn't seem to be any underlying worries for them at all. She wished she could be more like those people, ones that had no qualms about doing the things that made them happy, without worrying about repercussions.

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed an elderly man walking along the path with a newspaper tucked under his arm. His gray hair stuck out of his hat on the left side and his brown slacks had a tear at the knee. He was fighting with the zipper on his tan jacket, trying and failing to get it zipped. It was warm, but there was a slight chill in the air when the breeze came along. Rising from the bench, Maisie hurried over to his side as fast as she could on her injured leg.

  "Hi, can I help you with that?" she asked, waiting for his reply before taking over.

  "These darned things are so stubborn. I told my wife that button up jackets suit just fine. Does she listen? No. Now I'm stuck with this ridiculous get-up that doesn't even work. Don't ever leave things in an old lady's hands, pet. You buy your own damn jackets and save yourself this kind of trouble," he warned her.

  Maisie giggled. He was simply adorable. "Here. Let me," she insisted, and bending silently, ignoring the twinge of pain in her ribs, took the two ends of his jacket and easily fit them together. She drew the zipper up to just under his chin and then patted his chest, amused when he looked at her in amazement.

  "Well, I'll be damned. It's you women. You've got some kind of magic fingers," he told her, completely serious.

  She smiled. "You got it started for me, couldn't have done it without you."

  "Thank you, pet. This old guy's gotta get on his way now, can't be the last one to the diner for my meet up with the other old fogies. Now listen, don't think that I didn't see you limping over here and trying to hide it. You get that leg seen to, you hear?" he told her sternly. Surprised, she met his eyes. He might have been pushing ninety, but all she saw back in his pale blue eyes was intelligence and compassion.

  "I promise," she whispered, moving aside to let him pass. When he was a few feet away, she snapped a few quick shots of him, managing to capture his strong profile. He really was a kind man, and she was glad she'd taken the time to help him.

  Making her way across the grass, instead of going back to the bench, she hobbled to the swings and sat down on one of the free leather seats. Her camera securely around her neck, she pumped her legs back and forth as much as she could without causing any additional pain, and closed her eyes as the breeze ran over her face and through her hair. Moments like these were ones she cherished. Where she could just enjoy the comfort that solitude sometimes offered. In a way, she supposed she was allowing her heart the space it needed to
heal. Isolation wasn't always the answer and wasn't what she wanted for herself; but once in awhile, it was a necessary evil. The sun was shining beautifully through the tops of the trees and with a little balancing and skill, she was able to capture some stunning images as she was caught in the upward swing.

  Returning home some time later, she turned on the small radio in the kitchen and began preparing dinner for when Brant arrived home that night. She was trying out a new pulled pork recipe, and really hoped that if he liked it enough, he might call a cease fire on his cold treatment of her. She'd be pairing it with twice-baked potatoes and some sweet corn. The trick with pulled pork was all in the sauce and she'd been dying to try out a recipe that Greer had given her several weeks earlier.

  At shortly after six p.m., Maisie had the table set and the food on warmers, ready to plate up after Brant came in and washed up. She'd sampled a tiny piece of the pork and was silently thrilled at how good it'd turned out. A lover of food, when Brant saw all the effort she'd put in to creating something new for him, he'd surely let her off the hook.

  Seven p.m. rolled around and then eight, and still no sign of Brant. All her text messages and calls had gone unanswered. Finally, at ten p.m., she admitted defeat and packed the meal into tupperware before washing up the dishes. Climbing the stairs, she went into the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas. Gazing at herself in the mirror, the sadness reflected there broke her own heart. What had she done that allowed her such little consideration? Would anything she tried to do ever be enough for him? At what point would she finally just give up and admit failure? Brant was the only relationship she'd ever had, if she couldn't make it work with him, what did that say about her as a woman? Was she so undesirable that he truly hated being around her?