Scarred Beautiful

by Michele, Beth

  I grimace without realizing it, my mind racing through all the possibilities but having no answer to her question. “I don’t know. I’d like to but he hasn’t said anything.”

  “Why are you waiting for him? Why don’t you say something?”

  I shrug, feeling uncertain and suddenly very insecure. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Fran.” She gets up and comes to sit beside me. “You’ve got it bad for him. I can see it in your eyes.”

  She puts her arm around me and I lay my head on her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So tell him, sweetie,” she whispers, “so tell him.”

  Maybe I will. What have I got to lose? And therein lies my greatest fear. I could lose the very thing I now want more than anything.

  “I’m off to get a massage. Call me later and let me know how it goes. Let’s hang out tonight when you get back from your trip.” She gives me a hug and prances out the door, stopping just before it closes. “Just tell him, Fran.” She blows me a kiss and then disappears.

  I’m restless as I sit and wait for Matt, standing then sitting down repeatedly like a jack-in-the-box, my hands sweaty, my stomach doing somersaults. I need a distraction. My purse is on the table and I traipse over to it, searching for a piece of gum. When I open up the zippered pocket I see the necklace Mom gave me and smile. Just as I’m about to unclasp it and try it on, there’s a knock on the door and my heart does that funny fluttering thing that happens whenever Matt’s around.

  The second I open the door, everything else disappears and the only thing I see is this amazing guy standing before me. With hair damp from a shower, that adorable dimple, and a light blue t-shirt that makes his eyes dance, he is irresistible.

  “Hey,” I say, overcome with a sudden bout of shyness like we didn’t just have mind-blowing sex less than an hour ago.

  “Hey yourself, beautiful,” he returns, before walking in and embracing me, feathering his lips against mine in a soft brush. “You ready to go?”

  “Hmmm,” I reply, already lost, swept away to another planet, his fresh scent tickling my nose, his presence making me forget everything else.

  “Let me just grab my purse.” I pluck my bag from the table while Matt reaches down to pick up the necklace I dropped on the carpet.

  “Here, you dropped—”

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  He doesn’t respond, but he’s staring at the necklace, moving it around between his fingers, examining it.

  “Matt?”

  When he doesn’t reply this time, I walk closer to try to get his attention.

  “Matt? What’s wrong?” I ask, and when he looks up at me his eyes are glassy, his skin pale. It looks like he’s seen a ghost. “What is it?”

  “Who gave you this?” he asks, and there’s something different, almost accusatory in his tone.

  I gaze down at the necklace and it takes me a second to form an answer, but he doesn’t wait.

  “Who gave you this?” he says again, but this time more firmly, his lips set in a frown.

  “My mother did. It was a gift she had given me for my ninth birthday and when I saw her the other day, she gave it back to me.”

  “I…I…have to go,” he says, his voice hoarse, his eyes looking anywhere but at me.

  “What? Why?”

  Without another word, he drops the necklace on the table before he’s gone, the door banging shut, an unwelcome echo in my ears. My gaze clouds and I rub my forehead in confusion, the need to sit down overpowers me. I reach the bed, grasping the necklace tightly in my hand as if it can provide the answers I need, but realize there’s only one person who can do that, the person who just walked out on me. I start to stand but sit back down quickly, the room beginning to spin, the solid ground I thought I was standing on has shifted, the rug pulled out from underneath me, yet again.

  I can’t believe I just walked out on Fran but I didn’t know what the fuck to do or how to handle the thoughts swimming through my brain, the feeling that I was drowning in them. Rounding the corner from her hotel room, I slump down against the wall, my body sliding to the floor. I can’t slow my breathing and there’s an odd prickling under my skin that just won’t go away. I don’t understand, I keep telling myself over and over. I force my eyes closed, the memories flooding my mind, fresh and raw, like a wound that’s now been re-opened.

  Brad walked out, his face red, his eyes swollen. He told me Mom wanted to see me next and I steeled myself by taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, before I turned the knob and entered her room. She was slumped on the bed and my chest ached at the sight of her sallow skin, her sunken eyes. My mom was still in there and although it didn’t look like her anymore, I could feel her spirit wrap around me, comforting me, even though she was the one who was sick. I took a seat on the chair, pulling it close to the bed so I could be next to her, realizing this could be one of the last moments I might have with her…and I wanted to make it count.

  “Mom,” I began, but she silenced me immediately.

  “Honey,” she said, her breathing labored, “reach into the top drawer for me and pull out the white box.”

  I did as I was told and started to pass it to her, but her thin, frail hand rose to stop me.

  “No, Matty, that’s for you. Open it.” She tried to sit up further in the bed but began wheezing and I leaned in to place another pillow behind her head so she could be as comfortable as possible.

  I took the top off of the box and inside was a small charm, half of a gold heart.

  She squeezed my hand with the little strength she had left, her tired and lifeless eyes meeting my tear-filled ones. “You’re my first-born, Matty. You and I both know that you’ve always had a special place in my heart, a place that’s tucked away, that no one can ever reach. I bought this for you because I want you to remember that. I don’t want you to be tainted and bitter after I’m gone. I don’t want you to be fearful. I want you to be hopeful. I want you to live your life, and someday, even though I won’t be around to see it, you’re going to find a girl who will love you and who you’ll love right back, because you have so much good in you, so much love to give, Matty. Someday you’ll find the other half of your heart.”

  A tear slid down my cheek as I pressed her cold hand to my face. “Mom.”

  I couldn’t look up at her because I was crying and I wanted to be strong for her, so I moved her hand and held it to my chest, grasping the charm tightly.

  “Now,” she whispered, “I don’t expect you to put it on a necklace, I know boys don’t really wear necklaces, but keep it with you as a reminder of your hopeful future.” She hiccupped a breath. “I love you, Matty.”

  I climbed onto the bed, snuggling as close as I could to Mom, knowing it was probably for the last time. “I love you, too, Mom.”

  And I couldn’t help thinking at that moment that the other half of my heart was dying.

  I roughly wipe away the tear escaping down my cheek with the back of my hand and yank the wallet from my pocket. When I open the flap and tip it over, the charm falls into the palm of my hand, the gold heart now dull from time, but the love for my mom stronger than ever.

  With a balled-up fist, I bang on the door to Caleb’s room, pacing the small area in the hallway as I wait.

  The door opens and I walk in without a word to find Caleb shirtless in a pair of jeans, his hair wet from a recent shower.

  “What’s up, man?” he asks, as he slides a polo shirt over his head. “Hey, by the way, thanks for helping my parents out yesterday. Mom rang me this morning and she really appreciated you coming by…and you’re not even listening to a word I’m saying,” he mumbles when he sees me standing in front of the window in a daze.

  I don’t hear his footsteps, only feel the hand that lands on my shoulder a minute later.

  “You okay?” he asks sincerely, dragging me from the inner turmoil, my stomach a chaotic mess.

  “Not really,” I reply, raking a tense hand t
hrough my hair. “Not at all.”

  “Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.” He takes a firm hold of my arm and pulls me down to the sofa, waiting patiently for me to say something.

  I’m not sure where to begin, my brain so muddled with rampant thoughts that there’s no way for my mouth to catch up.

  As if Caleb senses my unease, he once again places a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Start from the beginning.”

  I unclench my sweaty palm, holding up the charm so he can see it. “Remember this?” I ask quietly, shaking my head from side to side, still in disbelief.

  “Of course. I remember the day your mom gave it to you.” He picks up the charm, wiping it on his shirt as if to shine it up for me.

  I huff out a blast of air. “Fran has the same one.”

  He turns his head to me, his brow narrowing. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” I reply, scrubbing a hand over my face. “My head is so fucked up right now I don’t know which end is up.”

  He sits quietly, letting me gather my thoughts together, as if that’s even possible.

  I exhale another hard breath. “Fran and I were together last night and it was fucking amazing,” I murmur, and he cocks his head to the side with a smile. “I went to her room this morning because I was planning on taking her to Long Beach for the day. We were getting ready to leave and I spotted a necklace on the ground.” I squeeze my temples with my fingers to soothe the impending headache. “She has the same one, Caleb, except hers is on a chain. She told me her mom gave it to her for her ninth birthday.”

  “Seriously?” he asks, not waiting for me to reply. “That’s fucking crazy and wild all at once.”

  Resting my elbows on my knees, I drop my head in my hands. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “You don’t know what to make of it?” He lightly knocks me in the head forcing me to look at him. “I know what to make of it. It’s called fate, meant to be, and all that shit.”

  I stare back at him with a pained expression, my chest sore as my heart breaks apart.

  “Oh shit, man.” Caleb’s eyebrows pull together in sympathy and shock. “You’re in love with her.” And there’s no question in his tone.

  I scrub a hand over my face again while rubbing the back of my neck. “Who said anything about love? That’s not possible. It’s been one fucking week.”

  “Really, and who told you that? The love fairy?” He chuckles before he continues, “Dude, there’s no time limit on that shit. My parents got engaged in a month and married four months later, and look at them, they’ve been married more than thirty-five years. You see how they are with one another.” He grins. “I mean, remember Greg Riley and Jill Stevens in high school. They dated for five years before they got married, and guess what? They were married for seven years and then got divorced. I thought I had that with Allison, too, until she ripped my heart out of my chest. She just didn’t feel the same way about me. But when you find it, man, you have to grab it and hold onto it. I see the way Fran looks at you, and I’d stake money on it that she feels the same way. She’s just scared. Peyton told me she’s been through a lot of shit.”

  “Yeah, she has.”

  “What the hell are you doing sitting with me? Go find her and tell her how you feel.”

  “I don’t know how I feel,” I tell him, and it sounds like I’m trying to convince myself more than him, I’m not sure.

  “Bullshit. I think you know exactly how you feel. I think she threw you for a loop and now you don’t know which end is up. And,” he says, lifting his hands in the air to emphasize his point, “now the heart thing.”

  I push myself up off the couch, stuffing the charm in my pocket. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “I hope you’re going to see Fran,” he says, his lips pinched together in frustration.

  “I can’t right now. I need time to think.” I head for the door but look over my shoulder. “Thanks, man. You know after twenty-five years, you’re it for me,” I attempt a joke and he laughs, even though right now I can’t laugh with him.

  “Get out of here and go get your girl. At least one of us can get the girl and walk off into the sunset.”

  I only wish it were that easy.

  It’s been four hours and I haven’t heard a word from Matt since he walked out on me. I’ve left him three voicemails and sent four text messages and he hasn’t responded to any of them. And where am I? In the same place he left me four hours ago. I haven’t moved and I’ve barely breathed. I’m sitting here with this stupid shell clasped tightly in my hand as if it has special powers, as if it can bring him back to me.

  I yank his t-shirt from the drawer and slide it on before curling into a ball under the covers, and that’s when the tears finally come, and they don’t stop. I’ve been waiting for them and wondering what took them so long.

  It feels like someone is twisting a knife in my gut. Without a word, without a touch or even a glance, and with no explanation, he simply left. The look on his face was one of pure terror. Maybe he finally realized how broken I am and how perfect he is and that the two don’t go together. You wouldn’t mix up the original Mona Lisa with the replica. One is beautiful and perfect while the other has a faint crack just behind her eyes and if you look closely enough you can see she’s imperfect, flawed, not good enough.

  The tears are dropping off my cheeks, soaking the pillow and Matt’s shirt, while the hole in my heart has resurfaced, the one I actually thought was finally repaired. I was better off before, trying to forget with meaningless sex. Instead, I created something meaningful and now I just want to fucking forget it.

  I close my eyes and pull the covers over my head trying to block out the hurt that I’ve developed an intimate relationship with over the years. But I’m a glutton for punishment because my cell phone is glued to my side. I’m still hoping to get the call I so desperately long for.

  When my eyes open again, the sun is setting over the horizon and I realize I’ve been asleep for several hours. As soon as I get my bearings, I scramble for my cell phone under the covers only to find there are no missed calls, no voicemail messages, only a single text from Peyton.

  Are you back from Long Beach yet?

  I never left.

  That’s all I type back before my head hits the pillow again.

  For a second, I start to worry that maybe something happened to Matt, but deep down I know he’s okay. He just doesn’t want to see me. Tears that I’ve cried burn my eyes and now new ones are falling, the realization setting in that whatever we had is over…if we ever had anything to begin with. Maybe it was all a figment of my imagination because I wanted so desperately for it to be real.

  It’s amazing how your life can do a complete 180 in seven days. A laugh bubbles up in my throat, but it tastes bitter. Almost a week ago I was terrified to step onto the plane and now I can’t wait to get back on that same plane and get out of here. This was all some made up dream that I manufactured for myself, and I’ll admit it was perfect. Well, up until the end.

  It didn’t make any sense before, but now it’s all falling into place. Why he didn’t want to talk about what we were doing, what we were? Because we were nothing to him…except seven days of fun, with the promise of sex. I don’t know how I could have misjudged him, although Peyton warned me before I left that this is what people do at these things and I ignored her. But it doesn’t matter, I dreamt it all and I’m wide awake now and whatever we had is done and gone. He was just a tiny blip on the screen that is my life. I’ll never make the same mistake again.

  When the tears finally subside, the hurt turns ugly and anger sets in. I feel used, manipulated, and like I’m a really poor judge of character because I truly thought Matt was different. I guess when it comes down to it, it’s not really his fault. I mean, what did I expect? That we’d ride off into the sunset together? Maybe I did.

  My phone dings and my heart soars right along with it. With a shaky hand
I pick it up and nearly drop it, closing my eyes and making a silent wish. When the letters on the text don’t spell out Matt’s name, my heart breaks all over again.

  It takes me a second to figure out who it is because I clearly can’t distinguish my head from my ass right now.

  I’m on my way back to the hotel. Are you up for getting together tonight? Ryan

  Ryan. That’s the last thing I need right now. But then I feel the festering anger wrestling with the hurt inside my chest, overpowering it by a landslide. So, I text Ryan back.

  Sure. I’ll meet you at 8 in the bar.

  Fuck it. Matt is now just one more thing on my list of things to forget.

  I’ve been driving around aimlessly for hours with no direction in sight and it feels oddly reminiscent of my life. I think back to this morning, the look on Fran’s face just before I walked out the door and I don’t even know who I was walking away from—her or myself.

  I’m such an asshole. She’s been calling and texting me all day and I haven’t responded, not once, mostly because I don’t know what to say.

  My mind is filled with images raining down on me like a thunderstorm, complete with lightning. Fran is that little spark of lightning. A bolt, a spontaneous flash that stormed into my life and shook me to the core…and now I’m drenched in her. That dimple on her right cheek when she smiles, that tiny crease in her forehead when she’s confused, the way the green in her eyes reminds me of a summer’s day, her curves that I can now map with my eyes closed.

  But most of all, her spirit, filled with hope and beauty, and light.

  My sunshine.

  Even now my heart squeezes tight just thinking about her, needing to see her, touch her, taste her, breathe her in. Is that love? I’m embarrassed to say that I’m thirty-three years old and I don’t have a fucking answer. I’ve been with plenty of women, but no one has come close to what Fran makes me feel.