by Leanne Baugh
“You sure you want me? I mean, you know…” If he’s trying to recruit drama students, does he really want to risk my face scaring them away?
Owen looks at me with his no-nonsense face that used to unnerve me. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I had any doubts, Abby. Yes or no.”
“Okay, sure.”
“I want them to meet a few grade twelve students who have been through the full high-school program. You may have to field some of their questions, too.”
“Happy to help out,” I say.
“Haven’t confirmed a date, but I’ll let you know. By the way, looking forward to reading the second draft of your monologue.”
“I hope it’s what you’re looking for.”
“Dig deep down to discover the heart of your story, Abby. Find the heart.”
As I watch Owen leave, I think it’s kind of brave of him asking me to represent his drama department. Grace walks toward me down the hall. I can tell by the look on her face that something is up.
***
At home, curled up on the couch in the family room, tears and snot stream down my face.
“I’m so sorry, Abbs.” Grace sits beside me with her hand on my shoulder. She hands me a Kleenex. “But I thought it was best that you hear it from me.”
“Yeah, way better than hearing it from Briar. I can imagine she’s just dying to tell me.” I wipe my face and blow my nose. Ruby whines beside me—she doesn’t like it when anyone is sad. I pat her head to calm her down.
“Serena needed a date for grad, and Liam just happened to say yes. That’s all.”
“But Liam and I promised we’d go to grad together, no matter what,” I say. Another gut-wrenching sob takes over my body. “I was sure he would keep his word.”
“Maybe he just forgot. It was a long time ago. Besides, it’s not serious with Serena or anything.”
“Come on, Grace, it’s obvious she’s had her eyes on him for a while. I’m sure well before I came back to school.”
“Maybe, but I doubt Liam is interested in anything more than a date for grad.”
I imagine the photos of Liam, all handsome wearing a suit and tie, and Serena, looking her gorgeous self, plastered all over Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat. I blow my nose again. “I totally deluded myself into thinking he was going to take me to grad. What was I thinking? He can barely look at me.”
“He was on that backpacking trip, too, Abby. And he had his own run-in with the bear.”
“I know. I can still hear him screaming.”
“And he was so freaked out after seeing you in the hospital. Totally broken up by how badly you were injured. He kept telling me he was so worried you were going to die. I really thought he was losing it.”
I guess I’ve never thought about it in quite that way before. I’ve been focused on myself and never really thought about how Liam might be dealing with his own trauma with the bear. But why won’t he talk to me about it?
“What about you? Did Dax finally ask you to grad?” I say.
“Yeah, and I said no. Told him that I already had a date, which, of course, I don’t.”
“Oh, but you will soon enough.” I blow my nose again.
“Having my doubts.” Grace gives me a pleading look. “Why don’t we go together, Abbs? We’d have such a blast.”
“I’m sure we would, but no thanks.” I want Grace to have the grad of her dreams—going with a guy, getting a corsage, drinking champagne on the limo ride with six other couples, staying up all night, drinking too much at the after-party, leaving with a different guy.
“Okay, but you’re coming to the bush party with me next weekend.”
“You’re on.” On the day of I’ll tell her I have a terrible headache and can’t go.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I won’t let you bail on me. I’ll drag you out kicking and screaming if I have to.”
Dear, sweet Grace.
“Remember how much fun we had last year?” I say.
“So awesome. Best year of my entire life.”
“Hiking, backpacking, snowboarding…”
“Remember winter camping in Kananaskis?” Grace asks.
“You mean when it snowed like crazy overnight and we had to dig ourselves out of our tents?”
“And instead of snowshoeing, we spent the day building anatomically correct snowmen and women.”
“The boobs on that one snow chick. I’m sure I still have a photo,” I say.
“What about the enormous dick we sculpted on the snow stud? So big we had to prop it up with a tree branch.” Grace and I crack up. The heaviness in my chest eases a bit.
“And remember the igloo Liam, Thomas, and Jarret made?” I say.
“Didn’t we all squish in and sleep in there that night?”
“Yup, we did.”
“Do you think you’ll ever backpack again, Abbs?” Grace asks.
“I hope to one day, when I can build up my courage. You?”
Grace shrugs, gets all quiet. “You know, if my grandma hadn’t been visiting from Ontario, I would have been on that trip with you and Liam.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I keep wondering, if I had been with you guys, maybe…maybe somehow it wouldn’t have happened,” Grace says.
“But it did.”
“Our trips to the mountains are some of my best memories.” Grace looks at the mountain-scape painting hanging above the fireplace. “I don’t know what happened this year. Things changed. For one, you weren’t around, and Sarah, Jarret, and Thomas all moved away. Liam’s pretty much kept to himself. Then I started to hang out with Serena more and more. And we know that the only way to get her outdoors is tanning on a beach in Mazatlán or Maui.”
“True that.”
Grace shakes her head. “Sometimes I don’t like who I am anymore, or who I’m trying so desperately to be. I feel stuck in some weird movie. Can’t take off the costume or the makeup. I wander around the same movie set with the same actors, see the same scenery, and there’s only one script I can read from.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
***
When I arrive in downtown Calgary at the Facing It workshop, Nadine is putting papers and pens on the tables. There are about six other teenagers here, and I recognize some of them from the first meeting. I make a point not to stare this time and smile at them instead. They all smile back. On a big whiteboard at the front of the room is a quote from the book The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry:
It is only with one’s heart that one can see clearly.
What is essential is invisible to the eye.
“Welcome. Abby, is it?”
“Yeah, hi Nadine.” I can’t help but think she would be pretty if she didn’t have that deep purple birthmark covering most of her face. But with her big smile and the way she talks and moves with such confidence, she seems like the perfect person to lead the workshop on self-acceptance. In fact, the more I watch her, the more I’m starting to think she’s quite beautiful.
“Wondered if you’d be here tonight,” Jade says as she sidles up beside me.
“Hey there. Surprised to see you. It didn’t sound like you come to many of these meetings.”
“Who doesn’t need a little self-acceptance shot in the arm once in a while?”
“Can’t argue with that,” I say.
“Still wrestling your bear?”
“Guess you could say that.”
“Could everyone please find a seat and we’ll get started,” Nadine says and moves to the front of the room. Jade and I sit at a table with a guy who has a web of thick scars that runs from his nose to his upper lip. This makes his front teeth stick out a bit.
“Hi, I’m Abby and this is Jade,” I say to him, making sure I don’t stare at the scar. Instead, I look ri
ght in his light-blue eyes.
“James.” Slumped in his chair, he looks bored and uncomfortable—like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Jade bends down and pretends to put something in her purse. “Cleft palate,” she whispers. I’m pretty sure it’s uncool to identify people by their condition, but it seems to be Jade’s thing.
Nadine continues. “You’ll see a questionnaire on the table in front of you that I’d like you to fill out before we begin. This is not like Seventeen or Cosmopolitan, where you add up scores. In this quiz, there are no right or wrong answers. This is for you alone, and you don’t have to share it with anyone unless you want to.”
James twirls his pen and stares at the page, not even reading it.
I start my questionnaire.
Almost never
Occasionally
About half the time
Fairly often
Almost always
When I look in the mirror, I like what I see, flaws and all.
Almost never
When things are going badly for me, I see the difficulties as a part of life that everyone goes through.
About half the time
When I think about my flaws, it tends to make me feel more separate and cut off from the rest of the world.
Almost always
I believe that others would like me more if I looked different.
Fairly often
I’m kind to myself when I’m having a difficult time.
Occasionally Almost never
I try to be understanding and patient toward those aspects of myself I don’t like.
Occasionally Almost never
“Everybody finished?” Nadine asks. Nods around the room. James hasn’t made one mark on the page. “Any insights, feelings, or comments you’d like to share?”
A girl with a clump of dyed black hair hanging over her face says, “Even when I know, without a doubt, that models in beauty magazines are airbrushed and Photoshopped, I still can’t help but compare myself to this ridiculous ideal of what beauty is supposed to look like. I find it so hard to separate my facial disfigurement—I mean facial difference—from the real me.”
“I can’t believe how shitty I treat myself sometimes,” Jade says. Others nod. “These questions kind of put things into perspective for me. I completely ignore the good things about myself. Who I really am deep down inside.”
“Thanks for sharing that, Jade. Any others?”
I chime in. “I know I fixate and obsess on how unattractive I am—especially my face—and how beautiful all my friends are, and if only this hadn’t happened to me, blah blah blah…” I start to choke up. “But I just don’t know how to get out of this trap of self-sabotage, how to change the story going on inside my head.”
“Hear! Hear!” Jade says.
“I can tell you from personal experience that changing that negative story in your head won’t happen overnight,” Nadine says. “And self-acceptance is a lifelong process for most people, facial differences or not. James, anything to add?”
James puts the pen down on the table. “Because of the way I look, I’ve gotten bullied as far back as I can remember. Beaten up, sworn at, spit on. Even pissed on. Twice I’ve tried to off myself. People like us,” he gestures to everyone around the room, “haven’t got a hope in hell of ever truly accepting ourselves because no one out in the world will ever accept us. So I think this little gathering here tonight is fucking bullshit and a total waste of my time.” He stands and storms to the door.
Nadine smiles sadly as James leaves. “I understand where James is coming from all too well I’m afraid. Like many of you, I was born with a facial difference, and, like many of you, I have been bullied at times in my life. It’s always incredibly hurtful and has, at times, totally shattered my self-esteem and self-confidence. But my big life lesson has been that until I truly accept myself with all my flaws, inside and out, how can I expect anyone else to accept me?”
Nadine’s words hit home; I feel terrified and hopeful at the same time.
“Can I add just one thing?” Jade says. “Lately, I’ve started a gratitude journal. Sounds flaky, I know, but every day I try to write down at least one thing I’m grateful for. It’s really helped me get—sorry for being gross—my head out of my ass and see that there’s lots to be thankful for, even with this.” Jade points at the burn scars on her face.
“Great idea, Jade,” Nadine says. “Anyone else write down their thoughts of gratitude?” A few nods around the room. “That’s all for tonight, but I hope to see you all back for part two of this workshop in which we’ll discuss the practice of self-acceptance.”
The energy in the room feels lighter somehow, like more oxygen was pumped into the air. More people are holding their heads up a little higher, looking one another in the eyes. More smiles, more laughter.
Before I leave the room, I take one more look at the quote written on the board.
It is only with one’s heart that one can see clearly.
What is essential is invisible to the eye.
Jade and I chat as we leave the building and walk down the street toward the parking lot.
“Couldn’t help but think tonight that if I’d hurt anyone in my car crash, there wouldn’t be a hope in hell of self-acceptance,” Jade says. “How could anyone carry around that guilt?”
“So you were alone?”
She nods. “After getting shit-faced at a party in Cochrane, I drove my car off the road, rolled, then crashed in the ditch.” She hunts for her keys in her purse. “That’s how the fire started. A hunky firefighter dragged me out of my car before I became a total crispy critter. Guess I’m lucky that only one side of my body got fried.”
“No other cars involved?”
“Nope, thank God, or my license would have been suspended for way more than a year. The judge could have sentenced me to jail for the DUI. I think she took pity on me knowing my life would never be the same. A year without driving wasn’t so bad.”
When we get to Jade’s car she says, “You talked about trying to change the story going on in your head. I can totally relate. For what it’s worth, when I bad-mouth myself, I visualize lassoing all my negative thoughts and rounding them up. And then I imagine letting a stampede of positive thoughts out of an enormous corral.”
“Obviously a Calgary Stampede girl.”
“You got it.” Jade smiles. “All I’m saying, Abby, is if you nip the self-trashing in the bud, change those negative thoughts into something positive about yourself, you might notice life get a little brighter.”
“Makes sense. Thanks.”
“Oh, and check out a Facebook page called ‘Evolve.’ A bit touchy-feely, but it’s a good reminder that all us humans are in this together. See you later.”
Jade gets in her car, starts it, and drives away.
EVOLVING
When I get home from the Facing It meeting, Dad is at the kitchen table, this time with a grin on his face as he types something on his laptop. I text Jeannie.
Well, I nevah! I think pops might be setting up his first online date
No way-ask him!
“What’s up, Dad?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got a funny look on your face.”
Dad looks right at me with that same funny look. “Okay,” he says with a chuckle, “a woman contacted me. Through the dating site.”
“Do tell. Who is she?”
I was right
Ask who she is
I did already
“Her name is Belinda.”
Belinda
What else?
“Tell me more,” I say.
“She’s around my age, she’s an accountant with an oil company, has a daughter.”
Around dad’s age, accountant, has a daughter
Belinda the accountant? Hmm…and…
“And?”
“And that’s all I’m telling you,” Dad says with that same look and closes his laptop.
What’s she look like?
He closed his laptop on me-that’s all I got
Is he at least meeting her?
“Aren’t you going to meet her for the requisite first coffee date?” I ask.
“What are you, the grand inquisitor?”
“Yup.”
So?????
“I’m heading upstairs to finish my book. Have a good sleep, kiddo.”
He won’t tell
Ruby follows me to my room, jumps up on my bed, and curls up. I look at myself closely in the mirror—the scars on my face, my nonexistent left cheek, my crooked mouth. I use a hand mirror to look at the back of my head where my hair has finally grown in enough to cover the scars on my scalp. Something to be thankful for, something to put in a gratitude journal. If I had one. I take off my T-shirt and run my fingers over the thick scars on my chest. I have a flashback of the bear’s gigantic paw swiping at me. I hold my bear figurine tightly in my hand before I get ready for bed.
I open my laptop and check Facebook. Not surprisingly, there’s another message from UR SO FN UGLY: “You’re so ugly that when you look in the mirror your reflection throws up.” I glance up and see my face in my dresser mirror. A tidal wave of negative thoughts and feelings about myself flood my mind: I am so fucking ugly. No wonder Liam can barely look at me. I’m not fit for public viewing. I don’t deserve friends.
I immediately put the brakes on those thoughts and search Facebook for “Evolve.” It’s basically photos with captions or quotes. I get what Jade said about it being touchy-feely. I scroll through several quotes. One really resonates: You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce.
I grab my phone.
“How do I block someone from Messenger?” I ask Siri in a quivery voice.
Siri provides a list of websites. I scroll through, find one, and follow the instructions. Done! No more UR SO FN UGLY. I feel hopeful somehow. Why didn’t I do this sooner? In some warped way, do I think I deserve to be bullied after what I did to Mason?