by Leanne Baugh
“Surgery number five: remove the dead skin graft that didn’t take. Surgery number six: a muscle from my back, the latissimus dorsi, is grafted to the back of my head. Surgery number seven: skin is grafted from my butt and placed on the back of my head. Yes, butthead is an appropriate name for me.” Again, laughs from the audience. “My next surgery, number eight, will involve taking shavings of one of my ribs to build me a new cheekbone. This will kick off a series of even more surgeries.
“Month two in the hospital. After the bandages on my face were unraveled, I begged a nurse for a mirror. She reluctantly handed me one. When I first looked at my reflection, I told her the mirror was shattered, someone must have dropped it.
“This is my shattered face that I look at in the mirror every day—a patchwork of grafted skin and lines where the sutures were sown to hold my face back together. Every day I wish this didn’t happen to me. I wake up each morning hoping it was just some bad dream. I tried to hide myself from the world for months, ashamed of my appearance and the scars on my body. The world outside my home reinforced my shame.
“Many people around the world believe that encounters with wild animals can give humans power, wisdom, and even good luck. I’m not sure about the good luck…” Soft chuckles from the audience. “…but my encounter with the grizzly has given me this: She has taught me that we all have ‘bears’ in our lives—an injury, an emotional scar, a disability, an insecurity, a grievance, an illness, an abuse. Some ‘bears’ are just more visible than others. For the past year, I’ve been running away and hiding from the bear in my life—from the fear, shame, and self-loathing. But I’ve come to understand she is part of me. She is my talisman.
“A wise woman once told me that I need to stop cowering and start dancing with my bear.” I look at Gramz, who is wiping away a tear. “And I have to lead the dance. I can’t let her stomp on my toes, swing me around too fast, or change the dance steps.
“To quote the Nigerian author Ijeoma Umebinyuo, ‘Start now. Start where you are. Start with fear. Start with pain. Start with doubt. Start with hands shaking. Start with voice trembling but start. Start and don’t stop. Start where you are, with what you have. Just...start.’”
I pause, and the audience begins clapping, cheering, and whistling. Grace, Simon, and Olivia jump to their feet for a standing ovation. Dad and Gramz are already standing. I look around for Liam, but he’s gone. Was my monologue too painful for him? I bow and head through the curtains to backstage.
Schultzy is there, waiting for me with her arms wide open. I lean into her round, soft body and sob my heart out.
FACING THE MUSIC
Gramz’s arm is wrapped around me as we walk with Schultzy to the office.
“How did you find me, Schultzy?” I ask.
“When you didn’t show up backstage, I looked all over for you. Wondered if you’d just gone home,” Schultzy says.
A police officer escorts Mason and Dax down the hall to the parking-
lot exit. Through the office window I see Dad, Liam, and Mr. Hardy speaking with a second police officer.
“Liam?” I ask Schultzy. “What’s he doing in there?”
“He is your true rescuer. He came backstage to wish you luck, and you were nowhere to be found. Then he overheard Mason and Dax boasting about what they’d done to you and saw them tossing this around.” Schultzy digs into her sweater pocket and hands me my bear carving. “Apparently, he confronted them and there was quite a scuffle. Mr. Hardy had to break it up.”
So that’s why he left before the end. He needed to talk to the police. I hold the figurine tightly in my hand.
“I’m horrified you had to go through this, Abby, but because things escalated, there are now solid grounds for the police to deal with these boys,” Schultzy says. “I have a strong feeling you haven’t been their only target.”
“What’s going to happen to Mason and Dax?” I ask.
“As you can see, they’ve been arrested. The police will likely charge them with forcible confinement or maybe even kidnapping.”
“That means there will be a trial and I’ll have to testify.”
“Maybe,” Schultzy says, “but that’s a long way off. They’ll likely be held at a corrections facility for quite some time.”
Through the office window, I see Liam talking as the police officer writes notes. Dad listens with a grave expression. When they are done, Schultzy knocks on the office door.
***
“I’ll kick their scumbag, jerk-faced, snot-bucket, low-life asses!” Simon paces around my bedroom, punching a fist into his other hand. “Worthless bags of beaver crap!”
“Beaver crap?” I fall back on my bed laughing, my head landing on my soft pillow. It feels so good to laugh for a change.
“I should have been onto them, Abby.” Simon sits on my bed.
“How would you, or anyone else for that matter, know what they were up to?”
“I knew what they were capable of.”
“You’re cute when you care so much.” I pinch Simon’s stubbly cheek and he blushes.
“Sorry I haven’t been all that available lately,” says Simon.
“Love will do that to a person.”
“It’s not love. Just serious like.”
“Remember when Liam and I got together? I kind of dumped you for a while. That is, until I missed our crazy conversations, marathon movie binges, and gourmet gelato way too much.”
Simon gets quiet. Looks down at his hands. “Olivia got into MIT.”
“What’s that?”
He gives me a look like I’m a total imbecile. “Massachusetts Institute of Technology? Ever heard of it? Only the top engineering university in all of the U.S., maybe even the world.”
“Ontario isn’t that far from Massachusetts, is it? Maybe you’ll be able to meet up halfway.”
Simon shakes his head. “In just three months everything’s going to be so new and different.”
“For you, maybe. Everybody’s moving on with their lives. Everybody but me, that is. I get to spend a big chunk of my gap year either in the hospital or at home recovering from surgery. Same old, same old. And repeat.”
Simon gets a text. “It’s Olivia. She’s on her way to my place.”
“Is tonight the big night, if you know what I mean?” I raise my eyebrows up and down.
“We’ve already had sex, Abby. Lots of times.”
“What?! And you didn’t tell me?”
“It was none of your business.”
“Well, so, what was it like?”
“I repeat. None of your business.” Simon leans over and gives me a quick, stiff hug. “See you at the grad ceremony in the morning?”
“Yup.”
“What about the banquet tomorrow night?”
“My dad said he’ll disown me if I don’t go.”
“Good for Derek. Save me a dance?”
“You and dance in the same sentence?”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Simon leaves.
I roll onto my back and stare at the crisscrossing veins of old plaster on my ceiling, pretending one of them is a road that will lead me to where I need to go.
***
That night, I dream that I’m waiting at the gate of a busy airport. My graduating class is all lined up—Grace, Serena, Simon, Briar, Liam, Tammy, Carter, Leon, and everyone else—waiting to board a flight. Officials are at the desk, checking passports and boarding passes, ushering people aboard the flight. I join the line, hold tightly to my boarding pass. When I finally get to the desk, the airline agent tries to scan my boarding pass, but it’s blank. It won’t scan. I keep asking her to try again and again. I’m directed to get out of the line so others can board the flight.
AND THE WINNER IS...
For the morning graduation ceremony at Calgary’s Jube, formally known as
the Southern Alberta Jubilee Auditorium, Dad and Gramz stand at the back while I walk across the stage in my cap and gown. As Mr. Hardy hands me my high school diploma rolled up with a red ribbon, both wave enthusiastically. Gramz blows me a kiss. They have to leave right now so she can catch her flight to Bali. Dad will drop her off at the airport and pick up Jeannie.
The graduating class is seated in alphabetical order. Grace Chelanga is in the second row, Briar Edwards is in the next row. Serena Halstead is at the end of my row. Leon Labelle and Carter Lee are right behind me. Liam Thompson and Simon Williamson are several rows behind. No Dax Brozik. No Mason Jamieson.
I’m almost crushing my graduation diploma as I wait for the endless awards to be handed out. Awards for the outstanding athletes, best sportsmanship, citizenship, academic recognition in every subject area, most improved student, best volunteer, outstanding junior musician, and outstanding senior musician. When I see Mr. Owen head to the microphone, I know he’s going to announce the award I’ve been waiting for. My heart pounds so hard I can feel my ears heat up.
“The winner of this next award, for the best performance at our Graduate Drama Showcase, will also be invited to attend a summer workshop with Theater on the Edge. I’d like to invite Mike Storm and Denise McSweeny, artistic directors of Theater on the Edge, to present the award.”
A man and a woman seated onstage stand and walk to the microphone.
Denise talks first. “I just want to say what an honor it was to attend Rocky View High School’s Graduate Drama Showcase last week. I have to tell you, both Mike and I were blown away by the talent in your school’s drama department.”
“After having the privilege of experiencing such powerful performances, it was a very difficult decision to choose just one student. But after much deliberation,” Mike says, “the winner of the Theater on the Edge summer internship for her monologue performance is…Zoe McMaster for ‘Inside Out.’ ”
My heart does a flip-flop. Everyone cheers as Zoe heads to the stage for her award and has her photo taken with Mike and Denise. I finally start clapping. If Zoe performed at the showcase even half as well as she did in rehearsal, she deserves this. Big time.
Mike and Denise return the microphone. Mike says, “As we said earlier, this was not an easy decision. Two of the performances stood out for us, and it was difficult choosing a clear winner. Therefore, Theater on the Edge has decided to also invite Abby Hughes to perform her monologue, ‘Dancing with the Bear,’ at our summer festival. Abby, could you please stand up.”
I’m in shock. I slowly stand. People clap and cheer. Runner-up is still pretty sweet.
“Please give a big round of applause for all the graduates of the drama department,” says Mr. Owen. “It has been an honor to be your teacher over the past four years.” I clap and look around at my fellow drama students, including Tammy, Carter, Leon, Tali, and Zoe. Mr. Owen bows as the drama class gives him a standing ovation.
***
Everyone is milling about in the foyer of the auditorium. I look around but don’t see Liam. Serena, Briar, and Grace are huddled in a corner. Grace shakes her head, walks toward me rolling her eyes.
“Want to get pissed this afternoon?” Grace asks.
“Are you nuts?”
“That’s what Serena and Briar are planning on doing. Serena stole some booze from her mom, and they’re going to start drinking before the banquet.”
“So not a good idea,” I say.
“That’s what I told them, but they’re not listening.”
“Anyone else joining them?”
“No. Justin, Liam, Briar, Keegan, and I are meeting at Serena’s for photos, then going to the convention center from there.”
“In a limo?” I ask, feeling like the biggest loser ever, especially as I’ll be going with Jeannie and Dad in the truck.
“Yeah, Serena’s mom is bucking up for it. How could her little, drunk girl go to grad in just any ol’ vehicle?”
A pang of jealousy hits me hard. I always imagined Liam and me going to grad together in a limo.
“Need a ride home?” I ask.
“No, thanks. I probably should go home with my mom.” Grace looks into the crowd of people. “She’s here somewhere.”
“See you tonight, Grace,” I say.
“I’m so proud of you, Abbs.” Grace gives me a big hug. “Performing in the summer festival is such an honor. Shit, did I just sound like somebody’s mother?”
“Yeah, but I could use a mother right about now.” Grace kisses me on the cheek.
Outside the auditorium, everyone is having photos taken with their families, selfies with their friends. Everyone looks so excited to be moving on with their lives. All I feel is empty and alone, like I’m being left so far behind. With a blank boarding pass.
I walk to my car and get in. Take my cell phone out of my purse, search the Evolve page, close my eyes, and scroll. “If your life isn’t going the way you want, it’s time to start hanging out with your future and stop hanging out with your past.”
I watch Tammy and her mom getting their photo taken. Tammy, who has gone through—and is still going through—way more than me, looks so proud, so confident, so hopeful for her future. Determined to live that authentic life that she talked about in her monologue, even with all the struggles she faces. Makes me wonder: if I’d strutted into my new life the way Tammy did, instead of hiding at home for months, maybe I’d be farther ahead in the self-acceptance department. Hey world, here I am. Whether you’re ready for the new me or not. I turn the rearview mirror toward me and look closely at my face. I smile my weird, wonderful, crooked smile. And for the first time in a very long while, I can see the real me reflecting back. I like what I see.
I search the contacts on my phone. “Hello, this is Abby Hughes. I’m calling to cancel my surgery with Dr. Van der Meer scheduled for eight o’clock on the morning of July 17 at the Foothills Hospital. No, I won’t be rescheduling the surgery. No, I don’t need to make another appointment. Thanks, good-bye.”
I search the Internet for a number and dial it. “Hi, may I please speak with someone about applying to the Faculty of Education. Yes, for this September.”
***
“Oh my God, Bean! Huge life decisions you made, and all in one day,” says Jeannie, laying out eye shadow, lipstick, and makeup brushes on the bathroom counter. She’s already dressed for the banquet in a short black sleeveless dress. “What do you think Dad will say about you canceling your surgery?”
“He’ll be shocked and give me the are-you-sure-this-is-the-right-course-of-action speech, but I think he’ll understand that I want to just get on with my life.” I look at myself in the mirror. “Besides, he’s always told me that it’s my decision whether or not I have more surgery.”
“Do you think you might change your mind?”
I shrug. “Not sure. But right now I want to try life just the way I am and see what happens.”
Jeannie wraps me in a hug so tight it feels like my ribs might break.
“I’ve missed you more than the smell of Dad’s stinky work socks, Bean,” she says.
“I’ve missed you more than the green fuzz on expired yogurt.”
“I’ve missed you more than Ruby’s barf after she’s eaten a dead rodent.”
We both crack up. “Ah, nice one, J.”
Jeannie, my makeup coach, looks at me like an artist observing her canvas. I’m already wearing mascara, and the concealer has lived up to its promise to last all day.
“You need way more of the green eye shadow on your eyelid and then the brown in the crease. You’ve got to show off your beautiful eyes.” She sticks a makeup brush into a container of emerald-green eye shadow.
“I’ll look like a hooker.”
“Close your eyes and trust me.”
I do as I’m told. The brush tickles my left eyeli
d. I can barely feel the right one because of the scarring.
“When it comes to makeup, more is more on grad night. Everybody will want to take selfies with you.”
“We’ll see about that.” I stop myself. Switch it around. “Yes, everyone will be taking selfies with me because I am going to look absolutely stunning.” At least Grace and Simon will want to.
“Open your eyes.”
The eye makeup is way more than I have ever worn in my entire life, but I will trust Jeannie on this one.
Jeannie picks up a tube of lipstick. “Now you need a more subtle color on your lips. This one’s called Stepping Out. Perfect.” Jeannie giggles as I roll my eyes.
She paints my lips with the pinkish-brown shade.
“Now let’s see the hair,” Jeannie says. “Good job blow-drying, but I thought Dad was going to spring for a hairstylist.”
“I told him to save his money. Besides, the bald patches have mostly grown in.”
“Now put on the dress,” Jeannie says, squealing with excitement.
I take off my skirt and blouse, slip on the satiny green dress, and stand in front of my full-length mirror. I almost don’t recognize myself.
Jeannie gasps and puts her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Bean…”
The old Abby would have translated Jeannie’s gasp as being horrified at how ghastly I look. But I know she thinks I look amazing, and I have to agree with her. My scars, crooked smile, and all.
DON’T YOU (FORGET ABOUT ME)
The grad banquet is held in downtown Calgary at the convention center. A big deal. I wait at the entrance while Dad and Jeannie park the truck. Limo after limo line up and out come my fellow graduates, looking so handsome and beautiful. Tammy and her date, Charley. Leon with a girl I don’t know. I realize that after I write my last final exam, I may never see many of these people again. I feel kind of sad.