Blade Silver: Color Me Scarred (9 page)

BOOK: Blade Silver: Color Me Scarred
4.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

"How are you do-"

Abby is hanging like a monkey as she peers over the wall between her dressing room and mine. I feel like someone just slugged one in
the stomach. Her expression changes, and she looks just as horrified
as I feel.

"Ruth!" Her eyes go wide. "What happened?"

And within seconds she is off the wall and opening the door to
my dressing room and staring at my arms.

I feel sick. Literally sick. Like I could lose my lunch right here
and now, like I might just puke all over the bright pink carpeting
that I'm staring down at to avoid her eyes. I sink onto the padded
bench behind me and I just let my ugly, scarred arms hang limply
between my legs. What can I say? What can I do? Have I ever felt
more humiliated?

 
nine

"RUTH," ABBY SAYS IN A QUIET VOICE. "DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF?"

Without looking up, I just nod. I don't think I can speak even if
I wanted to. I wish I could just disappear, vanish, cease to exist. Life
hurts too much.

Abby puts a gentle hand on my shoulder now. And this gesture
alone makes me want to break down and sob. But I won't cry. It's bad
enough that she's seen my scars. I can't bear to show her any more
of my weaknesses.

"Get dressed," Abby tells me as she picks up my long-sleeved
shirt from the floor and hands it to me. "We need to talk."

Then she leaves and I take off the pretty blue T-shirt, hang it
back up and, careful of my sore arms, I slip back into the longsleeved shirt. I take my time putting my khaki pants back on. I hang
up the jeans and the shorts and try to think of any other reason to
delay what I know is inevitable.

"Are you coming?" Abby calls out.

I emerge with the hangers of clothing. But I'm careful to avoid
making eye contact with my best friend. I just want out of here. The
sooner the better.

We give the attendant our numbers, put our hangers on the rack
by the door, and then walk out, through the store and back into the mall. I consider telling Abby that I have to go now, that I'll catch a
bus and see her later-like maybe next year or at our ten-year highschool reunion. But I have a feeling she won't buy that. And so we
just walk together in silence.

"Let's get something to drink," she says as we get closer to the
food court.

Feeling like a robot or a zombie, I follow her, mimic her order,
pay for my drink, then pick it up and follow her to a table in a semiquiet corner. Then I sit and just stupidly stare at my soda cup. I wish
1 could think of something witty to say, something that would make
this whole thing just blow over and go away. But nothing comes to
mind except that I am so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Just like my
dad's always telling me.

"I've read about cutting," she finally begins, speaking slowly, as
if she's trying to come up with the right words to lay this ugly thing
on the table. "But I never really got it, Ruth. I mean, why would
anyone want to intentionally hurt herself?"

I say nothing.

"Like, okay, I've accidentally cut myself when I'm shaving my
legs, and, man, it hurts so had. And that's just a little nick. Why
would you want to have that kind of pain on purpose, Ruth? I just
don't get it."

I look up at her now And she does look confused. She also
looks perplexed and frustrated and uncomfortable, and something
else-maybe angry. Like, not only does she not get me but maybe
she'd like to knock some sense into me too.

"It's hard to explain," I finally say, like that should solve
everything.

"Well, try" I can tell by her face that she's not about to let this
thing go.

So I take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, then slowly
exhale. "Okay. It's kind of like you're already hurting, you know?"
I look up at her to see if she's following this and she nods like
she does know. "Like you're hurting so much on the inside ... but
it just won't go away ... and you don't know what to do with
it ... you know?"

She nods again. "Yeah, I've felt like that sometimes. Like last
winter when Derrick broke up with me and I thought I was going
to die from the pain."

"Yeah, kinda like that."

"But I don't see how cutting myself would've helped anything."

I nod. "I know. I guess it doesn't really make sense, does it?"

"No. It doesn't. And you have to stop doing it, Ruth. You have
to stop doing it right now."

I wish it were that simple. Like I can stop just like that. "I know,"
I say to pacify her. More than anything else right now, I don't want
her to be mad at me.

"So you will?" She looks slightly hopeful now.

"I want to stop doing it," I confess. "I really do."

She seems to relax a little. "Good. So, you will stop it then?"

I touch my right arm, going to my most recent cut. My fingers
trace the shape of the bandage through the fabric of my shirt, and as
usual this brings the confusing sensation of comfort and guilt with
it. "Yeah," I tell her. "I'll stop doing it."

"Because it's really freaky, Ruth. It scares me."

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean, I couldn't believe it when I saw your arms. I couldn't
believe that anyone could actually do that to themselves. I actually
thought at first that maybe your dad did it to you. Like maybe you
were a victim of some weird kind of abuse or something."

I don't know what to say now. I'm still embarrassed and uneasy,
and Abby continues to talk about cutting. Like it's some kind of
therapy for her to go on and on about it, like she needs to get what
she saw in the dressing room out of her system. Like someone who's
just witnessed a train wreck and can't stop talking about it, like,
"Did you see all the blood? Did you hear the screams of the injured
people?"

So I just sit there and take it. I nod and I say "I know, I know"
about a hundred times. And finally I can't stand it anymore.

"Can we talk about something else now?" I ask. I want to say,
"Don't you think that I've been punished enough for this?" But I
don't. I know this is all my fault.

She looks a little surprised. "Well, yeah. Sure. Fine."

Then there's this long uncomfortable silence and I know we're
not through with this yet. "This isn't easy for me," I finally say. "And
it's not like I wanted you or anyone else to know. I mean it's pretty
humiliating."

Her expression softens a little. "Yeah, I can imagine."

"And I don't want you to tell anyone, Abby. You won't, will you?
I mean not even your mom, okay?" I know how close Abby is to
her mom. She tells her almost everything. Well, at least everything
about her friends. I doubt she tells her everything about herself.

She seems to consider this.

"Abby? You cannot tell anyone. I mean it. You're my best friend
and I have to be able to trust you with this. Okay?"

"Well," she begins slowly. "How about if I make a deal with you?
If you really quit doing it, I promise I won't tell anyone. Okay?"

My first response is to get mad. What right does she have to put
this kind of pressure on me? This is my problem, not hers. But then
I think maybe this is just what I need. Maybe Abby's pressure will help me to actually quit. "Okay," I finally tell her. "I really do want
to stop doing this. And if you promise not to tell, I promise not to
cut again. Deal?"

"Deal." Now she looks seriously relieved. "That's all I want you
to do, Ruth. I mean, you're my best friend and I really do care about
you. But I can't handle this cutting business. I mean, really, it totally
freaks me out. To imagine you doing that-that-" she kind of
gasps. "I mean, it's so horrible. Please, don't ever do it again. I can't
take it. Okay?"

"Okay," I say. "And I know it's horrible. Now can we please talk
about something else?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Better yet," I say. "Why don't we go back to the Gap so I can
get those jeans and those shorts if they're still there? I really liked
them."

"Okay. And how about that T-shirt, Ruth?" She looks really
hopeful now. "I mean I know it looked pretty bad today, but it could
be something you'd wear later on, like this summer, after your cuts
heal up and everything. They will heal up, won't they?"

"Sure," I tell her as if I know all about it. "And if I get a tan on
my arms, you might not even notice them at all." Of course, I have
no idea whether this is true. Some of my scars are six months old
and I can still see them. But right now I'll say anything to get Abby
to move off this subject. I'm even willing to buy that blue T-shirt if
it will only shut her up.

I guess shopping really is good therapy, because by the time we
finish, Abby is acting like her old self again. And she's so excited
about some of her purchases that she seems to have almost forgotten about my "little problem."

Just as we're leaving the mall, her cell phone rings and she answers it. "Glen?" she says with a surprised expression. I feel a
sudden jab of jealousy. Like why is Glen calling Abby?

"No, that's okay," she tells him in a very sweet voice. "As a matter
of fact, Ruth just happens to be with me right now. Do you want to
talk to her?" Then she hands the phone over to me.

"Hello?" I'm confused.

"Hey, Ruth. Sorry to call you like this, I mean, on Abby's phone.
But I tried your house and no one answered. And Finney gave me
Abby's number and-"

"That's okay. What's up?"

1, uh, I wanted to know if you were busy tonight."

"Tonight?" I echo.

"Yeah. I wondered if you'd like to go to a movie or something."

"A movie?" Okay, I realize I sound pretty much like an idiot
now, repeating everything he says. But the truth is, I am caught
so off guard. I mean, as embarrassing as it sounds, I haven't really
dated. And I know my dad isn't too crazy about the idea of my going
out with boys. So it's not like I've pushed it or anything.

But Abby is nodding and smiling at me, wildly mouthing the
word yes, yes, over and over.

So I finally say, "Sure, Glen, that sounds cool. What time?"

He tells me he'll pick me up around seven, and I hang up and
hand the phone back to Abby. I'm kind of dazed.

"Why were you stringing him along like that, Ruth?" She shoves
the phone back into her bag. "I mean, why didn't you just say yes
when he asked?"

"I don't know ..."

Then she smiles in that coy way of hers. "Oh, I get it now.
Playing hard to get, huh?"

I shrug. "Actually, I'm not sure what my dad will say about it."

"Oh."

"I mean, it's not like it's really come up before, you know."

"But you're sixteen, Ruth. You're old enough to go out."

"Maybe according to you."

"You really think your dad will say no?"

I sigh. "I'm not sure what he'll do. But he's not exactly in a
wonderful mood since Caleb left home. The timing's not the greatest, you know?"

She seems to ponder this as she digs in her bag for her car keys.
"Hey, maybe it would help if I came in with you. Kind of soften him
up, you know? You could bring it up while I'm there. He's usually
pretty nice to me."

I actually consider this idea. And, while she's partially right-I
mean, my dad might act nice when she's around-I can imagine
him going totally nuts after she leaves. He'd accuse me of using her
to get to him, and it would just get uglier and uglier.

"That's okay," I tell her as we get in her car. "I better do this on
my own."

If shopping didn't do it, this new topic of me going out with
Glen has really distracted her from the cutting. And to my relief, she
doesn't bring it up again. In fact, I have a feeling that she'd just as
soon forget about it. I know I would. So we discuss what I'll wear,
how I'll do my hair, and important stuff like that.

But the whole time I'm wondering if my dad will throw a fit and
put his foot down. And if he does, what will I tell Glen?

"I don't even have his phone number," I say suddenly.

"Whose?"

"Glen's. What if my dad says no? I'll have to call Glen and
cancel."

"It'll be on my caller ID. Get my phone out and write it down."

And so I mess around with her phone until I finally figure out
how to get the number, then I write it down on my palm. I hope I
won't need it. But it does feel good to see those seven digits clearly
printed on my hand. Glen's phone number.

My dad's truck isn't in the driveway when Abby pulls in. It's
always a relief to get into the house before he does. Especially today
when I've got this bag from the Gap that I seriously don't want him
to see. I have no doubt he would insist on plowing through it if he
were home. I already hid the receipt in the bottom of my purse so
he won't know how much I spent. But it wouldn't surprise me if
he removed each item, one at a time, examining the price tags and
doing his own mental math. Then I'd not only get a serious lecture
on wasting money, but he'd probably drive me back to the mall and
force me to return everything. How humiliating would that be?

BOOK: Blade Silver: Color Me Scarred
4.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

A Mother's Wish by Dilly Court
Mortal Defiance by Nichole Chase
Triple Stud by Tawny Taylor
A Question of Mercy by Elizabeth Cox
A Town of Empty Rooms by Karen E. Bender
The Go-Between by L. P. Hartley