Beauty (16 page)

“Perfect…?” he interrupted.

We’d had
this conversation too many times.

“No…not perfect…” I sighed, meeting his gaze. “Just fair…”

“But Miss Ev
elyn don’t you see how fair
life has already been to you. Both of your parents are living. You still have the chance to find true love and do it right…unlike me. You have friends…Michael, Abigail…and what’s…what’s that young black boy’s name…”

“Buster…? No George you don’t get it!” I whispered harshly. “Those people aren’t my friends. They’re almost all as worse off as I am. I want social status not
social
death by association…”

“They come here with you nearly every day… That fella Michael…he…”

“I cut myself George!” I snapped, hiking up the hem of my dress to expose my right thigh.

Spanx…shit…!

With effort I rolled the unforgiving spandex just high enough for him to see the seven long scars running across my skin.

“This…was on purpose. It helps take the pain away…the other pain,” I mutter
ed
, pushing the hem of my dress back down. “The last time I saw you…som
ething bad happened after that…
”

“Was it me…?!” George asked in horror, tears brimming his wrinkled lids.

“No George…never you,” I reassured him, placing my hand over his.

“Something bad happened once I left, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to commit suicide and…”

It all came tumbling out. I left out the rapes and the drugs, but the witch I told him about. My miraculous weight loss and then my downward spiral over the last few days seemed bizarre when thought about with a sober mind, but George’s face never changed. Sympathy is all I saw as tiny wet teardrops fell down onto his shirt. When I was done, he squeezed my hand and pulled himself closer, letting his arm drape over my shoulder.

“You probably think I’m crazy,” I whispered, trying hard not to let my own tears get the best of me.

“Miss Evelyn…
” he sighed my name heavily, his eyes fading with a long ago memory. “
I told you I had a daughter, but I never talked about her because…well… I can’t go back and fix what’s been done. When I got into the army, I thought all my dreams had come true. I was tired of slaving away at the steel mill while all my buddies were coming back war heroes. They gave thei
r wives something to be proud of
, and the whole town paid attention to them. I wanted
that
for my family. It was all I could talk about for years. How I wanted to be just like them, and how unhappy I was with the life I had.

“
So when the Vietnam war came around I enlisted… My wife had just had Majorie when I got the letter. I was to ship out in less than a month. I was too busy being h
appy about my good fortune, that
I couldn’
t see
my family needed me at home. My wife had been ailing since giving birth, and well…she didn’t want to ruin my dreams, so she let me go. Two long years I was over there. I lost my arm, both my legs, but that didn’t even matter…

“
When I got home, I found out that my wife was dying of cancer. Jorie was only three and I couldn’t deal with both. I
gave her to my sister to raise
while I spent my days in
a bar drinking away my sorrows. My nights I spent at the
hospital crying over my
wife’
s dying body, yet
I never even went to her funeral. My sister’s husband got a new job a few years after that
and they moved away
, but…I didn’
t ever ask to even see my little girl
.
I was scared she’d look just like her mama;
I didn’t
want
to see her. I guess I
also
figured that if she’d never been born then my wife would have never gotten sick.
Stupid…I know…
I was so wrapped up in my own grief and my own feelings that I stopped loving her.

“
When I came here
,
I finally realized that because of my selfishness I’d lost out on a few more happy years with the love of my life, and most importantly a chance to be a father to the daughter we’d created. It
i
s true what they say…
the
grass is always greener on the other side… That is…
until you get there,
”
he smiled sadly, lost in his own thoughts. “I’ve spent my whole life wishing to be
somewhere
I wasn’t,
someone
I wasn’t,
something
I wasn’t. N
ow
…
I jus
t wish that I could have a chanc
e to start over and be myself…a good husband, a good father…a good man…”

“But you are…” I sighed through the silent tears I’d been shedding, my head now resting on George’s shoulder. “Your daughter…if she saw you now… If you told her what you just told me…”

“I’ve tried,” George shrugged,
his hand patting mine. “She doesn’t w
ant to see me. Every year I sent a letter… Every year I go
t one back from my sister, telling me that I shouldn’t write again…”

“
But she’s grown now… You could contact her directly
…”

“Yeah…maybe so…” George nodded
, swiping the wetness from his face. “Before it’s too late…”

Yeah…before it’s too late… Except…it’s already too late for me…

“We should go for a stroll around the gardens. It’s been a while,” I smiled, cocking my head to the bank of windows overlooking the back lawn.

He nodded slowly, and I jumped up to go grab a pass from the nurse’s station. My hands were shaking so badly that I probably needed the fresh air more than he did. George’s situation didn’t apply to me. My mother had always hated the fact that I was fat. I’d grown up hating myself for being fat. And my so called friends…well…I’d never really considered them friends anyway.

Chapter 14*

My visit at Sunnyview left me
more tired than
I’d been in days. I trudged from my car, my body weary from helping nurse Mars clean rooms, but my mind abuzz with jittery thoughts. I’d been so distracted on the drive home that I’d stalled my poor Jetta out twice trying to get through a stop light. Next year, I promised myself, I would request a dorm that had elevators. I’
d had no choice on
my freshman year assign
ment and had killed myself climbing
up to the sixth floor every day. Today felt worse than any other day, depression setting in again when my thoughts turned to George and his daughter
once more
. I
had
to go to the ball tomorrow night. He needed a friend right now.

I knew something was immediately wrong when my foot reached the top step leading to the sixth floor. My dorm suite was the first one on the left, and now that I was the only one using a room in there, I always made sure to lock the out
er
door as well as the door to my bedroom. It was standing wide open. I could hear the cleaning crew, laughing and talking a few doors down, so I wasn’t scared. Nervous was more like it.
Did they go into my bedroom too…?

Pan
ic sank through me as I stepped
into the living area of my suite, my eyes holding on my slightly ajar bedroom door. I’d definitely locked it. I remembered…closing my eyes I saw myself, talking to Becca while using the key…

I suddenly forgot how tired my body felt, my legs moving me in a stumbling burst into my bedroom. Wildly I let my gaze sweep the room, taking in the disheveled covers on my bed, and shuffled books on my desk. There were little things that caught my attention, that shouldn’t have been. The over turned calculator, the little blue box I kept all my spare change i
n
, the out of place mug that read Alabama State University on the side…it was all wrong.

Within a few seconds I was sitting at my desk, digging in my bottom drawer for the gym bag I’d hidden everything in. My hands reached inside before I looked and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Yes…!
My coke was still there, and yes…so were the Adderall pills.
Oh shit…fuck…Fuck…FUCK!
My fingers searched the lining of the bag
-
eve
n though I knew it was hopeless—
a scream ripping from my throat as I turned it inside out and shook it.

My money was gone. All two thousands dollars had vanished into thin air…j
ust like that. My entire body trembled
in despair as I remember
ed
Tro
y’s words. I couldn’t just go back and make more money, I had to lose weight first, and that just wasn’t going to happen. I needed that money.

I thought about calling my mom and dad and asking them for a loan, and then I remembered that my mom and I were no longer on spea
king terms. The harder I tried to think of a solution
, the angrier I felt, the laughter coming from the hall snapping something deep inside me. The pills and coke
I stuffed under my pillow, stom
ping my way back down the hall, looking for the source.

Three workers turned to look at me as I slammed the door
fully
open, th
eir laughter stopping immediately
. I was too mad to be intimidated, and they knew what I was here for.
The
tall
Mexican looking one pulled a hanging toothpick from his mouth
, a gummy grin thrown in my direction as he spoke.

“May we help?” he asked in broken English, his thumb hitting the switch on the vacuum cleaner so that silence settled in the space.

“My money? You have it, and I want it back!” I spat out, my palm extended out to them.

“Dinero…?” one of the other men questioned, confusion in his features as he looked to the tall Mexican.

I wait
ed
while they spoke to each other in
rapid
Spanish, cursing the fact that I’d taken French all four years of high school. I didn’t understand a word that they said, but I took a step forward when the other two broke into grins as well.

“Well…” I patted my foot impatiently. “Where’s my money?!” I was shouting now,
and the three of them broke
into laughter, turning their attention back to their work.

“Can you fucking hear me?!” Do you fucking understand?!” I screamed, taking off my
right
shoe and hurling between the three of them.

“Get out!” the tall Mexican growled, switching off his vacuum for the second time.

“No…
! N
ot without my money!” I shouted, charging at him with my shoulder down.

He caught me as if I were a twig, spinning me around and propelling me back towards the door.

“Crazy kid…” he spat, flicking on the vacuum once again. “I work hard. I no steal! EVER!” he roared, his attention back on the carpet.

My shoulder suddenly ached where he’d grabbed me, but I still stuck my middle finger up at the two that were looking, tight smiles plastered on their face
s
.

They were probably illegals. I could call the police and have them searched. The thought hit me and then faded just as quickly.
What if they questioned me about the money? Where would a college girl get t
wo thousand
dollars? Why would I have it in my desk drawer hidden in an old gym bag instead of in the bank?

I had no answers that would sound legit. My anger was so tangible now that I could taste it as I made my way back to my room, tears in my eyes once again. It wasn’t until the salty trickle of
my own
blood made its way down my throat that I realized I’d bitten my tongue during my tantrum. It felt good…transferring the pain to something I could control. But what was I going to do about the rest…?

I had enough coke left for maybe two full lines…four hits if I took it slow. I’d done eight lines alone yesterday. My second day of Thermodynamics was coming up in the morning, and there was no way I was going to get through it without being at least a little high. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but coke made everything clear for me. I c
ould function on it, without it
I felt like this…
J
ust…
miserable.

Sitting down on my bed I counted out the remaining Adderall pills, leaving two out and replacing the other eight. The tiny bit of coke I had left, I put back, hoping that the pills would be enough to keep the edge off. If I could fall asleep now, and
stay
sleep until morning, I would have enough to get me through the class at least.

It didn’t sound convincing…even to me, but I shut and locked my bedroom door anyway, placing the back of my desk chair under the knob so that no one could break in if they tried. I was suddenly paranoid.