by Harlow Hayes
“What are you doing out here?”
I slammed my journal closed and turned to see Kate standing behind me.
“Nothing, just thinking.”
“What about Melanie? She told me that you snapped at her,” Kate said.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to, but…”
She came and set next to me on the stoop.
“I know. She can be overwhelming at times.” She pulled out a smoking pipe from her jacket and a dime bag. “But that is why God made weed.”
I set my journal down on the step and stared at her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.
“You are in law school. What are you doing with that?” I asked.
“I’m in law school. You just answered your own question,” she said, packing her pipe.
“I knew I was smelling something from my window but I thought it was the neighbors.”
“Surprise, surprise!” she said with a grin. “You want some? I know a guy.”
It was a temping offer, but then I thought about my probation.
“No, thanks. What kind of law are you studying, anyway?” I felt bad asking, unsure if she had already told me.
“Criminal defense,” she said before she disappeared in a puff of smoke.
I laughed.
“At least you’ll be able to defend yourself when you get caught, and your dealer.”
She laughed and then started to cough.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said as she held her chest. “What about you? Are you enjoying these little group outings?”
“I had some fun tonight,” I admitted.
“You thinking about that guy? Is he making you crazy?” she asked.
I was hesitant to answer.
“A little bit,” I said. “But I’m trying not to get too crazy. I barely know him.”
“I know the feeling, but that’s what we do when it comes to guys. We make ourselves crazy. Look at Melanie.” She looked up into the sky before she asked the killer question, the real question. “What about the other guy? Is he making you crazy?”
I looked down at my feet. I hadn’t thought about Frankie, not really. I should have been considering his proposal, but even though we had seen each other the past few weeks, I had ignored everything he said at the restaurant.
“No. Frankie and I are just friends. My problems are bigger than boys. I’ve got other more important stuff I’m dealing with, so I’m not all in just yet.”
The light from her lighter made her face glow in the dark.
“I get it. You seemed kind of sad the past few months.”
I looked away into the night. I didn’t want to talk to her about it.
“I know you’re behind in school, but it gets better. You’ll catch up.” She extended her bowl to me again.
“What the hell.” I took a puff and went to bed.
Chapter 18
My head hung off the edge of my bed and I studied my reflection in the mirror. It frightened me to stare at my eyes because I felt that if I looked too long, I would see the ugliness inside of me, the very ugliness that I had been trying to hide for the last several months. Sunlight shined on me and I wondered why I couldn’t see past my dislike for my physical appearance. Hearing that I’m pretty was never enough. I had been told I was pretty a million times and it never made any difference. I didn’t just want to be pretty, I wanted to be beautiful on the inside, brilliant, kind, and a slew of other things, but I felt that I was consistently missing the mark. I was so complicated, complexly layered full of a deep richness that extended beyond my body and beyond my face. The true beauty that most never seemed to find because the search requires too much effort. I believed that the words I wrote in my journal could help me find it.
August 25
BEAUTY
My confidence in myself fluctuates daily. Before it all happened, I loved myself, or I at least thought I did. I was the girl everyone wanted to know. The girl that was happy, with no worry of trivial things, capable of conquering the world. That was the perception, at least. Then after, I felt nothing. No life in me, no hope, future, and because I felt nothing, I was nothing. Now there are days when I look in the mirror and I feel beautiful. Some days I feel hideous. Some days I feel confident and capable; other days I just don’t care. I lay awake at night asking, was it because I was “pretty” that this happened to me?
Women work hard to be “pretty.” I worked hard to be pretty, but I feel that pretty cost me so much. What the hell is “pretty,” anyway? To me it feels weak, attractive but lacking in substance. I want to be all-encompassing appealing, not only to the eye but to the mind. Beauty is deeper, and I know it is more than what I see in the mirror. It is something that I hope to build inside of myself and be reflected in the way I live, the way I love others and the way that I love myself, and having the courage to do so. I am thin and curveless, with dark hair and dark eyes, like a million others, but regardless of how I feel this day or that day, I need to KNOW that I am beautiful. I KNOW that I am beautiful. There may be a million women with no curves, dark hair, and dark eyes, but out of a million there is only one me.
* * *
His text read: meet me at the beach, north ave, noon, if you aren’t busy.
I was, but I was quick to make sure I wasn’t. I went to my closet and stared at it. The cute side. It was time. There was one thing about my former self that I knew I hadn’t lost, and that was my sense of style. I no longer wanted my appearance to be a reflection of my tragedy. I wanted to be me, and me I was. I grabbed a long sundress from the back and let my freshly ironed hair hang down past my shoulders. I put on lip gloss and trekked down from Evanston to North Ave.
Small cotton-ball clouds floated across the sky, and the sun reflecting off of my skin made me look like I was glowing. Where was he? I thought. I took off my sandals and let my toes be tickled by the sand. The warmth soaked into the bottom of my feet and I felt an energy course through my body that I hadn’t felt in a while. The place was filled with children, half-naked college girls, and middle-aged men. I made my way through the crowd, looking for the loud purple umbrella he said he was sitting next to. When I walked, an old man’s eyes followed me until I was out of sight. It made me slightly uncomfortable but deep down I was flattered. At least I still had some sort of sex appeal, but the only man I wanted staring at me was Niko.
“Mara.”
I jumped. When I turned around, he had on swim trunks and an unbuttoned button-up that showed off his slim frame.
Niko stood up from his lounge chair and greeted me with a warm embrace. Tension released from my body at his touch. We had been texting each other since the potluck. Though nothing serious, the friendly interaction was welcome along with the occasional phone conversation, which seemed to be a dying art. I noticed that we could talk about our past, our upbringings, but each of us avoided the now. I didn’t discuss the rape or the extent of my relationship with Frankie, and he didn’t talk about Ashley. Our pasts had shaped us to what we were today, but sadly I don’t think either of us recognized what now existed, what was officially formed by it.
“How can you deal with this?” I asked. “There are so many people.”
Niko put his hand on my back, directing me to the chair that sat next to his. Between them was a cooler filled with water, some kind of foreign soda, and some wrapped-up food packages.
“What’s this?” I asked.
He sat in his chair. “Some drinks and food I put together.”
I was hungry so I grabbed some cheese and crackers and started munching, surprised that he had put forth that much effort for what had sounded like something much more casual.
“Well, now I feel like a bum. You didn’t tell me to bring anything.” I took a seat in the lounge chair, trying to find a comfortable position. When I leaned back into my seat, the thing flattened so fast I thought I broke it.
Niko laughed at me when my as
s planted into the sand.
“No, like this,” he said, adjusting the knobs and locking it in place.
“Where did you get these?” I asked.
“I rented them. I didn’t feel like bringing mine down here. I’m too old to be carrying all that stuff,” he said.
I chuckled at the thought of him being old. Niko was older but he had a vibrant, daring quality about him that made him seem young.
“Well, at least you old folks know how to do it up in style.”
“Yeah, we do. AARP has good tips.” He reached down for the cheese. “I knew that subscription would come in handy,” he said, joking around.
We sat quietly for a moment, taking in the atmosphere, but I didn’t want to be quiet. With him I wanted to know more.
“Why did you pick this place?” I asked, not trying to sound ungrateful. “I mean, I’m glad you invited me but there are so many people.”
“I know, it’s a little hectic here. It’s not very relaxing, but…” Niko’s eyes drifted as a man who looked like a walrus walked past in a Speedo.
“You see that?” he asked. “Yeah, I don’t know why I come here. I guess I just don’t have anything better to do.” He wiped his brow with his forearm. “You know, maybe I have an unconscious longing for Brazil, to be on a beach again. You should be able to tell me if I’m correct, right? Am I hiding a deep desire to return to my boyhood home?”
I leaned back in the chair and put my sunglasses on.
“Maybe. There could be some things that you are holding on to, deep in that mind of yours, but I have to pick at it to find out,” I said, preparing questions in my mind.
“Well, pick away,” Niko said.
I was about to ask a question when an inflated beach ball hit me in the face, bounced off, and rolled into the sand in front of me.
“What the hell?” I cried, my feet kicking up sand.
“Are you all right?” Niko asked, but before I could answer some woman came running towards me.
“I am so sorry. Are you okay?” she said. Behind her was a small boy no older than seven. “My son, he wasn’t paying attention. I’m so sorry to disturb you folks.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said, trying to hide my irritation. She instructed her son to apologize and he grabbed his ball and went on his merry way as if he didn’t just clobber my face.
After the initial embarrassment was over, I re-gathered myself and got back to my interrogation. “Okay, back to picking your brain. Do you want kids?” I asked.
Niko looked out towards the water.
“I did once, but I’m not so sure now.” His eyes looked full of hurt. “Maybe… I think I could be a dad if I found the right person, but the whole thing kind of went out the window when Ashley died.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, thinking of ways I could change the subject.
“What about you? Do you want to be a mother someday?”
Again, I wasn’t prepared to answer my own question. I didn’t know how he would react. I knew I was in that minority of women that wasn’t overly enthused about having children, and I knew how women with children felt about me—and some men, for that matter—but I did know that I didn’t want Niko looking at me the way those people did. With contempt.
“In all honesty, I don’t know. When I was younger, yes; now… I would never say never, but in recent years I’ve been leaning more towards no.”
“Really? I think you’d be a great mother.”
“Well, you don’t know me that well. The truth is I am selfish. I don’t want to make the changes necessary to be a mother, at least a good one, anyway. Plus with something like that you want to be all in, and I don’t want to make that choice if I’m only half in. I’m trying to adopt the attitude that if it doesn’t excite me enough, I shouldn’t do it, and the idea of motherhood just doesn’t excite me anymore.”
“Is that why you haven’t gone further with Frank? What’s the deal with that? Does he not excite you enough? Does he want a family and not you?”
I about choked on the cheese and crackers I was eating. I knew it was only a matter of time before he started asking questions about Frankie. Since we started talking, I had lied and omitted things. I had a reason to, but I didn’t see a reason for me to lie to him about that.
“No, that’s not why,” I said. “And you’re right, Frankie isn’t motivating me like that, not anymore.” I stared off into the distance and watched the beachgoers as I tried to formulate my thoughts. “I know that this is hard to believe, but at this stage in life Frankie and I are just friends. At some point a long time ago, I did love Frankie, beyond just friends, but he couldn’t love me that way, not really.” I took a deep breath. “If you ask Frankie he’ll tell you that I’m the love of his life, but you’re faithful to the love of your life, and you don’t disrespect them. So we ended officially four years ago, but we stayed friends, and when I came to Chicago a couple years back, our friendship grew. I would be lying if I said it hadn’t. But Frankie’s not the one for me, and deep down I think he knows it, too. I think he’s being persistent now because he realizes he does want a family, and the reality is I am the only family he’s got now, but I can’t be with him out of sympathy.”
Niko watched me intently as I spoke. The world was silent for a moment as I processed what I had just said. Niko looked as though he was meditating on my words as well.
“Why go back? From what you’re telling me, it sounds like the relationship wasn’t that great. If you are being disrespected, why go back to it? Why be friends?”
It was a question I had never asked myself.
“I could say a lot of things. Comfort and familiarity are up there, but the sad truth is that in some messed up way, we need each other. Emotionally, I mean. Our relationship is asexual and has been for a while, but there is a bond between us that has yet to be severed. I remember when Frankie and I broke up in college. Like most first breakups, I thought I was going to die. I was so inexperienced in love, and for months after I thought that I wasn’t gonna make it, that I would die from heartbreak. But I survived. The first heartbreak with my first everything. Frankie was my first everything and it’s hard to let that go. So once I eliminated the expectation of Frankie being faithful, we were able to get along. So he does what he wants to do, and I do what I want to do, and I like it that way.”
“I think you’re lying to yourself,” he said. “I don’t think you like it at all, but I understand what love can do to people, whether it’s good or bad. If you really love something, you never stop loving it. I see that Frank, Frankie, whatever he likes to be called, cares about you a lot. He’s protective of you, he loves you—he does, I can see it—but like you said, he’s not living up to your standard of love, the standard that you want or believe you deserve, which is the best kind of love, and that’s brave of you, strong of you to fight for the love that you know you deserve.
“Most people settle for the first, or the quickest, or the easiest, but not the realest. But it all changes with time. You may be blessed with love for a little while or blessed with it for a long time, but that love will change and it can change for the better or change for the worse, and if worse, it hurts. I have loved, found joy in it, lost joy in it. Hell, I’m sure I’ll find it again, but the pain I feel right now keeps me tucked away. You know, safe, and I think that’s what you’re doing, allowing your pain to keep you safe. I see a lot in you, Mara. Boldness, kindness, and potential to live a great life, but you won’t live it if you allow your pain to control you.”
He could see right through me and it made me blush, it made me vulnerable, scared and excited at the same time.
“And what about you and your life potential?” I asked, trying to put him on the spot. “How long are you going to stay safe and hide behind your pain?”
“Not much longer.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know because I can feel myself breaking free.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. A goo
d thing for you,” I said.
“It’s a great thing for me,” Niko said, smiling.
There was a longing in his eyes that made me restless. I wanted to lighten the conversation.
“Okay, now you can pick my brain,” I said, my heart racing.
“Hmm,” he said. “Can you cook?”
“Ha!” I said. “What a loaded question. If you mean can I cook like you, then no. Not even close. But I can make some mean ramen.”
“That’s it?” he asked jokingly.
“Pretty much. I’m sorry, but you’re talking to the girl that can’t brown ground beef.”
“What?”
“Yep, I burn it,” I said.
“That’s terrible,” he said, shaking his head.
“Hey, don’t judge me. And I know you don’t cook all the time, because you do that all day at work. Plus, ramen is amazing. Haven’t you had it?”
Niko looked shocked I was even asking.
“Of course, but it’s been a while, a long while.”
“Why not? It’s good.”
“Because I am an adult and I eat real food.”
He sounded pretentious, but I wasn’t kidding. At twenty-seven, my only culinary accomplishment was ramen. What can I say? I sucked at adulting.
“Burning ground beef…” He shook his head again.
“Hey, you got to make sure that it’s cooked.”
“Cooked, not incinerated.”
I erupted into laughter.
“We are going to fix this right now.” He reached down to close the cooler, stood up, and folded up the beach chair.
