Honorable Disgrace

by Stephanie N. Pitman

  Flying at her, I screamed, “I said get out. Leave me alone.” I shoved her, knocking her through the door, slamming it in her stunned face. I locked it and leaned against it. My knees gave out and I slid to the floor. I stared at my arm, transfixed by the dot to dot of discoloration, remembering the cruel feel of Brad’s fingers.

  The handle rattled above my head and then Lorraine knocked. “Angie, let me in.” The knob rattled again. And then the door shook against my back when she slammed into it. “Fine.”

  Her footsteps retreated. Shorty after, I heard the distant open and close of the front door.

  I pulled a blanket off the foot of my bed, draping it around my shoulders, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes in a vain effort to staunch the flow of tears. I could have told her. I should have told her.

  My hands trembled. Thoughts of Brad forcing himself on me, his smell, his hands, his skin, his body on me, my skin pulsing as if he were here.

  The urge to shower weighed on me, to rid myself of the feel of his touch. Soon I was crouched on the shower floor, water pelting me, several areas of my body oozing blood. I scrubbed and scrubbed, opening up old wounds, creating new ones. The water began to cool so I turned the cold knob completely off, cranking the hot up. Too soon the hot turned cold and I switched the water off.

  The full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door was misted with moisture. Slowly I approached, using the towel to wipe off a section revealing my face, my lips swollen. I swiped again, each swipe revealing more and more. I stuffed my hand into my mouth to stifle my cry. Across my abdomen was a large bruise that curved down around my hip. I poked the edges of it, flattening my hand on my stomach, and lightly rubbed it. And then I stopped, pressing my fingertips in.

  A high-pitched mewling filled the small space, the sound like that of an injured cat mingled with the cry of a tortured soul. I fell against the counter, the distorted sound coming from me, dizziness hitting me. What if I was pregnant?

  “Angie, is that you? You alright?” My mom tapped on the bathroom door, her voice anxious.

  “Umm, yeah,” I choked, hoping it sounded halfway normal.

  “You sure?” The knob began to rattle.

  “Yes.” Fearing she’d go for the key above the door, I wrapped quickly in my bathrobe. My disheveled hair seemed to make the circles under my eyes even more noticeable, but there was nothing to be done for it. The door opened.

  “You’re home early.” Her bright eyes were too keen.

  I pushed quickly past and retreated to my bed, pulling my covers up to my chin.

  “I’m not feeling well.”

  She sat down beside me, too close. I fought the impulse to scoot away, cringing when she reached toward me. I clenched my teeth, silently berating myself. Had she noticed? She pulled back, scrutinizing my face and then placed her hand on my forehead.

  “You are warm.” She said it more to herself than me. Her comforting smell, jasmine and a hint of chocolate, made me think of when I was younger, sick and encircled in her warm embrace. I wanted to be now, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Biting my lip, I resisted the urge to lean into her.

  “I’ll go warm up a bowl of chicken noodle, how’s that sound?”

  I smiled weakly. That was her cure-all. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it down but I didn’t argue.

  She patted my leg and stood to leave. “Oh, you left your phone upstairs.” She held it out to me. I was careful to keep the sleeve of my bathrobe down so as not to reveal my arm, and held out my hand. “You may want to check your messages. It looks like you’ve missed a few calls.”

  “You looked at my phone?” A spark of my old self surfaced and I snappily flipped my phone open, my heart leaping at the sight of Cory’s name again and again under missed calls.

  “Parent’s privilege.” She smiled then left.

  I’d slept most of the day, school was almost out. I thumbed through my calls. Two were from JJ. Pleasure warmed my chest as I tallied nine from Cory, but it stuck in my throat, my lip trembling, a hollow thud popping the bubble of momentary joy.

  I began to listen to Cory’s message, but skipped it, too painful to hear his apology. Instead I moved on to JJ’s messages, all demanding to know where I was and to call Cory for heaven’s sake. My finger rested over his picture to call him back. I ached to hear his voice, to hear his laughter, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough, and no way could I let him see me like this. I was about to close my phone when my wallpaper came into view, a picture of Cory. He was laughing with the bit of chocolate I’d smeared on his lip and face. I’d taken it right before he took me to work yesterday, before …

  It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Cory’s face blurred, and I wiped my eyes. His face darkened and then disappeared, my phone timing out. I heard my mom on the stairs and laid my phone down, using the corner of my blanket to dab at my eyes.

  A tray balanced on her hip, she paused in the door and gazed at me uncertainly. The aroma of the soup preceded her entry, and my stomach constricted, a cold sweat flushing my skin.

  She held out a spoonful to me. “Eat.”

  I shook my head, but she pushed it against my lips. I forced it down.

  “Your sister called. Anything you want to tell me?” My mom set the tray on my lap and watched me with interest.

  “Lorraine called?” I paused, the spoon halfway to my mouth, my stomach in my throat. Why was I trying to hide this from my mom? I should be breaking down, divesting myself of the burden. “What’d she say?”

  “Said you were acting odd.”

  “She’s mad I took her truck. But what does she expect, abandoning me. I had to get to school somehow.”

  “But you didn’t go to school.”

  “Well, no, I wasn’t feeling … well.” Pushing the bowl away I shook my head. “I can’t eat anymore.”

  She frowned, but picked up the tray. “I hope you aren’t coming down with anything serious. Homecoming’s tomorrow.”

  My heart sank. There was no getting better.

  My phone vibrated. Clenching my eyes, I held it up in front of my face, and peeked. Ahh, it was only JJ. I thought about sending it to voicemail. My mom left as I answered.

  “Hi, JJ.”

  “Where in the world have you been? Cory’s been harassing me all day. Between classes he’s stalking me, at lunch he sat with me, he’s even watching me right now—he’s driving me crazy.”

  “I’m not … feeling well.” My insides glowed with warmth, quickly succumbing to icy cold. He wouldn’t be so worried if he knew the truth. Silence greeted me. “JJ, are you there?”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “What, no …” But she’d already hung up. I tried calling her back, but it went straight to her voicemail. It was never easy lying to JJ. She knew me too well. But at least over the phone, there was a shred of a chance I might succeed.

  Cursing, I flung back my covers and grabbed my sweats, then dug through my drawers until I came up with a long sleeve shirt. Next, I dabbed at my face with concealer to cover up my haggard appearance. My final step was to brush the snarls from my wet hair, flinching over the tenderness of my scalp. Huge clumps of hair filled my brush and I forced back my panic, carefully fingering several bald spots. No more crying. Not until after JJ left.

  I’d only been back in bed a few minutes when JJ burst into my room unannounced. She narrowed her eyes, studying me. I was beginning to feel like an animal in the zoo under all this scrutiny. “Do I pass?”

  “Pass what?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever it is you’re looking for.” I shrugged and propped my pillows behind my back.

  “Not sure yet.” She cocked her head to the side, and pulled the stool from my vanity over to my bedside, her chin in her hand. “I told you to call Cory. Why haven’t you?”

  “Who says I haven’t?” My hands fidgeted in my lap. I refused to look at her.

  “Cory. I just got off the phone with him. Again.” The note of
derision might have made me want to laugh under other circumstances. I could just hear the ‘duh’ behind it even without her saying it. She rolled her eyes as thought to further prove her point. “If you don’t call him, he’s just going to come over. He’s probably on his way right now.”

  “No, he can’t.” I tensed, pushing my back flat against the wall, eyes widening, and shook my head frenetically. “I don’t want him to.”

  “Why not?” She sat back, an eyebrow drawn up like I was a puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out. “I think its sweet he’s so worried about you. Just annoying as hell.”

  “I just don’t want him to see me like this.”

  “Well, you could at least talk to him.”

  I turned away from her scrutiny and started picking at a piece of loose skin on my hands, then shoved them under my blanket when I realized just how bad they looked, nails broken and bruised, red raw sores on my knuckles. “JJ, I … need you do something for me. No questions asked.”

  She pursed her lips. “Well, that depends.”

  “On what?” I sighed.

  “No questions ever or just not right now?” She arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Always a negotiator, huh?” A chuckle escaped, and I winced at the pain it brought to my abdomen. I tried to hide it by acting like I’d just been trying to adjust. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. Later.” Though I would never tell her. I’d never tell anyone.

  She held out her hand. “Deal.”

  “What, you’re not going to make me seal it in blood or spit shake?” I didn’t have to force the weak smile. Her presence alone helped to lift me slightly from the blackness.

  “Hey, not a bad idea,” She moved her hand to her mouth and pretended to spit.

  I gave a halfhearted smile, and shoved my hands further under the blankets.

  Her mouth tightened into a thin line. “Alright, what do you need?”

  I swallowed. Now she had agreed, I didn’t know if I could go through with this. I knew it was for the best, but the thought of it made me want to curl up in a ball again. I knew she wasn’t going to like my request, but I couldn’t do it on my own. “I need you to talk to Cory for me.”

  “Whoa, I don’t do ‘talking.’ I don’t get involved. I’ve already done enough playing go-between with you guys.”

  “I know, I know. But, JJ, I can’t. There’s no way I can do this. If I see him, even hear his voice, I won’t be able to go through with it. And it has to be done.”

  “What has to be done?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “I need you to tell him …” I swallowed again, blinking back the sting of tears, and finished in a rush. “I need to … I have to break up with him.”

  “What?” She leaned toward me, her mouth hanging open. “Why?”

  I shoved back the ‘why,’ the mental picture pushing forward, and shook my head. I could feel the moisture building, the burning itch behind my widened eyes. “No questions. Please.”

  She stood, pretending to study the pictures on my wall, pictures I’d had since I was eleven, a kitten clinging to a tree branch with “Hang On” below it, a poster of my dream car, a red convertible ’68 Corvette, and a multicolored pastel wood plaque I’d made in church, each color signifying a core value. The beige was for virtue. Which no longer applied to me. I turned away from the plaque. “He really should hear this from you.”

  “I know.” I whispered and closed my eyes, a tear slipping out and down my cheek. “I just … can’t.”

  She sat heavily, and sighed, her bright hazel eyes focusing on me. “He’s gonna want to know why.”

  “Yeah.” My shoulders sagged. She was going to do it. “Tell him … tell him it’s because he deserves better.” I curled away from her, silent tears soaking my pillow.

  “Deserves better?” I could hear the scorn, nothing comical about her tone now. Knowing her expression without looking, I just grunted. “That’s bullcrap. You are the best he could ask for. I don’t buy that, and Cory won’t either.”

  “Fine, tell him it’s because of last night. He’ll know what I mean.” This wasn’t really a lie. Though he didn’t truly know what about last night caused my decision. Let him think it was him not trusting me.

  She sighed again, her touch light on my shoulder, her voice calmer. “Angie, what’s really going on?”

  “Nothing.” I rolled away from her touch and pulled my blanket over me. “I just don’t feel well.”

  Silence filled the room. I could tell she didn’t believe me. Why would she? She knew me almost better than I knew myself. Her footsteps padded to the door and then more silence, the weight of her stare pressing me down. Then she exhaled sharply. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  I stayed in my cocoon and smiled sadly, the tears flowing freely. I whispered so softly she probably didn’t hear me, “Thank you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  In the light of day the smooth cobalt material shimmered as I fingered the silky fabric. If I were still a normal girl, I’d be sliding into this beautiful gown, giddy with anticipation, my stomach in knots as I awaited my prince charming.

  But prince charming wasn’t coming, and there was no ball for this belle.

  JJ must have called Cory as soon as she left yesterday. Roused from my numbness by the incessant ringing of Cory’s ringtone, the first few lines to “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perry, I let them all go to voicemail. Once he started texting, I turned off my phone. When the doorbell rang not long after, I knew it was him. I pretended to be asleep. After my mom gave up trying to wake me from my pretend sleep, I rolled over and stared at the door. Why wouldn’t he leave me alone?

  I’d lain awake a long time after his last call, wishing sleep would take me and offer me some kind of solace, take me away from my self-made prison, wishing Cory had kept trying, wishing he hadn’t given up even though I’d given him no choice.

  Terror woke me in the middle of the night, leaving me gasping and clawing at my skin and stomach as if trying to peel it away, to shed myself of its taint, to rid myself of the monster inside me. My hand flat on my belly, I pressed my fingers hard into my skin. Was there something growing inside me? Was it a monster? I recoiled at the thought, guilt twisting in my gut for even thinking an innocent fetus, an innocent baby, could be a monster, but the fear persisted and I was unable to go back to sleep.

  I’d wandered my dark house, the familiarity strangely adding to my emptiness. Then I cleaned my room, but abandoned it when I came upon a strip of pictures from one of those booths in the mall, Cory and I in various silly poses.

  After that, I moved to my closet to organize it. That was a mistake. The blue gown was a stark reminder of the dance and the life I couldn’t face.

  I couldn’t focus to read—too many doubts and worries intruding.

  And almost worst of all, music made me feel, so I couldn’t even use that to quiet my thoughts. It was just too painful.

  A soft knock on my door drew me out of my reverie. I let the material of the gown fall to the bed, then lay beside it, ignoring the knock. The door opened, but I ignored that, too. My mom’s hand touched my forehead. “Still not feeling well?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s too bad you’re going to miss Homecoming. You would have looked beautiful.” She stroked my hair, the rhythmic motion soothing. “Sure you’re not hungry?”

  Again, I shook my head.

  “You’re worrying me. If you’re not better come Monday, you’re going to the doctor.”

  “No.” I rolled over and grabbed at her hand.

  Her lips puckered. “We’ll see. If it lasts much longer, you’re not going to have a choice.”

  I turned away and lay silent. Soon the door closed, her footsteps receding.

  After a time I got up, pacing the length of my room. I glimpsed the lifeless girl in the mirror, expressionless and listless but for the sparkle of moisture seeping out of the corner of her eye. I turned away. The image burned into my retinas, haunting me. My pacing i
ntensified, the dark wood walls caved in. Great gasping sounds filled my room. I had to get out of here.

  After sweeping my hair up into a ponytail and grabbing my running shoes and a jacket, I bolted from my room like it was a prison break.

  I glimpsed my mom’s startled glance as I darted by, but whether she called after me or not I couldn’t tell, too caught up in my flight. Taking deep lungful’s of air, I didn’t slow until I was well out of sight, heading out of the small neighborhood for the lonesome landscape of the long, flat farm roads, perfect for running, perfect for escape.

  Settling into a measured jog, my body objected to each tortuous, yet liberating stride, the throbbing pain fueling my need for flight. Faster and faster I ran. I ran for miles, farther than I’d ever run, unable to elude the pain nipping at my heels, the agonizing worry of what I could be carrying, the unnerving desire to end it all. It would be so easy to veer into one of the few oncoming vehicles, like the distant car speeding toward me now. It would be so easy.

  As it got closer, I thought about the timing, the shape of a sleek black car materializing, the rich sound of its engine. My breath hitched, the lines of the car painfully familiar. Brad’s BMW. In some part of my frantic brain I knew it wasn’t his, but I couldn’t stop from pelting down the asphalt. My feet had a mind of their own, or maybe I was just a coward, or maybe it was truly heroic, but I found myself cutting through the middle of a barren field. I ran flat out, my feet pounding the hard packed path, my lungs aching, ready to burst.

  The car zipped past on the dirt road, never slowing, no indication the driver had any interest in the crazy girl running in the field—and it was definitely not a BMW. It wasn’t even black.

  I bent over and grabbed my knees, gasping for air, cries racking my body. Was my grief ever going to end? Collapsing to the earth, I retched and retched again. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I rocked, my sobs punctuating the crisp night air. Long shadows began to fall by the time I noticed, the sky darkening to hues of pink, purple, and blue, my curled shadow oblong and misshapen.

  Only when I began to shiver did I become aware of my surroundings again. Rubbing my arms, I pushed off the rough ground and sat up, dirt sticking to my damp clothes which clung coldly against me from sweat. I brushed off what I could while I looked around to get my bearings. A lone tractor, small and green and distant, plowed an empty field, preparing it for seed for the far off spring. A breeze ruffled my hair, my body shuddering, teeth chattering.