“And why would she suggest you see a therapist?”
Since moving to San Fransisco with Melody the nightmares have gotten so bad that I keep waking her up? Or perhaps because I am obviously changed, different … broken, and Melody has no idea why.
“I think Melody is concerned. I think she is worried about me but doesn’t know what to do …” I trail off, feeling bad for the position I’ve put my friends in. I know I’ve shut them out, but I don’t know how to break the habit I’ve had my whole life, a habit that has become exponentially worse after graduation.
“That’s a good friend to have. What I’d like to start with is your family. How did you grow up? What was your life like that led you to be here today? Would you be willing to talk about that?”
She patiently waits for an answer that I can’t begin to give. I like her immediately. I like her approach. I like her directness, and I definitely like the impression that therapy isn’t just a job to her; she genuinely wants to help people. It’s obvious in the look that she is giving me, in the inflection of her tone, even in the way she carries herself.
It’s just not that simple for me.
“That’s a complicated question …” I hold myself back, but she simply takes a sip of tea while waiting for me to continue. It’s apparent that she will wait however long it takes for me to gather my thoughts.
Or gather enough courage.
I open one more box of old textbooks with a grunt.
Unpacking is the worst. It’s a waste of time, especially when you’re hyper-organized. It takes substantially longer than if I were someone who could simply throw my crap into the corner and call it good—like my roommate. If he weren’t my best friend, I might kill him.
“You about done there, Reed? I’m starving.”
I scowl at Marcus. He knows this process takes me forever. He knows I’m not even close to being done, but after four years of being roommates, he is still trying to rush me. I guess I can take a break. I breathe out a heavy sigh of defeat. I don’t want to leave this mess, but I can’t deny that I’m starving, too.
“Excellent.” He smiles, unconcerned by the look I sent him.
I follow him out of our apartment and toward the pizza place that’s close enough to walk to. Thank God for college towns.
“So, do you have to go get your books? I’m planning on grabbing mine tomorrow, if you wanna catch a ride with me,” I offer, knowing full well that Marcus hasn’t gotten his books.
Luckily, classes here at Sacramento State don’t start for another week.
“Sounds good, man.”
We walk into the restaurant and wait in the long line of other college students who have moved back this week and are unpacking and getting settled before the new semester begins.
My last year. It feels good. I’m planning on going back to Kansas for grad school. Marcus, having grown up with me in Kansas, has come to love California. Either that, or his college girlfriend, whom he met freshman year, is not willing to leave. I’m sure they will figure it out. He and Lena are good together, so I am happy for him.
Marcus clears his throat, as if to get my attention. “So, what would you say if I told you that Lena had a friend she wanted to set you up with?”
What? I nearly choke on the pizza in my mouth. “Well, I’d say there’s no way in hell. No offense to Lena, of course.”
He looks a little disappointed but not at all surprised. “Man, it’s been too long. You’ve gotta let her go…” He trails off, knowing that topic is off-limits.
I feel like crap, knowing that they mean well by trying to get me out of my no-relationship policy.
I bite the bullet. “Tell you what. Once school begins this semester, I’ll meet this girl. But under no circumstances will I go on any awkward dates with this chick, okay? We can all go to a party or something.”
Marcus smiles immediately.
What the hell have I just gotten myself into?
After moving to California and the whole Dannie situation, my best friend applied to California’s Sacramento State University. Luckily for me, Marcus was always brilliant at school and was willing to move in with me. He graduated early and got accepted easily.
I really needed him that first year after Dannie had left me. I was a wreck.
I had decided to stick with my original plan to attend Sac State simply because it was close to my family, it had the major I wanted, and most importantly, Dannie said she wasn’t going here. After she broke off our relationship, I called her every day for the rest of the summer, trying to reason with her and get her to reconsider her sudden change of heart. Calling seemed better at the time. I didn’t want to show up at her doorstep like a deranged ex, and I drew the line at stalking her.
I heard from Melody that she got a job that summer, working almost every moment she could. Dannie apparently also stopped hanging out with everyone important to her, becoming a recluse who rarely went out. She cut everyone off, not just me, which seriously worried her closest friends and family.
Dannie had always been independent and aloof, but never had she cut all ties completely with the people who cared for her most—well, until that summer. We all called one another the first few months, trying to figure it out, trying different methods to get through to her, but nothing worked. Eventually, I stopped trying. I’m not sure about the others, but I wasn’t going to force someone to love me back.
I’m not proud to say that I walked away. A person can only handle so much rejection. By the end of the summer, I decided that I would try to move on the best I could. So, when I heard that Dannie had changed her college to San Francisco State, I was relieved but heartbroken all over again. It felt like the end. Like a book that suddenly shut, there was a feeling of finality to it.
I knew I needed to move on. I tried the only ways I could think of. I stayed busy, didn’t think about it, dated other people but didn’t fall in love again, didn’t think about it, stayed busy—well, you get the idea.
“Want to hit the gym?” Marcus says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
How someone can eat that much pizza and then work out without throwing it all up is beyond me, but I find myself agreeing anyway.
As we’re walking, I decide to rile him up, considering I sort of agreed to a blind date and all. “Ask Lena to marry you yet?” I smile at him and wink.
I’m not gonna lie. I’m super jealous he has someone. Lena is a great girl. She’s really sweet, and she obviously loves Marcus.
“Not yet. I’m thinking right after graduation…”
I snap my head up to search his face, only finding complete sincerity. Not what I expected. I’m not shocked per se, but I asked the question as a joke, so I’m taken a little off guard.
Wow.
“That’s great, man. I’m happy for you. Although I don’t know what she sees in you, man…” I am completely joking, but it doesn’t stop him from forcefully punching me in the arm.
Marcus is a one-of-a-kind sort of friend, more like a brother. I’m lucky to have him. He’s a great-looking guy, and he has always gotten attention from women. I originally thought, when he came to Cali, he would be a bit of a ladies’ man. But, at one of the first parties our freshman year, he ran into a girl from class and hit it off. The rest is history.
“You cool with that?”
I know he is referring to my aversion to relationships and my lack of anything remotely romantic—unless you consider the occasional one-night stand romantic. And let’s face it; that would be a hell no.
Serious for a moment, I reply, “Of course. I want you to be happy.” And I mean it. No one deserves happiness more. Just because I don’t believe in it anymore doesn’t mean I don’t want it for him.
I head through the gym doors, cutting off the direction this conversation has taken.
Marcus takes the hint. “So, vet science, huh? Have you decided on where you’re applying?” He makes small talk. He can sense when I’m brooding, and as per usual, he tries to pull me out of it as we
begin our reps.
“Yeah, I’ve applied to Kansas and a few schools in SoCal.” Listening to the words I use, I can hear the influence of Cali. I cringe slightly before shaking my head while trying to concentrate on working out instead.
We are both over six feet and athletically inclined, so we are equally matched for spotting, and I constantly find myself in need of an outlet for my anger and frustration. Needless to say, we find ourselves here a lot.
I’m late!
How is it that, when you wake up early for your first day of work, you still end up late?
I grip my coffee as I step inside the classroom on my first day as a teaching assistant, or TA. I am nervous but hope it doesn’t show as I quickly find my seat. I set my coffee down on the desk, avoiding the eyes of the students already in their seats, while Professor Williams writes on the board. He glances over at me with one raised bushy eyebrow as a warning. We just met only last week, so this is a poor first impression of my work ethic.
Here goes nothing.
I guess I’ll have to double my efforts at earning his trust and respect now.
Why did my car choose today to not start? That’s what I get for buying a cheap beater car that was more fuel-efficient than my old truck.
I smooth down my slightly wrinkled button-up, hoping it doesn’t look ridiculous on me. I feel like a tool, wearing something that is so not me. I went all out, even wearing old-man loafer-type shoes instead of my usual shitkickers, like I’m some sort of hipster. My sister would laugh if she saw me looking like a Cali native. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin.
After a few deep breaths, trying to calm my frantic heart, I finally start chugging my much-needed coffee. Listening to the prof go over the syllabus as well as his expectations for British Literature, I get a little antsy. It’s not my favorite topic, but I desperately need the extra income because student loans aren’t cutting it, especially now that my car has gone haywire.
For many, Brit Lit is a requirement to complete their undergrad, but some are truly interested in majoring in English or Literature. Either way, I will have to read quite a few extra books this semester in order to grade their essays and exams.
You gotta do what you gotta do.
I have finally settled in enough to attempt a cursory glance at the students in the nine a.m. class, hoping to find a girl worth the time I’ll be spending here or at least avoiding one with whom I have a history not worth repeating. I slowly make my way through the students, deciphering which ones are here for credits and which ones are here for their love of literature.
My eyes suddenly glimpse a familiar face that makes me choke. A hard pair of azure eyes are locked on mine with an expression that freezes my heart.
Dannie. Here. In my class. My Dannie.
No, not my Dannie. She left me. She wanted nothing to do with me.
She. Left. Me.
Scolding myself, I stare for longer than is appropriate, but I don’t care. It’s Dannie.
My stomach is slowly tying in knots as I steal a glance at a beautiful woman who is a phantom of a girl I once knew. She seems to be shocked, frightened, and maybe even regretful. I can’t be sure.
I first take note that her hair is just above her shoulders. No longer does her hair freely flow to her waist. This chick has a stylish yet sophisticated style that is not at all like Dannie’s carefree demeanour that I once loved. I take in a curvy figure that has filled in, changing a teenager into a woman who takes my breath away. I’m more than a little preoccupied with her body when I force my eyes to snap back to a face that is all too familiar. What was once the fresh face of a teen is now shadowed in makeup in such a way that suggests a pro went all out.
I can’t imagine Dannie doing her makeup every day. The thought is ludicrous. It can’t be her. Yet those eyes…those eyes seem filled with recognition as they widen slightly.
She appears to be as startled as I feel, and she looks away. It’s then that I notice a slow blush on her skin.
It’s her. It really is Dannie Lee. In this classroom. My classroom!
The pain I have been unconsciously suppressing, the anger from a bitter rejection, rises in my throat until it feels like I’m frozen by it. I realize I’m breathing hard, practically panting, with my hands curled into fists.
Keep it together, Reed. Keep your shit together.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to look away, as I mentally absorb the reality that I am a TA in a class that Dannie is in. I must stay impartial. I cannot afford to lose this job. All the other jobs around campus have been filled by now, and if my car is not going to be functional, then I can’t financially afford to lose this job.
She’s just a girl. Just like any other girl. Nothing special about this one.
Even as I think it, the thought stills in my brain, as if dead. It’s so far from the truth, and there’s no point in lying to myself.
She was everything to me, everything I wanted, everything I’d naively hoped for. What a lovesick fool I once was. What a ridiculous pipe dream. I was forced to be a realist the day she left me, ripping my heart to pieces.
Truthfully, I have never been the same.
Well, sweetheart, there’s nothing left for you to break, so you can just move along. Thanks.
I let my bitterness bleed into the recesses of my body, giving me resolve. Anger is my best weapon against other emotions. That’s all I will allow myself to feel. I refuse to be attracted to her. I refuse to close my eyes because her face is all I will see. The girl in the white dress on a picnic blanket no longer exists.
And as the prof excuses the class, I stand, walking away from her this time without so much as a backward glance.
Payback’s a cruel bitch, princess.
After years of escaping the past, Danielle Lee decides to return home where she is confronted with facing the people she left behind, including Reed Fischer.
For four years, Reed has been trying to get over his first love, but that feat is made impossible when Dannie unexpectedly walks back into his life. Trying his best to move on, Reed ignores her existence, but she’s suddenly everywhere he is.
A friendship blossoms…until feelings start to blur. Remnants of how they used to be together are still there, but Reed can’t forget how much Dannie hurt him when she left, and Dannie is still struggling with her secretive history while living with the aftermath of an assault by an obsessed stalker.
With the help of her best friends, Melody and Jemma, Dannie is on the path to healing…until the past meets the present, and she comes face-to-face with the one person she hoped never to see again.
The Face Beneath shares the tale of a young woman trying to overcome a traumatic childhood while living with PTSD, but with the love and support of her friends, she finds hope and the courage to face her past, confront her fears, and live again.
The Face You See is my debut novel as a writer and inspired the following books of the series. I was born and raised in California where I began volunteering with Youth Programs dedicated to helping teens find mentors. Remembering how lost and confused I was as a teenager gave me the conviction to help those who felt just as alone as I had. I eventually began working in Alaska doing much of the same work before going to Haiti and the Aleutian Islands to build houses, distribute food and medical supplies, as well as disaster relief. I met my husband while working abroad and eventually settling down in Canada where we now have two beautiful children. I am thankful I escaped the circumstances of my childhood but acknowledge the fact that not everyone has the opportunity; most are left with lingering scars. This series captures that complex moment when a person finds the courage to let go of the painful circumstances of their life, the people that hurt them, and the guilt they feel by leaving while crossing over to accept themselves. My passion has always been to help, to serve, and to protect young women. By writing what I believe are messages of encouragement to those who have been in similar situations to those I have experienced and worked with, I believe t
hey can be given hope. I am currently getting a Bachelor's in English and Education at the University of Saskatchewan, and have always had a passion for books as well as writing stories.
I’d love to hear from my readers! Contact me at [email protected] or on my blog at amelialegend.blogspot.ca
I am also on Facebook and Instagram!
These are real letters from real woman who have sent me their stories to share with all of you! They have not been altered, edited, or changed in any way, and if you have a story of your own to share, email me at [email protected].
Anonymous, Canada, 30 years old
I wanted to grow up. I was only thirteen. The boys we hung out with would try to give us girls 'tatty-twisters' and chase us. The bugged me that I was flat. No kidding I was flat I barely had hit puberty!
I had won a volley ball game that day; was excited and came home elated. I remember my brothers friend giving me extra attention following me around the house. I didn't think anything of it. Then he followed me to bed and closed the door. At first I thought maybe this meant that he liked me, or that this is just what boys do when you are when you 'grow up'. At first I thought it would be ok. He began 'tickling' me, but could tell I wasn't into it. But he didn't stop. He continued to touch me. I froze. I just said 'ow'. I wish I would have said something like "stop", or done something. I knew I had to get out. I pretended I had to pee and left eventually. I left the door open and pretended to be tired and sleep.He kept asking for me to close the door, as my parents were home. At first I thought maybe this was just how it was supposed to be, but deep down I knew it was different. I didn't want this. I felt sick. The smell of him made me want to vomit. I hated him. I felt used, defeated, broken. Growing up was supposed to be sexy, this sure felt nothing like that.
I don't hate him still, I found the grace to forgive him years ago. But I still see a thread of the effects it had on me. I no longer would be the victim, I would be the initiator. I wouldn't be vulnerable in any sexual situations I found myself. My body was all guys wanted anyway, wasn't it? My body, became all that mattered. To the point of making myself vomit after meals, and using exercise as a punishment for eating. I would control my weight because life was out of control and plus that is where my value lied.
The Face You See Page 19
