Shallow

by Yessi Smith

  Everything around me was wet – the cold ground, my sheets, and myself. At least, I’d gotten up in the middle of the night to put my bag of clothes, my book bag, and my phone on higher ground when the rain started careening in. But I’d been too tired to look for another spot to lie in.

  Grabbing my phone, I turned off the alarm. It had half battery left. Hopefully my homeroom teacher would let me leave it with her to charge for the day again.

  I took off the wet clothes that clung to me like second skin and dried myself with the towel that was still wet and cold from the dropping temperature last night. After putting on clean clothes, I brushed my teeth using a bottle of water to rinse my mouth and put on deodorant. Lifting both my arms, I sniffed, hoping I didn’t smell like the desperation I felt.

  I still had a few hours before I had to be at school, so I started doing the homework I hadn’t finished at the laundromat yesterday. There wasn’t much left and I finished it quickly which left me with some time to waste before I had to start walking to school.

  After grabbing a granola bar, I went to the wall furthest from my bed, so I could continue writing what I started the night before last.

  It was my mark on a world that seemed to stop caring about me when my world fell apart. Sure, it was my parents who’d died, but they took me with them, or at least they took the good, working parts of me. All that was left was the gnawing anger I couldn’t rid myself of.

  Words had a way of calming me though, of helping me make sense of the nonsensical. So I wrote, anywhere and everywhere. The wall was my latest project. I promised myself I’d fill the cave with myself, so anyone who ventured inside would know me. Know that once I had existed. That once I had mattered to two people who would always matter the most to me.

  When I got to the wall, I sucked in a sharp breath and stared at the feminine handwriting beneath my own words. Neat, tidy, perfect. Each word was probably thought out, mulled over before she wrote her poem beneath mine. Or maybe it was a spontaneous reaction to my words. A warning of sorts.

  A broken soul

  can turn cold.

  No one can make it alone.

  Except I had been making it alone for years. Whoever wrote the poem didn’t understand the peace found in being alone. Even on the best days, I still missed my parents. Always would. But that’s why alone fit me so well.

  Not in the cramped house I lived in with my aunt. Where she asked too many questions and left even more unanswered. She cared about me, but not enough to dig and expose all the ugly, shattered pieces.

  A broken soul

  I wondered if she knew what it truly meant to be broken. To have nothing or no one to call your own. To live in a home that wasn’t yours. In a body that wrapped around your bones too tight, suffocating everything until you couldn’t breathe. Until even your heart wanted to give up.

  Even though I didn’t know her, the girl behind the broken soul, I didn’t want her to give up. Whether she was younger or older than me, I wanted her to live.

  With fingers numb from the blinding cold, I grabbed my black marker. I imagined her fingers wrapped around it, leaving her own mark in my life. Already, I felt better knowing I wasn’t alone. The loner who sought solitude, wasn’t alone, but had a faceless friend who felt as drained in existence as I did.

  A broken soul

  but not an empty shell.

  The human heart

  YOUR heart

  beats with everlasting resiliency.

  With threads of strength

  sew yourself back together.

  You can do it alone

  or we can do it together.

  I stared at my words, hoped it brought her strength to fight whatever she was up against. And I hoped she’d fight with me. So, I wouldn’t have to be as alone as I kept telling myself I wanted to be.

  Last night was one of the worst. My mom shrieked from her room. Her cries echoed into the hall while her fist slammed against the wall. Even two rooms down, I heard her. Heard my dad try to calm her. And for what? In a month, maybe less or more, he’d be gone. And it would just be my mom and me.

  It wouldn’t be like the nights he worked at the hospital. Those nights were hard, but at least they hadn’t been permanent. There’d always been the promise of his return. But now, there was no reprieve. There would be no placating her. Just more bruises from trying. While my dad wore most of the bruises, I had my share. Once he was gone, no longer a buffer between us, the scars would all belong to me.

  I buried my head beneath my pillow, slapped my hands over my ears. Still, I could hear her.

  But no one heard me. No one heard my cries, my wails, my sobs of injustice. Only hers.

  My dad’s red-rimmed eyes greeted me as he handed me a cup of coffee. Averting my eyes, I took it from him and poured it in a travel mug. With my book bag hanging over my shoulder, I kissed his cheek and made my way to the door without either of us saying a word.

  I paused at the entrance, took in my dad—his wrinkled clothes, the frown etched across his face, and the way his shoulders slumped down in defeat.

  “Love you,” I said when I pulled the door open.

  “Think about what I said last night,” he called after me. “It can be just you and me, kid.”

  I shook my head, sadness sinking into my skin, into my soul.

  “Love you, sweet girl,” he said as I closed the door.

  His voice sounded the same as I felt.

  Lost. So damn lost and sad. Broken.

  Not able to wait until school finished, I drove to the park. In my car, I waited in front of a large tree on the opposite side where Roderick would cross when he made his way to school. Once I saw him, his figure in nothing but a short sleeve shirt and shorts huddled against the freezing wind, I waited for him to round the corner so I could drive to my spot.

  I parked without looking around and sprinted toward the cave. My cave, his cave. Ours.

  I was out of breath by the time I made it and was taken aback when I saw wet clothes and sheets draped over rocks. I hadn’t even realized I was standing in a puddle until I looked down. It’d rained last night, but stuck in my own misery, I hadn’t thought about how it would affect Roderick.

  Shame slammed into me. It wasn’t a foreign emotion to me, but it was a bitter one to swallow.

  Roderick had slept here, cold and wet while I cried myself in and out of sleep in my warm bed. It wasn’t fair. None of it was.

  Without thinking, I took his wet clothes, his sheets and pillow case, leaving the wet pillow drying on a rock and hiked the two miles back to my car to drive home.

  By the time I made it home, my dad had left for work, and I was six minutes away from being late for homeroom. Not wanting to worry my dad with an unexpected call from the office, I sent him a quick text.

  Me: Not feeling great… sore throat and headache. Came back home to rest. I’ll head back to school later today when I’m feeling better.

  I tossed Roderick’s laundry in the washing machine and added detergent before closing the lid on the quickest cycle.

  Dad: Stay home if you’re not feeling well. School will still be there tomorrow. Or next week.

  I grinned.

  Me: A week?!? Think of all the work and gossip I’d miss. Wait… don’t think about it! I’m already breaking out in hives.

  Leaving everything in the wash, I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of orange juice and mentally kicked myself. In my haste to clean Roderick’s clothes and sheets, I hadn’t looked at the wall to see if he’d written me back. All I could think about was making sure by the time he got back from school his stuff was clean and dry. Without ever knowing it was me helping him—the girl he called princess with such heated hatred.

  I didn’t know his situation, why he wasn’t living with his aunt anymore, and maybe I was out of line in grabbing his belongings, but at the moment it felt like the right thing to do.

  An incoming text went off on my phone.

  Dad: How�
��d I end up with a kid with such a smart mouth?

  Dad: Seriously, listen to your old man. Stay home and rest. I’ll bring home some antibiotics in case you need them

  My dad, the doctor, who prescribed antibiotics to his daughter without even looking me over. For all he knew, it was my time of month and cramps were raking over my body. But then again, I’d never stayed home from school unless I had a fever or some sort of stomach flu. Even then I argued I had to go to school. Because home… most days, was hell in and of itself.

  Me: Thanks, Dad. Now go be a doctor and save some lives or something

  Dad: Cape on. Time to be a hero

  Rolling my eyes, I snorted.

  I settled on the couch with my glass of juice and a book I’d been wanting to read. The words merged together, making them more than words but a life, a new one that now belonged to me. I became the heroine, living a life so different than mine. Not better or worse, but different – with its own struggles, with love and sadness, laughter and tears. By the time the washing machine dinged, the hero looked a lot like Roderick.

  Setting the book down, I shook my head as I made my way to the laundry room where I transferred all of Roderick’s stuff in the dryer and again set it to go through a quick cycle.

  My mind, relentless in so many ways, kept circling around Roderick and why I’d made him out to be a hero of any sorts. Especially mine.

  We didn’t like each other. Not anymore. Not for years.

  We weren’t friends, barely spoke unless it was to toss insults at one another.

  Yet I’d found solace in him. In his words. So much so, that I was no longer angry at him for taking my safe haven, but worried. With his name and face floating in my mind, I made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And then another one. I grabbed him some snacks, including apples and pears that were once his favorite.

  I wondered if they still were. Or if, because of me, we’d drifted so far apart that I no longer knew anything about him. Just as he no longer knew anything about me.

  But words. We had that in common. Something we hadn’t shared before.

  With food and clean clothes and one of my pillows in two garbage bags, I sent my dad a text to let him know I was heading to school and then made my way back to the cave. After putting everything on a rock so it wouldn’t get wet, I went to the wall. Our wall where our hearts bled freely, uniting us.

  A broken soul

  but not an empty shell.

  The human heart

  YOUR heart

  beats with everlasting resiliency.

  With threads of strength

  sew yourself back together.

  You can do it alone

  or we can do it together.

  Tears swam behind my eyes and I let them fall. One after the other, they swam down my cheek and dropped from my chin to the ground. I didn’t swat them away or wish them into inexistence. Because this time I wasn’t alone. I had Roderick.

  I had his words.

  “So happy you could join us today,” Mr. Scott said as soon as I slipped into class, over twenty minutes late.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, keeping my head down, my eyes downcast. They were still red from the tears I’d shed at the cave and then again in my car. My skin looked too pale and my hands were shaking. I’d tried touching up the makeup I’d applied earlier that morning, but really all I cared about was getting to this class so I could see Roderick.

  “Wasn’t feeling that great,” I said.

  I sat down in front of Roderick’s table and after taking out my folder, I turned to face him. Angry eyes bore in to me, so I looked back down, letting my hair hide my face and took out the paper we were supposed to work on.

  “Sorry I’m late. Were you able to get anything done without me?” I whispered.

  “No,” he ground out.

  With my head still tipped down, I peered up at him to see the muscles on his jaw tick.

  “It’s a group project, princess. I don’t give out free rides and I’m not working on it without you.”

  “Sorry,” I repeated under my breath.

  Beside me, Danny looped an arm over my shoulder as he pressed a kiss to the side of my head. I leaned into him, into his strong embrace.

  “You okay?” Danny asked.

  I nodded.

  “We only have a few minutes before class is over,” Roderick hissed. “Think we can get some work done?”

  “Hey man,” Danny said. “Lay off her. She’s having a tough time.”

  “Having a tough time?” He barked out a laugh. It was harsh and coiled around me, tightening around my skin and bones.

  “Yes.” I snapped my head up. Our eyes crashed against one another and he took a sharp inhale when he saw me. With my chin sticking out, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and stood up. “Even the shallow princess has feelings. Shocking, isn’t it?”

  Grabbing my book bag, I stuffed my work in it and left with Mr. Scott calling my name. I ignored him. Ignored the curious looks from my classmates. When I heard the door open and close behind me, I expected Danny to be the one who followed me.

  Not Roderick. Never Roderick.

  But it was Roderick’s hand that landed tentatively on my shoulder. His fingers that dug into my skin when he stood in front of me. His pleading eyes that asked too many questions.

  I blinked back the tears, swallowed past the lump in my throat.

  “Brinley.” He said my name so quietly I wasn’t sure if he’d actually spoken or if I’d imagined it.

  I stared at his unmoving lips.

  “Brinley.” This time his lips moved and I moved with them.

  I wrapped my arms around his waist, not sure if he’d welcome the embrace. Part of me wanted him to shove me away, but when his hands snaked across my back, I rested my head against his chest where I listened to the steady beat of his heart. Only it didn’t remain steady. While his arms locked behind me in a secure hug, his chest heaved as his heart picked up a rapid rate.

  I kissed his chest and pulled away with a somber smile playing on my lips. “I’m sorry.”

  He caressed my face with the back of his hand. “That’s four times you’ve apologized today.”

  I laughed. “And to think, princesses don’t apologize. Guess that means I’ve been dethroned.”

  He searched my face, his eyes dancing across my features, but he wouldn’t find what he was looking for. Not when I had to shut down before I let him in any further.

  “I-I shouldn’t have hugged you.” I stared at my shoes as I schooled my expression. “That was a mistake, but you came after me.” My voice broke. “Don’t come after me again, Roderick.”

  “Right.” He shifted from one foot to the other. They were covered in mud, probably still wet. “Why can’t I go after you again? We used to be friends. Even if I hate you, I hate seeing you hurting even more.”

  I flinched at his words. He hated me. Hated. And I deserved it. I’d done everything to push away the people who would look too closely. Because no one could know what I tried so desperately to hide. No one.

  “Brin.” Danny came beside me. I went into his open arms, buried my face in his chest.

  “We’re not friends,” I told Roderick.

  We couldn’t be. I knew his secret, and it’d be safe with me. I’d never tell a soul and would do whatever I could to help him without him knowing. But my secrets? I didn’t trust them with anyone.

  I dreaded lunchtime, something I’d never hated before, but today was different. I didn’t want to sit with my friends. I didn’t want to sit alone either. Alone was the enemy.

  Roderick’s words, his written promise, to fight with me, ran in my head as I stood in line for a turkey burger. Absently, I put a hand in the front pocket of my jeans to touch the paper I’d written his poem on. It brought me strength. Made me want more for myself, from myself. I wanted to fight with him just as badly as I’d wanted to stay in his arms.

  But he hated me.

  And I hated me.<
br />
  More than that, I hated what I might become. I had to keep pretending though, keep pushing.

  “Hey Brinley, you okay?” I spun around to find Seth’s worried gaze on me.

  “Yeah, thanks.” I licked my lips. “I’m sorry, you know? Of course you don’t.” I shook my head on a humorless laugh. “Why would you know I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been mean to you, but I am, Seth. So sorry. That’s not me. Or it is.” Another laugh. “But it also isn’t.”

  His brows drew together, eyes boring into me as if he were trying to figure me out. “It’s okay. I’m an easy target.” He shrugged his shoulders as if that made everything my friends and I had done to him and to others like him alright.

  “You’re one of the good ones.” I turned around and followed the line forward before I peered back at him. “Not at all like me or my friends,” I added.

  He smiled and nodded. Maybe he understood, maybe he got it better than me.

  After paying for lunch, I went outside where I normally sat with my group of friends, but rather than going to them, I stood there. Frozen.

  From our table, Danny watched me. Patiently waited for me to make a decision. He’d mentioned earlier he didn’t want to sit at our regular table, but again I had insisted. And now… now indecision warred.

  “If you want, you can sit with us,” Seth offered, his voice shaking with nerves.

  “Why would you want me to sit with you?”

  “I think… I think you’re one of the good ones too.”

  My hands shook around my tray and God, I wanted to hug him. Tell him how badly I wanted that to be true.

  “I’m not,” I replied, “but I’m going to start trying to be.”

  He inclined his head to the side, another invitation to join him and his friend Jeremy. A slow smile creeped across Danny’s face. Even though he sat at our regular table, if I went with Seth, I knew he’d follow. Licking my lips again, I took a deep breath. I could do this. Sit with the kids everyone made fun of. Open myself up to ridicule.