As the two women kissed again, I eased out of the room. Seeing the love between them, the dedication to the other, the steadfast way they supported each other and their relationship made me a little sad. I thought I had had that kind of love with Mike—that intense, once in a lifetime bond. But then he had found out about my scars, the ones I carved into my own skin with a razor blade when I struggled to cope with life. When he judged me because of them, I saw a side of him I didn’t know existed. And I hadn’t liked it.
Instead of talking to me, he had declared me damaged, said that something was wrong with me. He later apologized but the look of judgment on his face and the accusation in his eyes that day would never be forgotten. We broke up soon after. If Shane saw my scars beneath the tattoos that covered them now, he never said. My gut told me he wouldn’t care anyway.
I stood at the window that overlooked the grassy backyard, intermingled with weeds and dry patches where the sun didn’t reach. It was getting dark, dusk casting the trees, sparse shrubs, and periphery in shadow. The skunk was back, sniffing around the garbage can. Janie had put a rubber belt around it so he couldn’t open it and hurl trash all over the backyard again. But he gave it a good try before slinking back into the woods.
I chewed my thumbnail, fatigue threatening to wash over me. It had been a long, long day—several long, long days. My life was in a good place. A pretty good place, at least. Jess was struggling, but I was there to help and loved Jacob like he was my own nephew. I had a good job as assistant manager at the shelter. I was in the college of my choice and had a boyfriend who treated me exactly how I deserved to be treated.
But something was…off. Maybe it was Mom’s psychiatrist calling. Or Mike’s text. I still hadn’t heard from him after I told him I would meet. What did that mean? Was he kidding me? That wasn’t like the Mike I knew, so he was probably just busy. The soccer team took up most of his free time. But then again, the Mike I had started dating was different from the Mike that I had left.
Maybe it was just extreme fatigue. My mind felt hazy. I couldn’t focus on any one thought or feeling. Something was changing. I just wasn’t sure what. I sighed and went to feed the only macaw we’d ever had at the shelter.
When I walked back to the front, I almost ran into Jess standing in the reception area of the shelter. She was talking to Janie, Jacob on her hip gnawing a teething ring. My best friend was already dressed for a night out in ripped black leggings, the same tight mini-skirt from last night, and a black shirt.
Her blonde hair stood up all around her head like a halo, and she had even dip-dyed the tips black to match her clothes. With huge blue eyes unmasked by thick glasses and a long skinny frame, she could be a model. But she had so much makeup on, she looked more like a starving Goth warrior princess.
“Why are you here?” Something not good made my words come out sharper than I meant. For reasons I couldn’t quite acknowledge, I braced myself for a new slew of Jess requests.
When Jacob saw me, he reached out, willing me to take him. I didn’t lift my arms, my defenses keeping them by my side. Jacob was adamant, trying to wiggle free and Jess finally thrust him at me.
“I’m heading out early,” she said. “Can you watch him?” A moment of strained silence hung in the air.
“No. I can’t take Jacob now. I have to work.” I tried to push him back into her arms, but he grabbed a fistful of my hair and wouldn’t let go.
“Come on, Ro. I have to get out of that apartment. And look.” She waved a hand at me, her face bright and eager, but not in a good way. “He’s so happy with you. He’ll be fine. You have, what, like a couple of hours or something until you can go home?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I get off in an hour, but I can’t watch your son while I’m here. Just so you can go out. No way.” Jacob started sucking on the end of my hair, and I cringed.
Anger flashed over her face. “God, Ro, I thought you said you would help.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not helping? All of these nights when I should be sleeping or writing papers or studying, or God forbid, hanging out with my boyfriend, I wasn’t helping you instead?”
If eyes could throw darts, hers would’ve. I knew my own were a mirror-image. “I can’t believe you said that,” she seethed. “Don’t I deserve a break?”
I glared at her, the stress in my neck jerking painfully to attention. I tried to rub my muscles with my free hand but Jacob started slapping me in the face, and I had to restrain his arm.
After several tense moments, her shoulders fell and she sighed as she looked back at me, her expression pained, distraught. Then that expression disappeared. What replaced it was what I could only describe as a blank slate. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Rowan. Not everyone can be perfect.”
My mouth fell open. My lips moved except no words came out. She was joking, right? She was trying to pull one over on me.
“Look,” she said, her voice gruff. “I’m sorry.” She yanked Jacob out of my arms, pulling strands of my hair with him. “I’ll meet you at home.”
Without waiting for a response, she stomped out the door. I stared after her for several minutes, my mind, and my heart, a jumbled mess—uncertain, unsure, and definitely a little afraid. What was wrong with my best friend?
LATER THAT night, Jacob was asleep but his snores were loud and congested, wafting through the opened door to his and Jess’s room. I was sitting on my bed, laptop opened, English Lit book opened, but my mind closed off to anything to do with this assignment. After an hour of staring at the blinking cursor, I got off my bed and walked around the small bedroom.
The apartment came unfurnished, but Jess and I managed to find cheap furniture at Goodwill. The bed I slept on had no frame, but I didn’t care. The mattress was comfortable, and I had never slept as well as I did in our apartment. It was a perfect home for the three of us. Both Jess and I came from not-so-desirable childhoods, and we were committed to creating our own little family, and home, here. We were fine.
Somehow, though, things didn’t seem fine.
Shane opted out of another babysitting session and I didn’t blame him, though I did miss him. We first met when I was living at Mike’s house. Mike was away at college and we were still together as a couple, but had started drifting apart. That was when I decided not to go to the same school as Mike and had researched other options. I landed at Berkeley Mountain College where I met Shane.
We didn’t start dating, though, until the beginning of this semester. It had only been two months, but he had grown into one of the brightest points in my life. I could’ve said the same about Mike when we first started dating.
When Mike and I broke up, I felt like a part of me had been carved out with a scalpel and discarded. Even though we hadn’t been together long, he had helped spur such a major turning point in my life, I felt like he was a part of my soul. And when he walked out of my life, part of my soul felt like it had died.
It took another chance meeting with Shane during orientation to set the healing process in motion. I was already standing on my own two feet and doing well. It was Shane’s deep dimples and ready smile that helped bring me full circle.
So why did my breath still catch when I thought about Mike?
I shook my head. Those thoughts were unwelcome. The past was the past. We could be friends and no more.
I forced my mind to focus on Shane and when I did, a smile spread across my face. Maybe it was time to take our relationship to the next level. Seal the deal, so to speak. That might take my mind off Mike once and for all. The thought made my stomach tighten into a ball, slightly pained, slightly jittery.
Deep in thought, I had to scramble to find my cell when it started ringing.
“Hello?”
“Rowan?”
When I heard the unexpected voice on the other end, I nearly walked into my dresser.
“It’s Mike.”
After several swallows, I found my voice. “Hi. Um, how are you?” Did he have a
sixth sense or something? Or was it a strange coincidence that he called just as I was planning the next phase in my relationship with Shane?
“Doing good. I’m just hanging out. The house is quiet, and I thought I’d give you a call.” There was a pause. “I hope that’s okay.”
It was more than okay. But I bit the inside of my cheek and didn’t let those unexpected words out into the air. Shane was my boyfriend. Not Mike. What was it about this guy and why could he alter my mind, and heart’s trajectory, with a simple phone call?
“Rowan?”
“Hmm?” I scrambled to remember his last words. “Yes. Of course. It’s fine. Can you hold on a minute?”
“Sure.”
I laid the phone down on the nightstand and pushed my bedroom door shut with a soft click. “Sorry about that.” I sat on the floor with my back against the bed and my feet pushed against the wall.
“Is it a bad time?”
“No. I’m babysitting Jess’s little boy, and he’s asleep. I just wanted to shut my door.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Jacob.”
“How old is he now?”
“Five months, almost six. He is the cutest little thing but all he does is cry and keep us up all night. Every night.”
“Yikes. Is he okay?”
“He just cries a lot. Jess is about to pull her hair out. Literally.”
“That’s tough. I can’t even imagine.”
I laughed and something exploded inside of me, sending bursts of bubbles, and guilt, soaring through my bloodstream. “It’s okay. How are you? How’s school?”
“Tough. We got a new soccer coach.”
“You did? Why?”
“I guess our old one was having too much fun with our female trainer.”
“You’re kidding.” Was this the same trainer I’d gotten so jealous over last year?
“Nope. But the new coach just isn’t the same. I don’t know. Life changes, right?”
I tried to form a giggle, to let this statement not sink its black roots into our conversation, but I couldn’t. So much of life had changed when I met Mike and then again when we broke up. Finally, I said, “Yes. Life changes.”
Silence blanketed the phone line. I ran my toe over the drab beige wall.
“How are classes going?” he asked finally.
“College is tougher than I could’ve imagined. How about you?”
“No kidding. This year has not gotten off to the best start, for sure. The classes are hard, and I’m not sure I want to stick with my major.”
“Still political science?”
“Yeah, but it’s really boring. I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
“Don’t you want to go to law school anymore?”
“Nah. I can’t imagine being stuffed into a suit everyday for the rest of my life.”
Mike’s voice sounded weak, not shaky, but not solid and confident like it used to.
“I don’t know. I just miss when things were simpler, you know? When we were still in high school.”
Things were simpler when we were in high school? It was during my junior year, and his senior, when shit had hit the fan and targeted not only me, but him, too. Rape accusations, suicide attempts, devastating truths. Too much had happened to absorb, even after all this time.
But there was something unsettling about being a grown-up. Even though I was doing well, I worried about money, Jess, Jacob, my classes, my future. There seemed to be nowhere to safely land if I faltered. “I do know what you mean. We’re not kids anymore, are we?”
“No,” he sighed. “That we’re not.”
“Is everything okay? Besides just regular stress? You sound different.”
“Yeah,” he answered too quickly for me to believe him. “Well, I guess I better go.”
Brows pursed, I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.
“It was good to talk to you, Rowan.”
“I agree. It’s…nice to hear your voice.”
I was waiting for his goodbye when he said, “So we’d texted about getting together. How does Friday night work?”
There was a part of my heart that hurt at his interest in making plans. Last year, I could’ve used more enthusiasm in him wanting to see me. Strange he was making that effort now.
Those words didn’t leave my head, though. Instead, I said, “Friday works.” I chose not to dwell on the fact that Shane had already asked about spending the weekend together.
“Cool. I’ll text you Friday morning and we’ll work out the details.”
“Okay. See ya.” I stared out the window at the streetlight. The landlord finally replaced the bulb, making the new light seem blaring somehow.
Blood had long since left my feet and when I tried to stand, shots of tingling pain made me fall onto the bed. When my phone started to ring again, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I glanced down and saw it was Shane calling. But Jacob had started crying, and I let the phone go to voicemail.
EARLY THE next morning I crept out of bed and got ready for class without a sound. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up Jacob. There was a nagging feeling to check that Jess made it home before I left for the day. But her heavy boots were discarded in the middle of the living room so I knew she was here. I eased out of the apartment and took off toward campus. If I didn’t make progress with this paper, I was screwed.
Once at the library, I took the elevator to the fourth floor where there were only a handful of single desks tucked against the wall. They were obscured by massive shelves loaded with dusty old books. There was little natural light on this floor, the windows covered in an opaque finish. I liked it, though, and it was here I spent my time on campus if I wasn’t in lab or with Shane in the union.
The quiet and warmth surrounded me like I was sitting in a sauna, and I closed my eyes to better feel its comfort. Breathe in. Breathe out. I was trying deep breathing techniques, recommended by yoga-mad Tanya, and I was starting to think there was something to it. It helped me focus and void everything out. One could say my coping mechanisms had matured, I thought, as I glanced down at my arm. The poem that covered the scars, written by me and tattooed on the day I graduated high school, always brought a smile to my face. Who knew that something so ugly could become something so beautiful?
One day last May, when I was in the free clinic’s waiting room while Jess was being seen, a girl walked in. She had a white bandage around one of her wrists and creeping up her arm were more red scars than I could’ve imagined, certainly more than I had.
The need to go to her was almost too much to stand. I wanted to hug her, pull her into my arms, cry on her shoulder while she cried on mine. But I didn’t. She might not have welcomed the comfort. I might not have been strong enough to provide it. So I had sat on my hands, stealing glances her way. She never once looked up.
At one point, I shimmied out of my jacket and sat with my left arm turned out, showing off the tattoo that covered my own scars. If she saw it, I would never know. But I had to offer it, to show there was a future, there was a way to make the ugly lovely. There was hope.
Yes, I had come a long way. I felt strong and independent. Well, most days anyway. After another deep breath and long exhale, I wrote the opening paragraph, my mind clear and focused. I made more headway with the paper in the next hour than I had since I started. I left the library feeling optimistic and accomplished. Life wasn’t so hard. I would be more patient with Jess, help out more if she needed it. If I was doing fine and she was the one who needed help, well, what kind of friend would I be if I weren’t supportive?
HIS LIPS were like warm honey, lightly sprinkled with sugar and the sweetest nectar nature could make. Shane’s mouth had been on mine for too many minutes to count; his hands low on my hips. I pushed my body into his and molded myself against him. The breeze that blew over my skin was only part of the reason I had shivers.
Shane was a great kisser. I hadn’t kissed a lot of boys, but Shane was definitel
y in the top two. He approached kissing like he did life—slow, easy, and relaxed. It was a strange way to describe a kiss, but it was almost like he savored every moment and that knowledge made my lips tingle.
We were standing outside the music building. We’d be late for class if we didn’t break this kiss. But breaking it was proving harder than either of us expected. If he noticed a new energy, a new need inside of me, he didn’t say. He just responded. In a good way.
“I missed you last night.” His breath was warm and fresh, mixing with mine.
“I missed you, too.” My own voice was deeper than usual.
“Get a room,” someone said. We pulled apart to see Shane’s friend, Joel, walking toward us. “Hey, Rowan,” he said.
“Hey, man.” Shane clapped him on the back when he walked up. I smiled in greeting.
“We’re going to be late. Are you coming?” he asked Shane.
“Sure.” Shane kissed my lips again, the light peck held none of the heat from a moment ago. “I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
Joel waved as they walked toward the entrance to the building. Shane’s hands were shoved in his pockets, pulling his jeans down over his hips. If his shirt was any shorter his underwear would be showing. What would it be like to feel so carefree?
I was lost watching him stroll away when my phone rang.
“Rowan Slone?” the person on the other end asked.
“Yep?” I couldn’t temper the irritation. Since Dad died last winter, I’d been getting scam calls about his so-called estate, his insurance policy, his time in the service. I used to be polite, sharing my grief even. Now it just annoyed me.
“This is Dr. Schweitzer.”
Shit. I closed my eyes.
“Do you have a minute?” Her voice was even and professional.
My Name Is Rowan: The Complete Rowan Slone Trilogy Page 40
