Alone (13 page)

“
What are you doing for Christmas?” I asked Sara.

“
I think I'm going to visit some family. What are you doing?”

“
I usually go down to the Salvation Army and pass out presents to the kids. I'll probably continue that tradition.”

“
You like volunteering then?”

“
Yeah, especially when it has to do with kids or the homeless people within New Jollie. It’s something I’ve always enjoyed.”

Sara didn’t stay long today. Her visits have been getting shorter and shorter over the past month. The only reason I didn’t interrogate her on what she was doing was because she was looking better with each time I saw her. I figured wherever she was going and whatever she was doing, it was helping her heal.

I used to have all these fantasies about when I would give my Serenity the journal. When Sara refused, it was a big blow, although I understood why she said I should keep it. I wasn’t so sure that keeping it was the best idea, I was over that chapter of my life, and I had real people I could talk to and confide it. I wasn’t so alone anymore and I didn’t know if I really wanted something tangible to remind me of that part of my life. I decided to put it inside my box until I could figure out what to really do with it.

The next day, my mother called while I getting ready to leave. She apologized for Thanksgiving and I told her that it wasn’t okay but I was over it. She asked me to come down to her place for Christmas, but I couldn’t do it. I told her that I already had plans and that I would come down sometime soon. I didn’t really feel guilty lying to her, she had done her fair share of lying in the past.

Surprisingly, when I got off the phone with her, I wasn’t as angry as I usually was. I didn’t feel that same urge to cut like I had done so many times in the past. All I really wanted to do was get out of the house and get some coffee at the local beanery. I called Aaron to see if he wanted to come with me and he said that he would meet me there.

It was snowing outside. The first snow of the year. It was beautiful watching the sunlight dancing off the snowflakes. Like glitter falling from the sky. Winter was my least favorite season for sure, but the first snowfall was always serene. There were a few kids along the side of the road dancing in the snow with their tongues out and their heads back. I don't ever remember doing that as a child. Winter was always a time to lock myself in the house and drink hot chocolate wrapped up in a blanket.

The Mud House was this cool little eclectic coffee shop with strange brews like Turtle Run and Energy Explosion. It was decorated with different warm tones and there were couches and recliners all around a wood-burning fireplace. I ordered my Caramel Mocha Blast and sat down on the comfortable couch, waiting for Aaron to show up.

When he finally arrived, his hair was wet from the snow outside. He ordered his coffee and came to sit with me. It was so strange thinking that three months ago, I really didn’t have anyone to call to meet with. I would be sitting here alone, drowning my sorrows in brown foam. So much has changed in such little time and I was finally in a place in my life that I could say I was happy.

Aaron and I talked for over an hour at The Mud House. It was kind of fun just gossiping about the other artists and Miss Morgan. We laughed about how I had never known her first name was Megan. All of her name plates and signatures said, Miss Morgan and I never bothered to ask her first name. Aaron told me that she had been called Miss Morgan since she was a little girl and it was more of a nickname than a formality.

When I went home, I was really thankful for having friends I could just have fun with. I thought I needed someone I could confide in and someone to help me get through my problems. I seemed to overlook the fact that you’re supposed to have fun with your friends too.

CHAPTER 10: REVELATION

Sara was sitting on my couch watching me paint. She seemed to be deep in thought and didn’t talk much. It allowed me to really focus on what I was doing and the painting was coming along quickly.

“
Will you tell me how it started?” Sara asked hesitantly, breaking the silence. I unsure what she meant until I followed her eyes to a scar that was exposed on my wrist. I moved my arm to hide what she had already seen and went to join her on the couch, thinking if I could tell her. “Sometimes, saying it out loud makes the pain a little easier to live with,” she said encouragingly.

“
I was in ninth grade and it happened on accident really. I was making a sculpture in art class and I needed something to create very thin lines in the clay. Even the paper clip I had used was too thick. So when I was home I searched for something when I found a box of safety pins. I took a few and shoved them in my pocket before leaving for school,” I stopped to look at Sara's curious eyes. She was leaning toward me, and she nodded for me to continue.

“
I was in Chemistry and I felt an intense burning in my thigh. Every time I would move the feeling was overwhelming. I was shaking, I felt sick to my stomach all from the pain I was feeling. I thought about running to the bathroom but I didn't want to call attention to myself, so I stayed all through Chemistry class unable to concentrate on anything but the stabbing in my thigh. About halfway through the class, in some strange way the pain became pleasurable. It felt real.”

I couldn't look at Sara as I spoke, I just stared at my hands twisting in my lap. “When I went to the bathroom, and I saw the pinholes and the minuscule amount of blood, I just felt so alive. I can't even explain the adrenaline rush, the excitement that I felt at that moment. I had been walking around in a haze for so long, never feeling like I belonged, feeling so alone, the moment I saw the marks on my thigh, my only thought was 'I'm alive.'”

I looked up at Sara and saw a look on her face I couldn't quite decipher. Something between sadness and understanding was on her face, but there was something else there as well. It was something that compelled me to continue my story. “Well, it wasn't long after that when I started doing it on purpose. I used safety pins for a long time. Eventually I graduated to knives and razor blades. When it was really bad, I used lighters. I would light it and wait until the metal around the flame was unbearably hot and I would burn myself with the metal. That ended when I moved out of my mother's house right after graduation.”

“
What was the worst instance?” Sara asked in just above a whisper, her voice pained as she asked the question.

I thought for a moment and remembered the night before I went to talk with Mrs. Schneider for the first time. “My mother and I had been arguing one night. I don't even remember what it was about really. Something stupid most likely. It didn't take very much to set her off. She told me she hated me, that I was nothing. She had said this many times before, but it was the first time that I really believed her. I just remember being so angry and depressed, I locked myself in my room and I just kept cutting my arm. It was like no matter how many cuts I made, no matter how deep I went, it wasn't enough. I just couldn't feel it. I was completely numb and I just wanted to feel something. I kept going and going, I couldn't stop. I eventually passed out, and when I woke up the next day, I knew I had to get the cuts taken care of. I went to the hospital for the first and last time for the cutting. I spent the entire day talking with different people, evaluating me to see if I was stable enough to leave the hospital. Twenty-seven stitches and 6 hours later, I had somehow convinced them I was okay enough to leave. That was the worst of it. I swore I would never go to the hospital again and I haven't.”

“
So you're able to control yourself enough to not cut deep enough to need stitches now?”

“
I wouldn't say that, I just have my own ways of fixing it now.” I saw her look of confusion and decided to tell her. “I just clean the cut out really well, and I super glue the cut closed. It's basically the equivalent of the liquid stitches they use in the ER now.”

She sat there, contemplating what I had just said. I knew that I didn’t have to hide myself around Sara. It felt good to be so open with someone and not have them judge me. She wasn’t the only one I showed my true self to either. Aaron and Mike, they were getting to know the real me too, and that felt good. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had real friends. People that I could depend on and who could depend on me.

“
Have you ever thought about therapy?” Sara asked.

“
For what?”

“
To help you stop.”

“
Why do you always ask about it?” I hadn’t cut since before Thanksgiving and I tried not to think about it. The fact that Sara was trying to get me to open up about it was actually starting to annoy me.

“
I only ask because it’s a part of you that I really don’t understand.”

“
Sara, you should just feel lucky you don’t have to deal with it.”

“
So what do I do if I know you want to cut? Or what if I happen to see fresh scars? Do I just ignore it?”

“
That’s exactly what you do Sara. I’m sorry, but this thing I do, it’s really not any of your business.”

There were tears in her eyes and I felt guilty for hurting her, but what I said was true. Cutting was my thing and I was the only one who could deal with it. I didn’t need someone telling me I should go to therapy for it, I didn’t need anyone telling me that cutting is wrong. These are all things I know, I’ve figured all that out years ago. It doesn’t mean that I am ready to do it.

“
Willow,” she said. “I can’t do that.”

“
Listen, I know that you mean well, and that you care about me. This is my thing though. I’m getting a better handle on it. I haven’t done it since before Thanksgiving and I don’t even think about it as much as I used to. I really have you and Mike and Aaron to thank for that.”

“
I just want you to be happy Willow.”

“
I’m getting happier everyday.”

“
I know you are. Alright, I’ll drop it. You do know that if you ever want to talk about it, there are a lot of people that would help you.”

“
I know that now. I’m sorry if I hurt you. This is just not something I like to talk about.”

“
I understand.”

Things were awkward between us now, and I hated it. I wish I could have just erased that last ten minutes from our lives. It was shortly after that when Sara left my apartment and I was left here, trying to pretend that everything was the same between us. I have never been this close to someone and the fact that she was trying to understand something from an outsider’s point of view was hard.

The truth is, no one who hasn’t been a cutter could truly understand what it’s like. It’s not an easy thing to comprehend loving and hating taking a knife to your body. I know I could never understand why someone would like smoking or drinking and cutting is quite like an addiction. Actually, it was a lot like a love affair, knowing what you’re doing is wrong, but not being able to stop yourself because the connection is just too strong.

The more I was thinking about it, I wanted to cut so badly right this moment. I thought I had been doing so well but right now I realized I’m very weak. I don’t think it will ever matter how long it’s been since the last cut, I think it’s possible that when the real need arises, it will always be this strong and forceful. I wondered how long it would be before I gave in. It wasn’t going to be tonight, that much I knew for sure. I had to prove to myself that I could fight the urge that seemed to consume me. I decided instead to make it an early night and I eventually fell asleep on the couch, the knife still in the box in the farthest corner of my apartment.

CHAPTER 11: PRELUDE

Christmas came and went without as much as a card from my mother. I went to the Salvation Army and helped pass out presents and spent some time at one of the soup kitchens to help serve. I had my Christmas dinner with Aaron and Mike’s family and friends. Aaron made a big deal about my upcoming art show which turned me all shades of red.

Over the few days Aaron, Mike and I all transported my work to the gallery. I had spent a lot of time deciding where I wanted each piece, I was determined to put my best foot forward. That way, if nothing came of it, I would know that I tried my absolute best. Miss Morgan thought it was amusing watching me be so meticulous over every detail.

This morning I woke up already nervous six hours before the show. I drank my morning coffee while looking through my portfolio just double checking that everything I wanted to bring was already at the gallery.

Sara showed up while I was going through my closet deciding what to wear. It took a couple visits after our small disagreement for us to get back on track, but we were finally at ease with each other again.

“
I say you go comfortable. You’re going to be nervous anyway and you don’t want to spend the whole evening worried about what you look like on top of everything else.”

“
Good point,” I said. “Do you think you’re going to be able to make it?”

“
Oh, I’m sorry Willow. You know I would love to be there, but I’m not completely comfortable in crowds still. I get a little nervous, but I’ll be there in spirit.”

“
Well, if you change your mind please come,” I said trying to hide my disappointment.

“
Definitely. What are you going to do now? Just sit around and wait?”