Twenty-Eight #2
“Okay, okay, calm down. It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it is! If I hadn’t lied, Logan wouldn’t have a black eye right now.”
“Thomas shouldn’t have gone and hit him, no matter what! Especially not after the things he did himself.”
“I have to call him; I need to know if he’s okay.” I grab my phone out of the drawer in the bedside table. I call him but, after the sixth unanswered ring, I hang up in frustration. “He’s not picking up!”
“Maybe he’s busy?”
“He’s going to hate me, Tiff. He’ll hate me forever,” I rave desperately.
“Okay, that’s enough.” She pulls the cell phone out of my hands and puts it on the bed. She takes me by the shoulders and looks me right in the eye. “You don’t need to worry about him right now, okay? In fact, you don’t need to worry about anyone except yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I answer in a small voice, unable to meet her eyes.
“Oh, you’re fine? Is that why you haven’t been coming to class and you’ve lost weight?” she notes with a hint of reproach, folding her arms over her chest.
“I’m getting notes for my classes and keeping up with the studying. There’s no need to worry about my weight, because I assure you I’m eating just fine.”
“Rice cakes don’t count.” She looks pointedly at a half-empty bag of them left open on my desk.
“Listen, you’re broken, and I get it. You put your heart and soul into the relationship, it went tits up, and that sucks.
It really, truly sucks. But you can’t wither away like this.
I won’t let you. So we’re getting out of here. ”
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” I tell her, more brusquely than I want to.
“Well, too bad. That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Even if I have to drag you out of here by your hair, which I will absolutely do. Considering that, I suggest you go take a shower, because God knows you need it. And then we’re going out.”
Reluctantly, I admit defeat and do as she tells me. Because I know my friend, and she is possibly the most determined person in the world. If she’s decided that she’s going to get me out of this room today, then nothing is going to get in her way.
After washing my hair and putting it into a low ponytail, I put on a baggy sweat suit that, judging from the look she gives me, Tiffany does not approve of.
For once, though, she lets it go, just pursing her lips and shrugging.
“You ready?” she asks me, pulling her coat back on and swinging her purse over her shoulder.
“Where are we going?” I ask listlessly.
“To the spa.” She smiles at me. “I’m about to give you the most relaxing day of your life.”
“It’s eleven in the morning; don’t you have classes?”
“Not today. Today, I’m all yours.” Grinning broadly, she grabs me by the hand and pulls me out of my apartment.
***
During the car ride, Tiffany tries to make conversation, and to keep her from feeling awkward, I fake a smile as she tells me about a bizarre incident that happened in one of her classes.
Then I pretend to be interested as she lists all the things we’re going to do once we get to the spa.
I pretend like I don’t feel like there’s a knife stuck in my chest. Like I’m not alone. Or empty.
“Hey, hon, we’re here.” Tiff jostles my arm slightly, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I unbuckle my seat belt, and when I step out of the car, I find myself in front of a luxurious edifice that I’ve never seen before. “What is this place?”
“It’s one of the hotels my dad uses for business.
By which I mean when he’s fighting with Mom and needs a place to spend the night, he comes here instead.
He bought shares in this chain and is also a member of the golf club.
I know all of this because he’s been forcing me to learn this stuff for a month, so we’ll charge today to his account.
Consider it a fair compensation for my apprenticeship. ” She smirks.
I look around, shrugging my shoulders—what can I do but agree?
The receptionist, who is dressed to the nines, welcomes us with a wide smile.
She has a quick chat with Tiffany before handing us two bags full of everything we’ll need for the spa, including maps of the place and menus with a description of all the services on offer.
We spend the rest of the day in the thermal baths and saunas in between getting hot stone massages and manicures.
After some initial resistance, I agree to wrap the day up with a visit to the in-house hair salon.
Tiffany decides to touch up her hair color, while I fall back on a simple revitalizing hair mask.
And while Tiff focuses on reading a fashion magazine, I just stare blankly at myself in the mirror.
I can’t deny that today was pleasant, and I love Tiffany for trying to cheer me up.
For a while there, she even succeeded. Too bad all it took was a young couple walking by, beaming at one another as they cuddled, for the memory of Thomas to hit me and the pain to overwhelm me, somehow even stronger this time.
Everything starts to feel flat again. Colorless. Thin. I wonder if this feeling will ever go away, or if this is just what awaits me now, a bland world, devoid of hue and texture.
“Hey, Billy,” I say suddenly, turning to my hairdresser. He’s been bustling around with creams and colors while my mask is setting. He comes to me and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“What’s up, hon?” he asks with a warm smile.
“I want a cut.”
He goes still, looking at me in the giant mirror in front of us. He chuckles, but when he sees that I’m serious, he falls silent.
Tiffany closes her magazine with a snap. “A cut?”
I nod. And repeat firmly, “Yeah, a cut. And color.” They both keep staring at me, but I don’t give up. I stretch out my arm to point at the reflected image of a poster behind us. “I want that. Like what that model has.”
I watch as a crease appears on Billy’s forehead as he looks at the reflection. Then, still bemused, he replies, “Okay. I can do that.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, pleased and nervous at the same time.
The last time I cut my hair, I was ten years old.
I went with my father to the barbershop, and Alex, who always tagged along with us, convinced me to get a bob.
I listened to him only to bitterly regret it and sob like a maniac because I wanted my hair back.
Ever since then, I’ve only trimmed it once in a while.
As for the color, that doesn’t bother me. I’ve been dyeing my hair for years.
Once the job is done, the result is more satisfying than I imagined.
It’s a layered and slightly choppy style that hits right at my clavicle.
My hair remains jet black at the roots, but from about midway down, it fades into a light gray that matches and highlights the color of my eyes.
I walk out of the salon proud of my decision.
Tiffany might be even more thrilled than I am because she can’t stop telling me how great this new carefree look is.
It’s already evening by the time we get back to campus.
Tiffany invites herself to dinner by ordering McDonald’s for the both of us.
I don’t object because I realize she doesn’t want to leave me alone.
It’s the same reason she arranges our dinner on the coffee table in front of the sofa and puts on an episode of Shameless .
The moment it ends, she turns to look at me and asks softly, “Hey, how are you feeling?”
I give a long sigh as I clean the salt and oil off my fingers with a napkin. “If you want the truth, not good.”
“I know.” She takes my hand and squeezes it affectionately. “I can tell.”
“But it was nice to spend the day with you at the spa; it really was,” I offer sadly. “I wish…I just wish I was handling this whole situation better. That’s what I really want.”
“There’s no one right way to handle pain, honey.
And you don’t have to do it all alone; we can do it together.
And I promise you that this is going to pass.
I promise that you are going to laugh again and feel good again, like you did before him.
Before my brother, even before your father.
” Her voice is full of sincere hope. But I have lost all my hope.
With my eyes downcast and my heart broken, I murmur, “I’m going to end up like her.”
“Her?”
“My mother.”
“Oh, please. No, no way.” She chuckles.
I look up at my friend. “Yes, actually, I will end up exactly like her. Disappointed and cynical.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not going to be like her at all.
You’re going to find someone who will love you and make you happy the way you deserve.
Or maybe you won’t find someone. I mean, whoever said you need a man by your side to be happy?
You’ll find your true happiness here”—she presses her hand against my heart—“on the inside.”
I feel a lump in my throat. “But that’s my point; I’m not sure I can do that anymore.
The problem isn’t just Thomas; it’s me. Everything has been bad for too long now.
I may be a good student, but I don’t have any plans for the future, while everyone around me has a clear path they’re on.
Look at you; you’re continuing your criminology studies while you work with your father.
My entire family has turned their backs on me.
With men, I do nothing but screw up… I feel like I’ve lost myself, and I don’t know exactly when it happened, but it did happen, and now I don’t know how to find myself again. ”
“You do know. Your head knows; it’s your heart that’s refusing to see.
Stop everything for a minute. Focus on that moment, the moment when you lost the most important thing.
The moment when you felt the earth go out from under your feet.
Focus on that, and then go from there. Reconstruct your life from the pieces left behind, and you’ll find yourself again, you’ll see. ”