7. Abigail – I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.”-Tom Waits
7
Abigail
'I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.”-Tom Waits
Age Seventeen
I blow out my candles and pace myself to eat a slice of cake. However, I have managed to eat healthy foods three times daily and regain a healthy weight. Eating sweets and things that are still considered taboo are challenging to swallow. Those guilty pleasures tasted good going down my throat, but the guilt always won. In turn, bulimia has been my new friend to the anxiety of eating. At least when it came to eating things I deemed terrible. I threw up after eating a huge meal with my family or when my body craved fats and carbs, and I overate on purpose, knowing I would throw it all up later. I hated myself afterward, but I also felt a sense of control at the same time. I haven’t told anyone about those relapses, mainly because I was scared. Embarrassed. Ashamed. All of the above. The one person I wanted to tell was Blake, but it seemed like I would be turning him off somehow, now that we were a little older. And he’s been getting plenty of counseling since his brother is officially in the NFL, and his dad is married to that ER doctor now.
I found out why he and Toby hated each other recently when I scrolled on Facebook and found a picture that Blake was tagged in sitting next to Toby. He looked miserable. They were forced into being step-brothers by marriage. I feel like Blake is occupied with other problems now and has moved on from our fragile attachment. Plus, his new car and muscles have made him into one of the guys who go through girls like water at school. It’s what I heard in the hallways anyway. Blake Killian was a male slut.
Even though I had to deal with my disorder alone, I was glad to see him surpass his addiction. I couldn’t help but wonder if dealing with any struggle was easier with the help of money like Blake got from his brother. That’s how it appeared to the outside world, anyway. When I saw him at school, he looked healthy. Flushed cheeks and healthy weight, but the thing about addictions and disorders was that they were easy to hide and hard to detect with the eye of the outside world. You could look completely normal, even beautiful, walking around daily but fighting a war full of turmoil inside without one soul knowing. It was almost scary how much of a facade humans could put on.
As my mom and family continued talking and conversing at the restaurant table, I saw my phone light up. A text message pops up on my screen. I already knew who it was from.
Blake. 11:11 am. Happy birthday, Abs. Have you made a wish yet?
I smiled as I picked up the phone, replying immediately.
Happy birthday, Zodiac twin. Yes, but if I tell you, then it won’t come true.
Oh, c’mon, what if I can make it come true?
My cheeks flushed at the thought of Blake kissing me, my first kiss. That was my wish this year since I still hadn’t kissed a boy, and I’m seventeen now. I didn’t want to graduate high school and be a complete prude, not knowing what it felt like to have a man’s lips on mine, to know what to do with my tongue when another one was massaging my own.
Be careful what you wish for. winky face.
We’re Scorpios. We’re Toxic, venomous. Others need to be saying that to us.
He was right. We both were of the same poison, but that same poison running through our veins made us more harmful to ourselves than anyone else.
What did you wish for?
To give you your birthday wish.
My heart picks up pace. Is it possible he already knew what I wanted?
Oh? How do you know what I wished for?
Let me show you. I’ll pick you up at eleven, and we can blow out our candles together and make a wish. Plus, I have a peanut butter cookie with your name on it.
I couldn’t hold back my smile this time.
Don’t tempt me.
Why not? It’s what a seductress does.
I roll my eyes inwardly.
So you want me to sneak out? You know my mom won’t let me stay out late since our birthdays fall on Sundays. We have school in the morning.
We won’t go anywhere. We can just hang out in my car. Say yes, Abs! We can listen to music, and maybe I can convince you to smoke a blunt with me. Let me show you what you’ve been missing.
Definitely not.
Just kidding. We can just hot-box it.
Should I know what that means?
I have so much to teach you
“Happy birthday, Blake.” Dancing Queen plays in his car speakers as I hand him a piece of cake that I saved from earlier. He eyed it, trying to figure out what made the red swirl design inside.
“My mom makes me vanilla cake, then puts jello in the middle after it’s done baking.”
“You mean the jello packets?” He says with a raised eyebrow.
“Ya, it makes the cake extra moist. Plus, it adds to the inside aesthetics, making it look pretty.” My right leg starts to bounce nervously as he stares at me. His eyes linger on me longer than usual these days, and it is beginning to freak me out. I refuse to appear freaked out by dipping my chin up, claiming defiance. He doesn’t take his eyes off of me.
I swear, every time I stare into his eyes. It feels like meeting him for the first time. I always found something new in them. Today, I found desire, or maybe it’s a promise I am sensing.
He moves his arm, making me blink. He pulls up his long shirt and flips his wrist to reveal what he wants to show me.
“Happy birthday, Abs.”
I look down at his forearm right next to his wrist and see the number 11:11 tattooed on his skin, with a faint detailed Scorpion in the background. A smile slowly spreads across my face, flushing my cheeks.
“You got a new tattoo?”
“Yeah, it seemed most appropriate, considering we both are full of sweet, toxic wishes. It runs through our blood, right?.”
Toxic Wishes?
“What did your family say?” I ask, trying not to read too much into what he said.
His eyebrows lift a few inches as he dips his chin down at me. “Really? Do you think they even noticed this tiny tattoo when I have them all over my arms?”
“True. So…is that what you wanted to show me?” I bit my lip as a tingling sensation swarms my whole body.
“Kind of. I figured this year we could make a pact,” he says in a low, husky voice that makes him sound so much older and much more experienced than me.
“A pact?” My eyebrows shoot up in curiosity.
“Ya, if you or I are not married by twenty-two and we are both single on our birthdays, then we’ll become each other's birthday wish and get married .”
“Woah, what? That’s a little dramatic, don't you think? And why 22? Because I highly doubt I’ll be married by then.”
I haven’t even kissed a boy yet.
“Because it’s double 11, which makes it twice as lucky. Plus, I have been doing a lot of research myself on this zodiac shit, and I don’t think many people can satisfy our sexual appetite like another Scorpio can.” My thighs clench together. At this moment, Blake looked absolutely beautiful. The moonlight cascaded down on his angular features. That dark, wavy rockstar hair illuminated in the background with his hypnotizing brown eyes staring back at me.
“Don’t you think we need to date before making a pact—a commitment like that?”
“No.” His response is swift and sharp as if he’s been thinking about this for a while.
“No?”
“Think about it, most people who date,” he makes air quotes with his two fingers, “typically break up after a few months or years. Why do you think that is?”
“Uh, because they weren’t compatible?”
“Wrong. It’s because they took time to get to know someone, almost too well, and then after the sex faded, they realized that person wasn’t all that great, broke up, and moved on to the next one. Then, it becomes a vicious cycle. Toxic really. That’s why I know so many people who break up and get back together. It’s a pattern they got sucked into.”
“So you're saying you don’t believe in love?”
“No, I’m saying that the way people have been doing this whole marriage and dating thing isn’t working out, and it isn’t love. Why do you think the divorce rate is so high, and with a second marriage, the chances are even higher?”
“I’m confused. What would stop us from doing that even if we didn’t date before marriage?”
“Because it’s a decision being made. Back in the day when shit was simple, people didn’t wait years or date years to decide if they were going to settle down. They made a decision, said they were attracted to each other, and said let's make it work, and that was that.” He is staring off into the distance now, looking out the windshield.
He’s referring to his dad since Stacy is Cliff’s fifth or fourth marriage. I couldn’t remember what Blake told me, but I remember dropping my mouth open when he did.
“Once I get married, that’s it for me. I don’t plan on getting divorced. And if I don’t do it when I’m young, I’ll probably never get married.”
I chuckle lightly, “I guess you put some thought into this. The good news is you admitted to liking me, so that’s a good sign to this future pact-marriage-commitment.” I said.
“Damn right, it’s a lot of years we are talking about, considering I live until seventy-five. But I don’t see myself making it that long. Sixty, tops.”
My stomach does a summersault. The fact he is optimistic about the future gave me hope as well that he is doing much better and staying away from drugs despite my gut feeling that has me in knots from the slight possibility I could be wrong.
He may be doing better than me.
“Okay. Deal. Do we need to spit and shake hands or something?”
He laughs lightly. “No, but you’ll have to get the same tattoo.”
“What?” my voice shrieks a little at his suggestion. “Heck no. That’s where I draw the line.”
“You don’t have to get it on your wrist. You could get it on your foot or behind your ear. Although I will advise you, those areas are bonier than your wrist. So it probably will hurt even more.”
“You’re joking.?” I say with my head tilted to the side.
“Nope” he popped the p at the end. “You either hit this blunt with me or get a tattoo to seal the deal. Your choice.” He grabs his lighter sitting in his console and lights the blunt. I watch him as the song With or Without You, by U2 starts playing, as if fate is speaking to us both. I watch him as he sucks in the weed and blows it out through his nose.
Blake will be a rockstar one day. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how. But I know he has way too much suave-ness not to be loved by this world—almost like a modern-day Elvis. Let’s hope he doesn’t let the drugs beat him in the race to the finish line like the King of rock-n-roll did.
As we sit silently, I want to ask him what happened to the Fallen Angels band. I ran into Edison at school the other day looking all pissed, so I asked him what was wrong, and he just told me, the guys can’t keep their dicks in their pants, and my girlfriend is a cheating hoe-bag . His words exactly.
My guess was on Duke, but then again, Blake was known to have a new girl on his shoulder every month, so he’s just as guilty. I have seen Blake talk with a few girls in the hallways, but I try to consciously not look at them as I attend to and from my classes. Lessening my chances of witnessing more than just seeing him talk to girls. I know it would kill me to see Blake kissing those dreamy, prissy, blue-eyed blonde girls that ruled the school, but maybe if I had a piece of him on my skin, I wouldn’t be so paranoid about those girls meaning more to him than I did.
“Okay, fine, I’ll get the tattoo, but only if I can get it colored pink. Having a tattoo on my body forever is a big commitment, and I would at least like to spice it up a bit with color if I’m looking at it every day.”
Smoke fills the car up, and I’m not sure if the smoke is starting to make me feel dizzy or how Blake is looking at me. His eyes scorch into me so deep that I can practically feel his gaze burn through my soul. My heart started to pound rapidly behind my chest as he continued to look at me with those paralyzing eyes, forever etching his face into my mind. My head felt lighter, and it almost felt as if I was floating. The music plays in the background, but all I can hear is my beating heart and shallow breaths. Then, in one swift movement, he unbuckles his seat belt and positions himself to face me, leaning over the console so his face is inches away from mine. He’s so close I could taste the weed in my mouth. My blood boiled, and my body buzzed.
“Blake?” I say more as a plea than a question.
He wraps his hand around my neck, pulling me closer. I gasp. He looks down at my lips. I could feel my chest move up and down as my breathing quickened. My heart was racing now, causing my blood to warm every inch of my body, and it was the only time I felt alive since the day I was admitted to the hospital.
“This isn’t a promise, Abs, if anything, this is the certainty of me breaking one.”
Music is love in search of a word.” — Sidney Lanier