Chapter 23
I look at myself in the mirror and start taking off my school clothes. I should be out in forty-five minutes. I look at myself in the mirror, I'm stripped down to black lace underwear and bra. My skin's pale, never been whiter. My belly is like a hole, both figuratively and literally. Not that you can see through, but it's really small, instead of being flat or sticking out a bit as it should, it's as if it's caving in. I eat less lately, which surely doesn't help, but I keep feeling like throwing up, just by looking at food. Most of the time I do, after eating. Most of the time I eat anyway because I fucking love eating, but then feel fucking awful, both about the throwing up and about how repulsive I am. I feel weak, I feel like a stick that might snap out of the blue. I run my hand on the Hole, my pinky hovering over my bellybutton. My left hand goes on my waist, and I feel my pelvis bone, sticking out like my ribs do. My right hand, in the mean time, gets higher, passing over the bump which is my ribcage. It goes higher, my finger tips cold, making me shiver. I don't know if the shiver is because my hands are freezing me or because of disgust. Disgust. I always feel disgust. Every time I think of myself, every time I wonder "How would it be to be someone who lives with me, who is in class with me, who sees me every day?" In those moments, I don't even know if it could be called disgust. I get this feeling in my stomach, a weight, and it's not just being nauseous about it, it's this hate, this horror, this weird annoying feeling of having me around.
They wander, going higher, grazing my breasts which are too small to be called beautiful, which also have stretch marks, if that even is possible. Breasts who have been touched when I didn't want to, that had white liquid dripping off of them uncountable times when all I wanted to do was hide in a corner and cry. I never asked for it, and yet I feel responsible. I go up, to my collarbone. I love collarbones, they're the most attractive thing a woman can have. But mine are too bony, too pronounced. They stick out. I get up to my neck and clutch it, undecided if to press my glands just under my jaw, as if to choke myself, or on the sides, like he used to do. My left hand goes back up, my right goes down, both clutching my diaphragm as the Hole swallows the rest of my body. I feel a tear roll down my cheek, then another one, and another one. I stumble backwards, hit the door, fall down to the floor. I can't breathe. I try to hold on, tell myself to calm down. My lungs don't listen, they don't calm down. They just keep their desperate search for oxygen, trying to catch the last breath, as the wave falls down over me.
I jump up the steps, my hair flying as the automatic doors open and throws air at me. I never understood why they do that. The mall is warmer than outdoors, so I take my jacket off, leaving me in a white shirt, unbuttoned to show my non-existent cleavage, I swear not for Savannah, which works a bit as a blouse, tucked in a pair of mom jeans. Again, yes, I have an obsession with mom jeans and bandanas, a red one making a terrible job at holding my hair in place. My belt and the largeness of the shirt make my curves more evident, and I made sure my jeans don't crumple up, leaving a nice view, if Savannah will happen to watch me walk from behind. No Rose, stop. Stop falling for people out of your league. Wait, I'm not falling. I'm not falling, am I? No time for this bullshit, I'm terrible at finding people and I need to find the group I'm supposed to meet in a few minutes. I look around and it takes me less than five seconds to spot her. Her tall, slim figure, wearing a white shirt too, tucked into her black jeans on her lower waist. Her black hair appears weightless when she turns her head and spots me too. She smiles, a genuine one, the one you can never see at school, the one you can rarely see outside, the one I constantly see when we're alone. I smile back, too happy to be worried about the fact that she never behaves like we actually hang out when we're in public. I go towards them, half of us has already arrived. Jane is holding Ava's arm, hanging onto her, while Ava talks to Savannah, but she doesn't seem to care, she just looks at me smiling while I walk. Suddenly I remember I'm mad at her, and all the times she teased me or bumped into my shoulder on purpose, the kind that makes you feel like shit, come back to mind. I start to panic, what do I do? Now that we're out, has something changed? Or she invited me just to make fun of me with her friends? Yeah, she's probably going to make fun of me. Shit shit shit. What do I do now? Tell them I need to go to the toilet and run back home? Just turn around and leave? But by now it's too late, I am in front of her. Ava says hi, all big smiles, Jane soon follows after, but as if she were bored. Savannah comes closer to me, the tip of our toes almost touching. She looks down at me, I look up.
"Hi." I try.
"Hi, asshole." Is her reply. Oh hell to the nah.
"Asshole? Really? Me? Between us two I'm the asshole?" Two seconds with her and she's already making me get a burnout.
She moves towards my ear and whispers, the tingles reappearing. "Jesus, you look fucking beautiful today. More than you do the rest of the time."