Page 49 of Pretend for Me

“Since when?” She was never afraid of cars when we were together. I was the one to teach her how to drive.

“Since the night I ran away from you,” she said, simply.

I nodded. It seemed most of Cassie’s trauma came back to that fateful night. “Cassie, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s nothing.” Cassie waved her hand. “I’m broken.”

“We all are,” I said, irritated at how she spoke about herself.

“I guess I don’t get over things as easily as you,” she retorted.

I scoffed and passed the exit for the highway. My eyes fixated on the road, looking for a proper place to pull over. What I needed to say couldn’t wait until we got back into the city.

“What are you doing?” Cassie looked over at me.

I just shook my head. Words weren’t enough. It was something that couldn’t be explained. I had toshowher the truth.

I pulled the car over into a grocery store parking lot, cutting the engine. We sat in silence for a moment before I mustered up the strength to play my final card.

If she couldn’t see what she represented to me, I’d have to walk away once and for all.

“I don’t get over things easily, Cassie.” I warred with myself as I tried to find the right words.

Slowly, I unbuttoned the cuffs of my shirt. Cassie looked over at me, curiously.

“I have to show you so you understand,” I broached. I slipped off my dress shirt and pressed the button to the car’s overhead light.

When the car was fully illuminated, I leaned over the console to give Cassie a good look into how I never got over her.

On my upper bicep was a familiar quote, “Once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

The half-sleeve tattoo not only had the quote taking up the length of my upper arm but at my inner bicep was a shaded version of the actual Velveteen Rabbit. The bunny was shabby, just like in the book, but you could tell it was beloved.

Cassie crashed into my life, quite literally when we were four years old and left me feeling less alone. Cassie and I were once shabby children, unlovable, but we found value in each other. It was a perfect representation of us.

My tattoos served as a reminder for me to stay real. A reminder thatshewas real. I wanted to have a piece of her with me, even if I couldn’t have her. I got the tattoos shortly after our breakup. Sure I had other tattoos along the length of my arms, but they were only superficial and served the purpose of covering up my scars.

Wordlessly, I showed her my other bicep which had a colorful sketch of a girl sitting in front of an easel. The girl’s long brown hair hung to the stool she sat on, a palette filled with paint and a paintbrush in hand. On the easel was a generic painting of two young kids, barely discernible because of how tiny it was on my arm.

Cassie leaned closer and covered her mouth with her hands when she saw what I intended her to.

In the corner of the easel was “C. Wright.” I always believed in her.

“I never got over you,” I confessed. “Never wanted to. I just thought you should see it.”

When I attempted to put my shirt back on, Cassie lightly traced one of my inked arms. I felt déjà vu, remembering years ago how she traced my arms as a way of trying to get me to forget about the scars.

She always reassured me they didn’t hold any meaning to my worth. The irony wasn’t lost on me. All these years later, I was trying to use my arms to prove to her how much she was worth to me.

“Thank you,” Cassie said, her voice full of emotion. “For showing me.” Cassie gulped and snatched her hand away too quickly. She turned her face to stare blindly out the window.

My shoulders slumped. There was nothing more to say or do. I had shown her a piece of myself and it wasn’t enough. I put my shirt back on, buttoning it, and proceeded to restart the car.

I never fully understood the quote in theVelveteen Rabbit, “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt,” until that very moment. I knew I tried. Regardless of my limitless experience in the business world, I knew enough to realize that sometimes you exhausted all your moves and needed to walk away with your head held high regardless of the outcome.

25

CASSIE

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