Page 57 of Absorbed

Stacey woke feeling nauseous. Her mouth was pasty and sour from the Marlboro Reds she’d hidden in the back of her glove compartment. She had Sunday off and was grateful to have no plans.

She lay in bed, knowing she should call Gabe and finally see the movie she’d promised to see weeks before. But she was afraid she would end up telling him about Jessie. She didn’t want to lie, but she wasn’t ready for him to know the truth.

Instead, her day off was going to be spent eliminating every naively romantic aspect of her life.

“Time to clean up and grow up, Murph.” Stacey put her fingers on her throat, her raspy voice surprising them both.

Passing through the living room, she hit eject on the VCR and tuckedThe Princess Brideunder her arm. In the kitchen, she filled a forty-four ounce Del Taco cup with Apple Jacks and milk, and poured a glass of orange juice. Grabbing a giant garbage bag, she took everything to her bedroom, called Murphy inside, and closed the door. She hung the garbage bag off the back of her desk chair and dropped the VHS inside.

She changed out the five discs in her CD player to Ace of Base, The Bangles, The Indigo Girls, Hole, and Sinéad O’Connor, then hit shuffle play. She slurped her cereal while surveying the room.

Murphy sat at her feet, eyes following the spoon from the cup to Stacey’s mouth and back again.

Stacey ripped the Eternity ad—with its couple rolling in the sand—off the wall, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the garbage bag.Not real.She did the same with theTeen VogueandTiger Beatpages she’d taped up over the past year, of floppy-haired River Phoenix and Leonardo DiCaprio, because they looked so much like Jessie. The magazine cutouts of Matthew Fox, Brendan Frasier, and Chris O’Donnell, who each resembled Gabe in different ways, also got torn and tossed.

She removed the clothes she’d kicked under the bed from her date with Jessie, shoving the whole pile into the trash bag.Never wearing those again.She rummaged through her drawers, pulling out knee and thigh high socks, plaid skirts, and every tank top with lace trim.Bye bye baby doll clothes.She dumped it all into the trash bag along with her Mary Jane platform shoes and most of her stuffed animals.

She went through her entire closet, tossing in every floral and lacy blouse and dress. She lined up her jeans, plain tees, and flannels in color-order from dark to light.

She cleared her academic awards and debate trophies from her dresser, and deposited them inside a shoebox at the top of her closet. She maneuvered the dresser to the opposite wall, and positioned the desk in the dresser’s old spot. After changing her sheets, she flipped her sunflower comforter to the solid light blue side.

Stacey looked around. Everything was purged and nudged and rearranged. The space felt clean, smart, and full of possibilities. A blank canvas. And she knew exactly what she needed to create.

In the entryway closet, she dug past the ThighMaster, ski poles, and her self-portrait. As she’d hoped, she found her old hula hoop along with a large ball of oatmeal colored yarn. Three years before, her mom had said the yarn would become a beautiful blanket, but never even completed a scarf. Another abandoned hobby.

From the back of the kitchen junk drawer, she grabbed a box of thumbtacks, a bottle of Elmer’s glue, and scissors. She headed back to her bedroom.

Murphy watched from the bed as Stacey dug through the trash bag, pulling out the discarded jeans and every lace-trimmed piece of clothing she had tossed. She started cutting fabric into long, thin strips.

She applied her geometry skills and created a three-foot-diameter denim-framed yarn-web on her wall. A giant dream catcher. Along the bottom half, she hung a dozen loose pieces of creamy-white fabric and lace embellished with concert tickets, college stickers, and movie stubs, cut and manipulated together to look like feathers.

Dragging the garbage bag and scissors to her bathroom, she cleared off her counter and threw away every pale pink and icy blue shade of makeup she owned. She Windexed the mirror and 409’d the counter and sink, then, feeling proud and accomplished, she looked at herself.

There was one last thing that needed to go.

Stacey felt different, but her reflection showed the exact same person, the girl who couldn’t tell Jessie no. Her long, straight hair hung heavy and straw-like around her face, sun-bleached, with a mossy, chlorine-green hue at the bottom.

She picked up the scissors, aligned them with her jaw, and began to cut. Each snip gave her a little jolt of excitement as she turned her face to the side and cut toward the nape of her neck. The fine strands fluttered to the floor around her bare feet.

“What the fu–,” Stacey’s mother shrieked through the open door. Her hand slapped over her mouth.

Startled, Stacey’s hand slipped. She side-eyed her mother’s reflection as she re-gripped the last lock of hair, and realigned her scissors. “I decided to cut my hair.” Snip. Stacey dropped the clump of hair to the floor.

“Are you kidding me? I thought you outgrew cutting your own hair in preschool!”

“It’smyhair. It’ll grow back.”

“I mean… yeah… I guess… but Stacey, what the hell is going on with you? You’ve been in your room all day. You almost never spend time with Gabe anymore. Now this?”

Stacey wrinkled her chin and elongated her neck, turning her face from side to side. “I needed a change. Looks cute, right?”

Her mom rolled her eyes. “I need a glass of wine.” She started toward the kitchen.

“Wait! First, can you make sure it’s straight in back?” She offered the scissors to her mom.

Stacey’s mom looked down at the hair all over the floor and the dull shears Stacey held out for her. “Not here,” she sighed. “Meet me in the van in five minutes. I have the salon keys. We’ll do this the right way.”

By Monday morning, Stacey was ready to face Jessie and Melissa. She was SO over Jessie, and determined not to let whatever their relationship was bother her. There were six weeks of summer to get through before Melissa would leave for ASU. Jessie had said he would do whatever the hell “involves a half-pipe and a guitar.” Stacey would begin senior year and start applying to colleges. New Stacey wasn’t about to spend any time pouting and miserable about them.

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