Page 69 of Wrecked
The poor girl without a future. The poor girl who won’t amount to anything. The girl that isn’t good enough for his son.
The same son that holds me in his arms every night, keeping me safe from the reality of my life. The same son who whispers that he loves me, promising me forever before we fall asleep. The son who is going to leavehimand keepme.
The way he hurts Nate without a single thought or concern over being caught brings out this homicidal vigilante that lives deep within me. I fantasize about all the ways I would ruin him if I could. I’d stand over him and laugh as I watched him lose it all, a fate that would be worse than death for a man like him. His image is everything, his narcissism runs deep.
I’ve never been a violent person, but every time my fingers trace over a new bruise that Nate tries to hide from me, I want to smash his head in with a meat tenderizer.
Like I said—homicidal vigilante.
The smell of burning hair brings me out of my thoughts, and I hear a loud sizzle coming from behind my head.
“MOM!” I yelp, attempting to pull my head away from the smoking barrel of death.
“Oh…Oh. Shit…sorry!” She quickly unwraps my hair from the old, rusted curling iron, battered from years of eighties hairstyles and White Rain hairspray. “Just a little frizzy. No big deal, we can fix it!” she squeaks out, letting me know my hair is much more damaged than she is letting on.
“Here, just let me.” I take the curling iron from her hand and wrap another strand of hair around it. I don’t miss her small frown, but she quickly masks it with a gossipy smile.
“Soo…who is the lucky boy taking my baby girl out tonight?” she whispers loudly, conspiratorially, as if we are trading secrets. I’m not used to this level of attention from my mom, so I don’t know how to participate in this game. I ignore her and continue to curl my hair in silence. She looks down at her lap, apparently disappointed with my dismissal. I feel guilty, but it’s a feeling she doesn’t deserve. It seems like, for once, her daughter is more important than her six p.m. red wine and Xanax concoction. I was honestly shocked when she asked if she could help me get ready. I’ve never gone to any other high school functions, so I didn’t even realize she knew I was going to a dance tonight.
Nate asked me to prom months ago, so early in our relationship I didn’t think it was a genuine question. We were walking around a high-end shopping center, one that someone like me doesn’t frequent, and I saw a beautiful red satin gown displayed in the window of a small shop.
Piles of untouched, perfectly white snow gathered along the windowsill, making it look like the dress sat on top of a cloud. The bitter cold added to the beautiful aesthetic, encasing the gorgeous dress in a frame of frosted glass. I was mesmerized by the beauty of such an expensive piece of clothing. Nate suggested we go inside the boutique, and as soon as I saw theprices on the other merchandise, I knew I’d never own the dress that captured my attention.
Still, Nate asked me to try it on. I agreed, even though I knew it would make me sad to wear a dress I loved so much but would never own. The second I slipped the gown over my body, I fell in love. Not only with the dress, but with the confident, beautiful woman wearing it. I stepped out of the dressing room and did a little twirl as I modeled it for Nate. I loved the way it fit my body like a glove, and I loved the wayhis eyestook notice. He told me I looked stunning, that the dress was made for me. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. I was so sad to have to take it off.
Little did I know, when I was redressing behind closed doors, he was at the counter purchasing the gown. When I joined him at the counter, I was shocked to see the store owner wrapping upmybeautiful red dress. I told Nate that I couldn’t accept it, and he told me that I didn’t have a choice. He wanted to see me in it at his senior prom.
The very next day he decorated his room in red roses and lit candles, spelling out the word “prom,” officially asking me to be his date to an event taking place six months in the future.
Now, here we are. Senior prom. It seemed like a pipe dream at the time. Nate and I had barely begun seeing each other. Now, I can’t imagine my life without him.
I slide my free hand down that same red satin dress that is cloaking the silky black lingerie I am wearing underneath. The only sexy set of underwear I have, and the first time Nate will be seeing it. The fabric of the gown is soft beneath my fingertips, and I can’t help the small smile that forms. I really love this dress, but I’m going to love Nate’s reaction to seeing me in it even more.
“It’s a beautiful dress, honey. You look gorgeous in it,” Mom states, almost shyly. Like she’s suddenly uncomfortable being a part of my big day.
“Thank you,” I offer back. I am starting to feel uncomfortable with the level of attention she is giving me. It’s a sad reality, really. I should be excited to share this moment with my mom. Instead, I wish she would pour her Malbec and leave me alone.
“Well, whoever this young man is, he’s incredibly lucky. You’re a beautiful young lady, and you’re going to knock his socks off.”
What does that even mean? Knock his socks off. I have the urge to roll my eyes at her. Instead, I let out a frustrated sigh and unplug the curling iron. I grab a comb and brush through the tight curls until they resemble gentle ocean waves cascading down my back.
“I’m trying, Ellison,” she whispers. “I know I haven’t been very…present. I know I’ve been living in my grief for so many years. But I really am trying.”
“You should have tried a long time ago. I no longer need you,” I snap, rising from my spot in front of the mirror and walking toward the bathroom. I’m surprised by my reaction. I’ve never snapped at my mom before. I hardly even talk to her. I’ve just accepted that I have an absent parent, and I honestly haven’t thought twice about it. Not for years. I’ve ignored the hurt for so long I almost forgot that it was still buried beneath the surface. Her gentle show of affection reminds me of all the things I wanted, craved, in my relationship with my mom.
“Has Chris…has your father ever hurt you?” The question comes out of nowhere, and her words are laced with fear, as if she’s terrified of the answer she’ll get. An answer she doesn’t truly want. She’d rather hide from the truth about the monster she’s married to.
“Would it matter if he did?” I slam the bathroom door shut behind me and try to hold back my tears as I apply my mascara.
I’m not going to let her ruin this day for me. Prom is going to be magical. I’m going to spend the entire evening dancingwith my person. I’m going to spend the night wrapped safely in his arms without the worry of being caught.
It’s going to be perfect, and she doesn’t get to take that away from me.
I add the final touches to my makeup and take a step back. I wasn’t able to get my hair and makeup done professionally like most girls, but I think I did a pretty good job.
I can’t help but giggle as I twirl around, looking at my dress, hair, and makeup from all angles. I’ve never been so excited about a school function before.
I was a little worried that this night wouldn’t come to fruition. There was an “off” week between Nate and me about two months ago. He seemed to pull away a little, always lost in his thoughts. I even spent a night at home, crying in my bed because he forgot to unlock the window. He never even texted to ask where I was. I thought he was going to break up with me. The thought alone sent me spiraling into a panic attack, one Nate wasn’t there to help me out of. He taught me how to bring myself out of them with a grounding exercise that Emmy uses. It just doesn’t work the same for me when Nate’s not nearby.
