Every Red Bracelet Falls

Chapter 1 - Red Rubber Bands

Chapter 1 – The Rubber Bands

The county fair smelled like crawfish and sugary vomit as I trudged in my leather boots to the ring where they show the farm animals. I kicked up dirt, noticing the pellets of horse and chicken poop, wrinkling my nose. And then I saw her. Standing next to dented, Ford, truck.

Winona’s right arm was stacked high to her elbow with red rubber bands, some thick and tight, some skinny and loose. Her large, hazel eyes, once bright and smiling, were now dull and coated with black liner. She smelled of salt. Or cat urine. I couldn’t tell which.

Something had broken inside of my best friend since the last time I had seen her. I thought maybe she was drinking. Or on drugs. Maybe it was her heart. Regardless, I didn’t comment on it, keeping a tight-lipped smile as I watched her step-father, Steve, from the corner of my eye.

He had always struck me as odd; ever since I attended her birthday slumber party in the ninth grade. The next morning, me and five other girls, including Winona, had piled into his tan, rusty car and rode without seatbelts to the town park. Once we got out, Steve asked her to stay behind so she could make a phone-call to her aunt. After a few minutes, I watched them from a distance as they talked quietly to each other, foreheads pressed together and his hand rubbing her back.

I never saw her call her aunt.

He was just another one of her mom’s many boyfriends Winona had said one day in eighth grade. She blew a pink bubble, popping it back into her hot-cheeto stained mouth as she twirled a lock of her brown hair around her finger. She didn’t think he would last very long, but as he was here, three years on, I figured their relationship was going well.

“So,” Winona said nervously, looking at her sandaled toes, “how’s your year been?”
                “Good. I mean, I have friends now. And there nice.”

I bit my lip awkwardly. It tasted like cotton candy. “What about you?”

Winona fidgeted. She looked toward Steve, who now had a cigarette in his mouth and was texting on his phone. She pulled me by the arm and led me towards the tailgate of the Ford. I didn’t think about how suspicious this was till after I’d heard the news.

                “Things have been kind of… crazy, lately. I’ve had to go to this mental facility for counseling because I’ve just been having all of these break-downs and I tried to burn all of my clothes.”

                “What?” I asked, alarmed. “Are you okay? Why’d you try to burn all of your clothes?”

                She shrugged. “They uh—they smelled like cigarettes. I—I couldn’t get the scent out of them.”

                “Oh,” I said. Steve seemed to have noticed we’d left, striding around to the back of the truck. “Are you girls about done? We’ve gotta get home, Winona.”

                He eyed me warily.

                “Five more minutes, please,” she begged. “I haven’t seen Rachel in forever.”

                He rolled his eyes, turning back to his cellphone. In the moonlight I could see the purple bags under Winona’s eyes as she turned back to me.

                “So what’s with all the bracelets?” I asked, pointing to her arm.

                “Oh, it’s part of my therapy. If I ever feel like I need to cut I just start popping them against my skin.”

                “Does it help?”

                “Sometimes,” she pulled a clump of the rubber bands from her arm and held them out to me. “Here, I don’t know if you still get depressed or anything like that, but maybe you’ll get some use out of ‘em.”

                I took them, putting three on my left arm and two on my right. “Thanks,” I muttered, trying to smile.

                “Alright, let’s go,” said Steve, getting in the driver’s side of the truck and turning the key. “Your mom picked up some pizza.”

                “Okay,” Winona called. She pulled me in for a hug and I held my breath from the putrid scent, tears threating to spill from my eyes.

                “Before I forget, I, uh, got one of those prepaid phones finally.” She pulled a small strip of paper from her ripped-jean pocket. “I’ve been handing these out all night,” she said with a slight laugh, handing me the slip.

                “C’mon,” Steve said, agitated, through the driver’s side window. “You’re lucky I don’t leave you here you little bitch.”

                That second part was muttered, but still audible.

                Winona waved goodbye quickly, an expression on her face I couldn’t read.

                Worry? Anger? Sadness?

                As they drove away I couldn’t help but feel this twinge of guilt in my stomach. I should’ve kept in touch with her more. She’s never had a phone until now and she doesn’t get on Facebook. Heck, I don’t even know where she lives anymore.

                Maybe it’s not so much my fault as it is hers.

I inwardly cringe, regretting the thought.