Beyond Forever

Chapter 14

September 5, 2011

I stare at my reflection.

I've done this for as long as I can remember, read my face and checked that the cracks in my mask aren't showing. It's here, before the mirror in my room, that I plaster back over the wear and tear that comes with my life. There's a sense of peace in the knowledge that I can still do it so well.

The reasons may have changed, but that doesn't really matter in the end.

I've worn this look a lot in my life, probably more than I've worn anything. There's no piece of clothing, no hairstyle, or title, I've worn longer than this look of mute acceptance.

This was what was left when my sister went away to college and left me to deal with the nightmare of our family. What remained after drunk men panted into my face and I cried into my arms at the bottom of a shower.

When I buried the best of me in cold, hard ground.

This grim set of my lips is my taking-care-of-business face. The one that makes it look like what I'm about to do isn't going to hurt me.

But it does, every time.

I steal one last look in the mirror before heading to school.

I've come to a realization about Roseanne in the month since I let her go. I've realized that I've influenced her destiny. My presence here led her down a different path, one that changed the very center of her being. I ignored that we only have so much soul to go around, and in stretching the boundaries of some parts, I've borrowed from other pieces. Perhaps I've borrowed enough that I'm going to lose the future I had with her.

And I'm afraid that to fix what I've broken, I have to reset not only her path but mine.

My senior year was a hard one, hard enough that I sometimes don't know how I made it out alive. I fell in a cheerleading routine just before Christmas, and it broke my knee. It ended my athletic career, and after surgery and rehab left me with a limp, my father's aggression peaked.

I wasn't a beautiful commodity to trade anymore. And he made sure I knew it.

Worse yet was my mother whispering for me to keep our family secrets. She made excuses for doctors, nurses, church-goers, anyone who would listen to the lies. Her deceptions were her personal mission, and she preached them like a missive from God.

As terrible as that was, it wasn't nearly as bad as how much I hurt myself during that time. There's no abuse I've endured that compares to the persistent and disturbing voice inside me. Back then, there was no filter and no mercy, and I had a deathwish. My self-hate sent me into a spiral of high-risk behaviors that nearly killed me. Twice.

The only thing that saved me was the echo from years before that said I was smart enough to be better. Somewhere in the haze of self-pity and hate, Roseanne's voice was like a cleansing ray of light, and it inspired me to make something of my life.

I would love to say my decision to be a doctor was a profound realization, but it could have been a Zoloft commercial for all I know. As hopped up on painkillers as I was at the time, I'm shocked I had any coherent thoughts. The inspiration for the idea was inconsequential, it was the idea itself that saved me and gave me the purpose to live another day.

And while these times are something I've lived through, they're definitely not something I want to endure again.

I set my break, staring out over the parking lot. Beside me, Jisoo's vintage Porsche is still ticking, a figurative time bomb marking away the moments until I see her and we explode again.