Ten Things

Ch.23-Self-Destructing

Grace

I was finding out the hard way the consequences of allowing myself to put too much faith in Cole. To hope for too much from him. There were other ways to feel sick, I was realizing, and I had found one.

I remembered when I was younger, and my body didn’t take to the new medication I was put on very well. I vomited at least twice every day. I was always dehydrated. I could never get to a healthy body weight and I looked like I had risen from the grave. That was a horrible time in my life and for some reason I was reminded of it now, while I sat on my bed staring at the wall, my heart in shattered pieces in my chest. Because I had just come to one of the most disturbing conclusions. I had given a part of myself to Cole. I hadn’t meant to, but that was the only reason I could come up with to why I felt so bad. So . . . off. Somewhere along the way Cole turned into something that mattered and I gave him a piece of myself.

A piece he more or less threw on the ground and stomped all over. But maybe I had had that coming.

I hadn’t thought much of keeping my secret from him, the fact that I had cancer. It was automatic by now. I used to not mind letting it slip, but then people started treating me differently. They thought I was fragile and incapable and it started getting on my nerves. I could handle myself. I’d been through enough horrors at the hospital to know my own strength. Even when I couldn’t feel it, I knew it was there; that little girl inside of me that refused to give up the fight.

“Grace?” I heard my mother’s soft voice call, moments before the door to my bedroom cracked open. “Are you ready for school?”

I nodded. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

She stared long and hard at me, eyes looking for something that her maternal senses were screaming at her to find. “Okay, then,” she murmured, and ducked out. I swallowed hard and uncurled my legs from beneath me, walking on slightly unsteady feet to my dresser. Sweaters and jeans were all I ever wore. I caught a glimpse of the dress I had worn to homecoming in my closet, and I wanted to be adventurous. Sad, maybe, that it had taken so long for me to venture outside of my pathetic comfort zone. But if there was anything good about the fiasco with Cole, it was that. I had shed a layer of skin, a guarded layer, one of my defenses, and it was liberating.

My mother had been begging me to show some variety anyway, so why not?

Before the brazen feeling deserted me I dug around in my drawer and pulling out a pair of leggings and a jean skirt, along with a button-up blouse. I slid it on, stepping into my boots. It was cold outside. I wouldn’t braid my hair.

I paused at my dresser, fingers creeping behind my ear and tracing the cut that was scarring over. I shivered with the memories. Cole’s lips brushing over it . . .

Stop it, Grace, I scolded myself, hurrying to the door and pulling it open. I treaded into the kitchen where my mother was sipping a cup of coffee. Her eyebrows shot up and she nearly choked on her mouthful when she saw me.

I saw a muffin on a plate in my usual seat and sat down to eat it.

“Grace,” my mother trailed off, setting down her mug. “You look . . . Lovely.”

I smiled. “As opposed to every other day?”

Her eyes widened and she smiled. “No! I mean, you always wear those sweaters and those worn jeans. I was waiting for you to realize I didn’t buy you those other clothes for nothing.”

I bit into my muffin. “Thank you for them.”

“Y-you’re welcome,” she stammered, and then unable to get anything else out she returned to her coffee.