In Love With a Renegade

Chapter 5: Love and Other Simple Things

Hayley changed her ideal plans and decided to go to the beach with me for lunch. As we drove on the freeway, I managed to take glimpses of her, her red and orange hair moving with the wind as her face remained calm-- almost emotionless.

"You're a lot calmer than I expected," I stated. "You alright?" Hayley seemed to snap out of a daze and looked over at me.

"Huh?" she asked.

"Are you okay?" I repeated with a chuckle.

"Yeah," she said with a hesitant nod. "Just thinking."

"What about?"

"Life," she said with a shrug. I glanced over at Hayley, finding her still wearing her leather jacket.

"Aren't you hot in that thing?" I asked.

"I mean, I guess," she snickered. "If that's what you truly think."

"You know what I mean," I chuckled, a smile growing on my face. Hayley smiled a little as well.

"I'm fine," she said after a moment.

"It's, like, a hundred degrees," I scoffed. "You must be crazy!"

"A little," Hayley smirked. "I think we've clarified that, haven't we?"

***

We decided to eat at a restaurant that was on the pier, having an amazing view of the shore. I found it ironic that the restaurant served seafood at a beach.

      As Hayley reached for the pepper, I noticed something on her wrist. Scars. Some red, some the color of her fair skin. I looked away, hoping I didn't make my realization obvious to her. But I couldn't help but to be curious why Hayley would do this... if she did it. After all, I could be wrong.

"What happened to your wrist?" The words spilled out of my mouth; Hayley looked up at me from her plate of salmon, her eyes wide.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Your wrist. What happened? I saw some scars on it," I said, hesitating to look her in the eye.

"I... I'd rather not talk about it," she stammered before trying to stuff her face with food so she wouldn't be able to answer anything else. I wouldn't let that pass by.

"Did you cut yourself?" I quizzed. Hayley dropped her fork, it making a loud clash against the dish. A few stares from other eaters were given. Hayley looked down at her plate, her hands shaking above it; they fidgeted.

"York, stop," she said, her voice wavering. "I told you I don't want to talk about it."

"Hayley," I said calmly. She managed to look up at me, her eyes showing panic, pain, and hurt. I glanced around the room to make sure no one was trying to eaves into our conversation. I leaned into her over the table. "Just tell me," I whispered. "I'm not going to tell anyone." Hayley studied me, her eyes slightly glazing over with tears. She nodded and looked down, keeping her focus on her fidgety hands. I smiled a little at her, trying to lighten the mood.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I asked, reassuring her. Hayley got up and tossed the cloth napkin on the table.

"I want to go home," she said sternly. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." Before I could think of stopping her, Hayley stormed out of the restaurant. I followed her, meeting her by the car.

"Hayley, why?" I asked. She turned to me, her face tear-stained.

"It's the past!" she cried. "I've gotten over it!"

"Hayles," I sighed, trying to pull her into an embrace. She shoved me away as she cried more.

"Damn it, York! When I say I don't want to talk about it, there's a fucking reason!" she scolded.

"Hey, I'm sorry," I said, holding my hands up in surrender. "I didn't know, okay?"

"I know, but still! You could've just kept your mouth shut!"

"Hayley, I'm sorry," I repeated, my words being more stern as I held her by her shoulders. She studied be, black smudges being streaked against her cheeks, like the red lines that embedded her wrists.

     Then it hit me. I've never seen Hayley so broken. I've always seen her as the happy, reckless person she portrays herself to be. I never imagined her to scar herself or even shed tears. I heaved a sigh, my heart aching at the sight of a sobbing Hayley. I nodded and urged her into the car.

"I'll take you home," I said, my voice now low. The ride back to her place was quiet and seemed to take longer than the ride to the beach. I couldn't contain my curiosity as I saw Hayley keep her gaze out the window.

"Why did you do it?" I forced myself to ask. Hayley sniffed and looked down at her hands that rested in her lap.

"Well, now that it's out," she sighed. "I'm not as happy as I seem, Taylor York." She looked up at me with a small frown.

"But you've got it all," I said.

"So you think," she responded. "Remember when I told you that happiness is ignorance?" I didn't answer, taking her question rhetorically. "Well, do you?"

"Yes," I said.

"I don't want to be ignorant. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be a know-it-all, or a smart ass. I just don't want to be ignorant of what's real in life."

"You can do that while being happy, can't you?"

"You tend to lose sight of things, like I did."

"How so?" I asked.

"I was a fool," she chuckled, tears filling her eyes again. "Love, friends, looking for happiness.... Simple things like that."

"So you cut the pain away?"

"No, not that. You can't get rid of pain with more pain," she said. "I've learned that the hard way."

"Then why did you cut?" I repeated.

"I cut to remember them. I cut to remember the pain."

"But... pain isn't good," I stammered, confused by Hayley's thoughts.

"Yeah, I know," she said plainly. "I've gotten used to it. It doesn't bother me as much as it used to."