Such A Beautiful Disaster

Part 29

I felt like I couldn’t get my head straight after the ordeal with Aaron. I would be sitting in group, or talking with Shauna, or reading a book when flashes of Aaron and I, together in the bathroom, would pop into my mind’s eye. Then a sucker punch of guilt and self loathing would hit me in the gut and I would feel immobile. I couldn’t stand myself for what I had done. I felt so dirty and ashamed. I wished more than anything I could talk to somebody about it; get it all off my chest. I was pretty certain that I could tell Shauna and that she wouldn’t blab the story to anybody. But to her it would just be some juicy piece of gossip. I wasn’t proud that I’d had sex with Aaron in the least bit and had been trying to avoid him as much as possible in the last few days. We had been to two more outside meetings together at which I stayed glued to Shauna’s hip and never got up during the middle of the meeting. I could see him trying to catch my eye but I couldn’t look at him. I felt horrible enough as it is without staring my coconspirator in the face.

　

I wished I could spill everything to Jeremy. He had helped me work through so many of my bad feelings already. I knew he could help me move past this shame as well. Telling him about Aaron and I was out of the question however. I had broken a major rule and there was no way he could let me stay in the program if he knew. It was eating me up inside and I felt so helpless. I tried not to think about it; to tell myself that it was one little slip up and I would do better from now on, but it didn’t help. I still felt like a nasty whore.

　

It was late Saturday afternoon. We all had a free hour before dinner. I was sitting at one of the small tables near the back of the living room, sketching a picture of a faceless girl, on her knees in a dirty bathroom, wearing ripped clothing that was rumpled and stained. Maybe I should have been drawing things like bunnies or hearts or flowers, something happy and uplifting, but sometimes drawing pictures like I was helped get all my hurt, rage, grief, anything that had me feeling down, out. I think that was what made my art so good. When you looked at one of my drawings, you could feel what I had been feeling. All that emotion was conveyed in a simple image.

　

I literally jumped out of my seat when a voice right next to my ear whispered “I never realized what an incredible artist you are.” My heart was beating rat-a-tat-tat-rat-a-tat-tat I turned around to see Jeremy standing there.

“You scared the shit out of me!” I cried out. I put my hand on my chest and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said. “I just saw you so absorbed with what you were doing. I came over to look and was blown away by your drawing. I should have stepped back a bit.”

He looked so apologetic and worried that I started laughing. Jeremy could be so odd sometimes. He always looked so concerned when he upset me over small things like this. Almost like he didn’t want me to be mad at him. He was the counselor; it was his job to make me mad. But I liked that about Jeremy. He treated you like a person, not just a patient.

“It’s alright,” I assured him. “I do get really wrapped up sometimes when I’m drawing.”

“You’ll have to show me more of your work sometime. Don’t take this the wrong way, it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable of doing great work like that, but I cannot believe how gifted you are. You are extraordinarily talented. Do you realize that?”

　

Normally when people give me compliments I look down at the floor, mumble a thanks, or just blow it off. I’m used to people telling me I’m gorgeous, beautiful, sexy, hot, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I don’t believe it and I get tired of hearing it. When it comes to my art however, I know how good I am. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really taken pride in and have total confidence about.