You're Not Enough

Chapter 3

"So, are you excited to see your friends?" My mother asks me from across the dinner table.

"By friends, do you mean the librarian and school nurse?"

"Oh, come on now, Jay, you have friends." My dad says. My mom scrunches her nose; she hates it when he calls me 'Jay.' She thinks it's a boy's name, and it is, but it fits me.

I'm not saying I'm a boy, but I'm not a girly girl either; I'm nowhere near it.

"Dad, I don't have friends."

"What about that girl at the facility?" My mom chimes back in.

"Blair? Yeah, she's my friend, but she isnt from here. She lives in Russia; once she finishes at the facility, that's where she'll be." They both have this look on their face; I know that look; they feel sorry for me, but they shouldn't. "I don't want friends. I don't need them right now." I put both of my hands under the table and start plucking the rubber band on my wrist. I'm doing just as I was taught at the facility to do to control my anxiety.

Since there's nothing insight for me to use to hurt myself, the little stinging sharp pain I'm feeling from this rubber band will have to do.

....

It's dark and quiet. This is the best state I could ever be in. I wish I could stay this way forever. But I know I will have to open my eyes soon, but soon isnt now.

Right now, I just need a few more minutes, to feel like this, to feel nothing. There's a knock at the door. I spoke too fast. My mother enters, "You're still asleep?"

I open my eyes and sit up. My mother has black slacks and a white button-down shirt on. This outfit is as close as she'll ever get too casual. Her hair is slightly different today. It's pulled back into a slick ponytail instead of a slick bun. Her curls hang on her neck. "Come on. Its already two o'clock. Take a shower, get dressed, and meet me in the car." Before I can respond, she is already heading out of the room.

I hop up out of bed and head to my bathroom. I quickly undress and jump in and out of the shower. I need to move quickly. I know if I move too slow, I will never hear the end of it.

After I finish my shower, I grab my towel and wrap it around my body. I walk over to my full body length mirror and drop the black towel to the floor. I examine my body. It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen. I know I played a part in it. There are cuts everywhere. I remember when I first grabbed a knife and marked my stomach. It felt so good. Whenever I was going through something, I always solved it with a cut. Eventually, I ran out of spaces on my body and moved to my wrist. I cut my body because it was easier to cover up, easier to hide. But I couldn't stop. I didn't care if I started cutting in visible spots.

I regret destroying my body like this, but what's done is done.

I hear the car horn honk. I rush over to my dresser and pull out my black Nike sweatpants and my Nike sweatshirt. Even though it's like 90 degrees in Pennsylvania right now, I put my clothes on and head to the car.

...

"So it's this new boutique in the mall. I think we should check it out; it has cute little dresses; I think it will look great on you. I think we should change up your style a little, you know. Get your more dresses and skirts and fewer sweatpants. How does that sound?"

"Jayda."

"Jayda," she calls again.

"Yes, that's fine," I responded, not even knowing what I agreed to, I heard her talking, but I don't know what she said.

"Are you okay?" she asks me.

I am so tired of being asked that. "I'm fine," I say. I'm staring out the window, but I can feel her worried eyes on me.

"Please talk to me. Are you worried about school?"

I know if I tell her it's not school, she's just going to ask more questions than I have answers to. So I lie. "Yes, I'm nervous; were two months into the new school year. Everyone is going to notice me when I come back. I'm just not ready for all the questions I'm going to be bombarded with."

"If you want to stay home one more day, that's fine. I can go pick up your work from school tomorrow."

"No, it's fine." I would rather go to school than be in the house and have both of them ask me every ten minutes if I'm okay.

She pulls the car into the malls parking lot. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

...

"Honey, you have to pick something. We can go back and get that shirt and find a sweater to go with it, and that skirt I picked out, we can just get you some tights." I can hear the frustration in her voice. Every outfit I wore showed every scar on my body. That's the worst thing about cutting. It's hard to hide the evidence.

We are standing in the middle of the food court. I'm surprised I haven't run into any of my classmates. This was always the hangout spot after school and the weekends, here and the diner. I hear my mother sigh. "Okay, you win; we will just go back into the Ross and get your usual style. But we will get you some cute tops and sweaters."

I smile. I knew after a while, she would conceive.

After spending another two hours in the mall, we are at the register. My mother literally picked up everything. She mentioned how soon my scars would go away and when they do, I can wear the skirts she chose and the dresses.

"That'll be 528. 89. Is that okay?" The blue-eyed cashier asks. He doesn't mean it sincerely, though. Does he think we cannot afford it? My mother being the strong black woman she is, gives him a simple grin before pulling out her famous black card.

The man stands up straighter. His eyes go wide before he takes the card from her hand. I bet he wasn't expecting that. "Do you need help with your bags?" he asks while handing the card back to my mother.

"No, we are fine," she replies.

We both grab the bags and head out of the store. I kind of wish we would've said yes; it's a lot of gas. We walk out of the mall and back to our car; after stuffing the bags in the trunk, my mother reaches up and closes the trunk.

"Melissa." a familiar voice calls out.

We turn around. It's Mrs. Forbes. What is she doing here? She must be here with Ashely, her daughter. She dresses weirder than my mother. She has on a pearl necklace and pearl earrings. She's wearing a grey pencil skirt with a white cardigan. Her blonde hair is pinned in a wrapped bun.

"Jayda. You're here, in Crossland." She acknowledges me. "How was boarding school?" She asks.

Boarding school? What is she talking about? Before I can respond, my mother chimes in. "Sharron, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"Oh, I'm just here to pick up Ashelys cheerleading uniform from the cleaners. Theyre performing at the game tomorrow," She says with a bright smile on her face.

Cleary proud that her daughter will be standing on the sidelines, kicking her legs in the air, screaming out meaningless obnoxious chants.

"How long will you be here, Jayda?" she asks me. I don't know what to say because I don't know what the hell she's talking about.

"She's staying. My mother answers for me. Yeah, we enrolled her back into Crossland. She's starting tomorrow." My mother says. I can't believe this. Wait, did my mom tell her I was in boarding school? So this whole time, people have been assuming I was away at boarding school.

"Really!" her eyes stretch wide. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you at PTA meetings then?" she asks my mother.

"We will see. My work schedule is pretty hectic these days.

"Well, if youre not able to come, I guess I will just see you at the club," Mrs.Forbes says. Ill be seeing you, Jayda. She walks away with her white heels clicking against the ground.

My mother turns to me frantically. I know she expects me to say something, but I don't. I roll my eyes, shake my head, and hop into the car.