Part 13 (1/2)

ME: I look like Jack Skellington.

BEN: You have a broken mirror. You look like a princess.

ME: Thank you.

BEN: You're welcome.

A few minutes go by and I think we're done texting, so I pick up Gone Girl but keep the phone next to me. ”My throat was clenching and unclenching like a heart,” is all I keep reading. I can't get to the next sentence, because I'm hoping so much that Ben texts back. Maybe I should just text him and say, ”You can come up.”

Fortunately, I don't have to make such a ridiculously easy decision that I'm nearly incapable of making, since my phone dings again, and it's Ben.

BEN: So. Is tomorrow good?

ME: To visit?

BEN: No. To fly to Naples.

ME: lol. Naples? Did you just tell me to go to h.e.l.l?

BEN: What? No. Why?

ME: Doesn't Finabala or something like that mean go to h.e.l.l?

BEN: lol. It means go to Naples, yes, which essentially means go to h.e.l.l. But that is NOT what I said AT ALL. BTW, you know Italian?

ME: Just some bad words.

BEN: I don't believe that. Then again, you are friends with Holly.

ME: Who do you think taught them to me?

BEN: Ah. Anyway, can I visit YOU tomorrow?

ME: Do you know where I live?

BEN: I was hoping you would tell me.

ME: Ok.

BEN: Thank you. Is noon okay?

ME: Yeah. Noon is good.

BEN: Good. Now I just need your address.

ME: 83 Brown Road BEN: Great. I'll GPS it.

ME: Good luck. It's in the boondocks.

BEN: 83 Brown Road, Boondocks. Got it. ;) ME: lol BEN: Goodnight, pretty lady.

ME: Goodnight, Ben.

I set my phone aside, lie down on my pillow, and smile at the ceiling.

Ben wants to see me.

Ben knows what I look like, and he still wants to see me.

I can't keep myself from feeling warm inside, and I fall asleep, for the first time since early June, with a smile on my face.

I'm a shattered mess this morning. Everything in my closet is too big, which makes me look even frumpier than I am now, and I can't get my hair to do what I want. My sister Beth is lying on her stomach on my bed, and she's cracking up while I have an adolescent nervous breakdown.

”Calm down, Rose. He obviously already likes you, so don't try so hard.”

”Easy for you to say...you don't have a hideous zipper covering the left side of your face.”

”Rose. He's seen your scar. Yet he's still coming. He saw you at your worst. Something tells me that you could be wearing a potato sack and have no hair, and he'd still come.”

”Right.”

”Rose, wear your jeans and your ivory American Eagle sweater. You look nice in ivory.”

My stomach hurts. How do I make myself look halfway normal?

”And wear those cute red cowboy boots you have.”

”My boots?” I look at her like she's crazy. ”I've only ever worn sneakers with this thing.”

”They fit the foot to your size, right?”

”Yeah, but those boots were tight to begin with. I don't know if I'd feel comfortable walking in them.”

My sister bites her lip and gives me one of those, ”I'm sorry” head-tilts. ”The sneakers will look cute, too,” she says, the sound of her voice indicating she feels bad for bringing it up. ”I'm sorry, Rose.”

Pulling the sweater out of my antique dresser, I tell her not to worry about it. Then, when I turn and face her, I whip the sweater at her leg. ”Get out now. I need to get dressed.”

Beth sighs, disappointed at the change. Before my accident, my sisters and I always dressed in front of each other. If one of us was taking a shower and the other had to use the bathroom, we'd just walk in on each other. But now...Mom told them they need to respect my privacy and not walk in on me. I'm just not ready for anyone to see my leg. I can barely look at it myself.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, my chest pounds, and my stomach ties into knots. I try really hard to keep from crying, but I scream for Beth instead.

She comes running into my room, hysterical. ”What? What's the matter?”

”My face.” I'm holding my face with my fingers, wis.h.i.+ng that I could wake up from this pathetic nightmare.