Part 11 (1/2)

In his arms, with his mouth pressed hungrily to my skin, I start to believe I'm beautiful, that my body is desirable. The thought of letting go with him is both terrifying and fascinating. I sense how he reacts to me running my hands over his back and he really wants to take his s.h.i.+rt off so that I touch his skin. I've got a power here that I never knew I had.

I shut my eyes and just let myself be in this moment. School, Mom, my brother, all my stress dissolves under JP's touch. I forget that my face is black and blue.

We don't use the condoms tonight, but at the rate things go, it's just a matter of time. Even after we cool down from kissing, he lays next to me and runs his hands over me, fitting them to my curves.

”You've got such a great body,” he tells me.

”I'm kinda fat.”

”You're not that bad, really.”

I know I should argue, but I don't. We share a smile instead, and after he leaves, I feel both better and worse. He does like me, I think to myself. He does think I'm pretty. Underneath all that, though, is the creeping sense that he's using me. Stopping by because I make him feel good about himself.

The following day, there's another email from John.

Hi Madison, Okay, took me a while to get pictures, but now I have them. Like I said, you've got three brothers, me, and then Lance and Logan are identical twins who just turned twenty-three. Lance is married to a woman named Cynthia whom I don't know very well yet. They got married while I was on my mission. Logan is a senior at UVU, where he's getting a teaching degree.

As for our dad, I don't have any pictures of him handy. I know this is awful of me, but we do not get along. I need to forgive him, and I'm working on that. I don't understand why he could let you go and would never help me look for you. If things didn't work out with him and Mom, fine, they're adults, but I never understood how he could know you were out there and not want to know how you are. Even if you weren't his, that wouldn't be your fault. I didn't even go see him when I got home from my mission. I haven't told him I found you.

I'm working for a cellphone company for the rest of this year and I'll start again at BYU in the fall. I'm not sure what major I want to have. I'm really into psych but I also love fine art. I'm a photographer and a sculptor. Mom's genes, I guess. Psych is probably the more sensible major.

And that's the family. Anything else you want to know, just ask.

Love always, John Attached is a picture of a guy with white blond hair, like mine, holding a pretty redhead in his arms. Her engagement ring is on prominent display, so my guess is that this picture went with a wedding invitation. They both look so young.

The other picture is of the same guy, only upon closer examination I realize it is not the same guy. This guy's got a mole on his left temple, rather than his right, and he's a little bit heavier. Given he isn't pictured with a woman, I a.s.sume this one's Logan.

They both look a lot like me. Same coloring. It's so weird.

”Are men sending you pictures now?” says Siraj.

My face flushes with shame. ”These are more brothers,” I say, defensively.

”Ah. All right. I'll stop teasing you. Listen, I may be a few minutes late to work on Sat.u.r.day, so can you handle things here if I am?”

”Yeah, I think I can prevent any raves or drunken orgies.”

”Really? They have those in American high schools? Your life is exciting.”

”I guess so.”

I can sense he knows something's not quite right because he peers at me over his gla.s.ses. ”Your nose is healing up very nice. The bruise is fading.”

”Still sore.”

”I would imagine so, yes. No more cage fighting for you. That is what I've been telling people. It makes me rebellious by a.s.sociation. They say, 'Do you have a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey?' and I say, 'She's a cage fighter, you know. You should have seen the other guy.'”

”I'll have to remember that one.”

”Did your brother do something to upset you? In that email or yesterday?”

”He's fine.”

”All right. I won't pry, then.”

I turn back to the computer and click open the reply box to his email.

Dear John, Thanks for the pictures. I really appreciate it. Hope you had a safe trip home.

Madison Five minutes later there's a reply.

Hi Madison, Any time, and if you ever need anything, let me know. I'll try to find some more pictures of our grandparents and people like that. Can you send me a picture of you? I'm still trying to think of the best way to break this to Lance and Logan. We talk, but they're way closer to Dad than I am, so we don't talk often. It feels wrong to hide you, so I'm still figuring all that out. When I do tell them, I want them to be able to see your beautiful face.

Love you, John John, You really don't need to do the flattery stuff, okay? Here's a link to my Picasa alb.u.m of pics from a camping trip I went on with my friend Kailie and some of her cousins.

Madison Hi Madison, It's not flattery. It's the truth. You're gorgeous, and now I have the pictures to prove it.

Love, John I click open a chat window.

Madison: Just stop it, okay.

John: Stop what?

Madison: All the stupid stuff about me being beautiful. I'm tired of it.

John: I didn't mean to offend you. What's wrong with me saying you're pretty?

Madison: It's a lie.

John: It is not a lie. Why would you say that?

Madison: I'm fat. I'm pasty.

John: You are not fat, and you're pale, not pasty. Fair skin, blue eyes, flawless complexion. You're stunning.

Madison: STOP IT, okay?

John: Whoa. What's wrong, Sis?

Madison: I'm tired of guys just saying what they think I want to hear.

John: Look, I may not be the most intuitive person, but I can tell this is not what you want to hear. It clearly makes you mad. I'm still going to say it because it is the actual truth.

Madison: Would you tell me if I was ugly?

John: I would never call my own sister ugly, but I wouldn't lie to you. Listen, you want to call me later? Clearly I've upset you.

Madison: I don't know.

John: Up to you, but you've got my number.