I’m so stupid.
I deflate with the realization that he’s completely out of reach. Unobtainable. Can it really be that my heart is so traitorous it would lead me down another path of longing for unrequited affection?
If that’s the case, my heart is seriously an asshole.
My eyes roll in frustration just as the sound of booted feet falls into sync with mine. My heart, the asshole that it is, kicks up in response to Lukas’s being near. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, then plaster a grin on my face and direct it in his direction.
His eyes are trained on the ground (so much for his advice to me earlier), but he asks, “You warm?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I look ahead again, surprised by my response. Maybe monosyllabic communication is contagious. But before I can test my theory, we arrive at our fire pit, and Genny has the fire blazing wildly in no time. Then she, no joke, falls onto the heap of marshmallows, graham crackers, and Toblerone as though she hasn’t seen food in a month. Adam reaches forward, ripping open the packages as they’re handed to him in order to speed along the process. Lukas begins the s’more assembly, while I unthread hangers, perfect roasting tools. We work silently as a unit and before I know it, marshmallows are burned to the point of almost being inedible, melted chocolate is sandwiched between graham crackers, and we’ve each stuffed at least two s’mores into our mouths.
Much like in group, we sit in an arc formation—ordered by our Wildflower initiation dates—and watch the flames as they dance in front of us, content in our existence together.
Until Adam breaks the silence.
“My parents were the best parents a kid could ask for. I never wanted for anything. I loved them more than anything, and they loved me completely…right up to the moment they found me making out with Seth Wright in my room. Someone I also loved, and thought loved me, too.” He laughs silently, though there is no amusement in his expression. His solemn eyes remain focused on the flames in front of him. “My parents flipped. They banned me from their home, and I was whisked away to Sacred Heart as punishment for my deviance and forced to transfer schools. And Seth, well, I guess he was so freaked at being outed by my parents, he was literally scared straight, or at least into pretending to be like he was before we met. Regardless, what I thought we had together obviously wasn’t worth fighting for, because I never saw him again. I was left with absolutely nothing. No one. Just for being who I am.”
He directs a weak smile at the ground then looks me in the eyes, his clear, blue gaze unassuming, honest. “I don’t really know what’s worse, Chloe. I really don’t. To experience the feeling of being loved only to find out it didn’t actually apply to you, or never receiving it at all.”
I toss the rest of my uneaten s’more into the fire and answer truthfully, “Me neither. I mean, either way it all pretty much sucks, right? I don’t think your pain is any less than mine. It’s just…different. It still hurts, all the same.”
“Yeah.” Adam nods, finishing off his third.
Genny takes this moment to join in. “To quote Mary Poppins, my parents were ‘practically perfect in every way.’” She shrugs. “I started using for no other reason than the fact that I could. There’s really no other explanation. I was a kid, caught up in doing what kids my age did. At that time, it was purely recreational: weed, coke, X. I wasn’t angry, not then. It wasn’t until their car accident that I started abusing. That’s when I switched to heroin.” She runs her thumb over her scars before leveling me with knowing eyes. “I was constantly pummeled by voices in my head, each one serving as a constant reminder of my grief. I suppose it was easier for me at the time, to try to block the ugly truth that I had wasted my last year or so with them being high. The fact that I couldn’t remember them coming to my room to wish me something so simple as a ‘goodnight’…those are moments I would give anything to experience again.”
Tears well up in her eyes when she meets our stares. “I’ll never get that time back. And to make matters worse, when I moved in with my grandmother, with Gee-Gee, I was so fucking angry. I hated her, but only because I hated myself. Then she was gone, I was addicted to heroin, and I had nothing to show for our time together except this hideous cardigan that I happen to love because she made it for me.”
She looks at the sleeves, turning her arms back and forth to see the different patterns. The longing I see in her expression slices my heart in two. “Yet, Gee-Gee will never know. This is how I know she loved me, but she’ll never know that I know, that I love her, too.”
Genny shakes her head. “Such a waste. So many missed opportunities.”
From beside me, Lukas watches our interaction with interest, fully aware of our backstories from group. And although we’ve already heard it, I understand Genny’s need to recount her story. Healing is a process, and souls are fragile things. Although a soul can be mended, fissures remain, leaving it susceptible to completely shattering at any time. Sometimes the only way to keep that from happening is to talk about the past, the crushing weight of the memories lessened with each word.
Although, this is the first time Genny’s ever mentioned Gee-Gee. A part of me wonders why, but a greater part feels an overwhelming sense of pride that she chose us to share something with, something that was so clearly protected—hidden—within the confines of her heart.
Lukas, too, tosses the remainder of his s’more into the flames, but just as he brings his chocolate-coated thumb to his mouth, I force myself to look away.
Then, taking my cue from Genny, I share my story too.
“My parents definitely weren’t perfect, but I was born into a life of privilege. My father was the CEO of a global tech company, a multi-millionaire, my mother his trophy. How I was conceived I’ll never understand. The two of them rarely spoke to each other. He was never home, and she was perpetually planning her next cocktail party, both on paths that never seemed to intersect.”
I shrug, sadness weighing my shoulders. “For as long as I can remember, I simply didn’t exist in my parents’ eyes. Not when I won the fifth grade science fair, not when I cried myself to sleep because I wasn’t pretty enough to make the cheerleading squad, and definitely not during pivotal moments of indecision when some guidance, or limits even, would have been useful: like whether or not losing my virginity at fourteen was a good idea, or whether or not being taken advantage of while too drunk to peel my eyes open, much less fend off an aggressor, was considered rape.”
Three sharp intakes of air sound around me, but I’m more than prepared for their reactions. Although Genny and Adam knew about my attempted suicide, I gave them only partial truth. I didn’t just do it to get my parents’ attention. Until tonight, I’ve never told anyone this part of my past, but right here, right now, it seems right to share it.
“I kind of lost it after that. I was completely numb. It was the only way I could look at myself in the mirror. I was disgusted in my own skin, and if I could have peeled every inch of it from my body, I would have. After weeks of hiding the pain, the absolute revulsion, I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Slowly, I tug the gloves free from my arms, one after another. After setting them by my side, I extend both wrists toward the light of the fire, displaying the purple lines trailing upward along the skin of my forearms. Genny and Adam have already seen the scars, but I’ve never shown them to Lukas. Shame and regret heat the blood in my veins—a warm flush to creeps along the tops of my cheeks. I avoid the eyes of the others, tracing one of the scars lightly with my finger.