Roots [Completed]

Chapter 4 - Part 2

It takes a few days.

Tana and Preston come over to visit me pretty much every day. It's almost easy, again, with them now. I'm watching a pirated version of a movie that came out in theaters while I was gone with them when I finally work up the courage to ask.

"Do you know," I ask her, "if Christopher is still around?"

Tana shakes her head. "Sorry, chica. He didn't give you his number?"

I shrug into a small smile. "My new phone isn't here - uhm."

Tana's eyes widen in shock. "Oh, Jane, I'm so sorry, I didn't think - "

"It's okay," I say quickly. "I just." I take a see. "I think I'm ready to see him, again. At least to try."

I watch her reaction closely. Her expression doesn't change.

"Do you think," I say nervously, "that's a good idea? You don't think he'll be freaked out by - " I gesture to my body.

For a moment, Tana is quiet in contemplation. Finally, she says, "I think he'd be happy to see you. If you're up for it."

So, later that day, I ask my mom to text him, and it is a little like we're kids again, setting up play dates through our parents.

-

It's good, that I'm nervous. My therapist tells me that it's important to identify and process every emotion as good. Well, as not bad. It's good that I'm nervous about seeing Christopher again.

That is, it's not bad.

I tell myself I have nothing to be nervous about. It's not like I was an exact knockout before, and I didn't care about my looks, then. Why should I now?

But, the morning of the day Christopher is scheduled to come by, I think about taking the scarf off of my mirror. Just to check. So I can know how different I will be to Christopher.

I reach up.

And hold my hand, painfully cramped in the air, for ten minutes.

It's just a mirror. Just a mirror. Just the truth. Whether you look at it or not, that's the way it is. It's better to know, isn't it?

Finally, I let my hand fall, releasing a heavy, relieved breath like I had run a marathon.

So, when Christopher arrives, I'm not exactly sure what I look like, but I kind of prefer it that way.

Momma opens the door. I stand up from my seat in the living room, shifting uncomfortably as Christopher and my mom exchange a quick and practiced hello.

Then, he's there, silhouetted in the doorway to the living room.

He's still - him. Tall. Broad of shoulder, slightly-overlarge of ear. Soft, dark blue eyes. Golden hair.

I watch the breath catch in his throat. He whispers my name.

"Hi," I say.

Christopher steps forward. I fold my arms tightly.

For the first time, I realize that, since I got back, no one really touches me. My moms hug me, but only sometimes, and even Tana and Preston somehow caught on to it. No crossing the line. Crime scene. Do not enter.

More than this, I realize that I really, really don't want them to. I've spent too much time without control of my body; I have to have some time to take it back.

With this simple movement, it seems like Christopher understands. He steps forward, but pauses, close enough to talk to me, but giving me feet of free room.