I decided to take a run with Brooks in the morning. The weather was supposed to be nice and my body needed a little exercise, if truth be told. Time with the Anders had softened out my edges and made my protruding bones less prominent. I think even my cheeks were chubbing out more.
It wasn't that my uncle had forbidden me from eating, but my image about my body was brought into the spotlight every time he stepped into the room. He'd comment if I chose carbs for breakfast, make nudges about how the older I got, the more the dark circles under my eyes would show. My hips and breasts didn't seem to be part of his plans because as they were formed, the humiliation only worsened. I could only imagine why he wanted me to stay a child forever.
He hated my new body. And in turn, so did I.
It was about time I changed that. I didn't need to be a stick figure or have muscles and perfect abs, but maybe by being healthy I'd be happy in my own skin and know that I was taking care of myself as much as possible.
I was waiting with my shoes tied and shorts on by the door when the clock turned to 7:30. The exercise shirt I was wearing I had borrowed from Charlotte, and it hung far too low down my body. I knotted up a ball in the back and tied it with a hair tie to keep it taut, pulling my hair up as well.
Brooklyn walked into the room and over to the door, as I jumped up to greet him.
"Hey Brooks!" I shouted, eagerly. He clearly had no idea I was hiding there.
He grabbed his heart and keeled over, leaning down on his knees as his heart slowed down. It was interesting to me that he did not scream. I just watched his eyes widen in fear and then roll in irritation.
I laughed happily as he grabbed me and rustled my hair all out of place.
"You bitc- big monster." He corrected, as I pulled away and smirked at him.
"Oops." I teased.
He took in my gear and hopeful expression and gave me a genuine smile. He pushed his hair back off his face and said, "You coming on a run?"
I nodded excessively. "If that's okay?"
"Of course." He said effusively as he opened the door for me, and we stepped into the morning air together.
"As long as you can keep up with me." He said the words playfully, but as his feet fell into a steady, quick rhythm I began to worry. I kept pace and tried to keep my breathing regular as we loped around the neighborhoods trails. We caught sight of scurrying squirrels and quail soaring above us, as the sun rose over the sleepy houses. I breathed in the cold air like water in the desert, relishing in the way it reminded me how well my body was doing. We made it all of two miles before I requested a break.
Brooks smirked and threw me the water bottle he was holding. I gulped it down enthusiastically, letting the occasional drop fall out of the sides of my mouth. When I passed it back to him, my shirt was darker in many places and I still couldn't feel my feet. Maybe I wasn't a running person.
"Is my face red?" I asked, using the hem of my shirt to wipe off excess sweat.
He looked at me, and smiled, before taking a sip of the water bottle.
When he finished, he took in an exaggerated breath and said, "Yes. Yes, it is."
I glared in silence as he smiled back endearingly.
"Don't worry." He said. "We have one mile left and then we're home!"
I could've fainted in relief or joy or from heat exhaustion, but instead I continued on and didn't stop until we reached the gate, and then the familiar wooden doors.
I stepped out of the thick air into the air conditioning of the house and fell on the long couch in the living room. Damon was eating a bowl of cereal on the recliner by my feet and looked at me with a malicious grin.
"Brooklyn! Did you try to kill Maya again?" he asked playfully. I shot up on my elbows and turned to Damon and then Brooks, alarmed.
"Again?" I shrieked, hysterical.
Brooklyn threw a cold-water bottle from the fridge which plunked on the couch beside me.
"He's playing, My. I never tried to kill you." He said, passing me a dishtowel. I mopped the sweat from my face, grateful that most of it had poured into my burning eyes by now and there was little left to wipe.
"I knew that." I mumbled, falling back on the couch and ripping the hair tie from my ponytail out. My hair fell like a dark brown lion's mane around me as my breathing gradually slowed.
I nearly fell asleep as my heart rate slowed back down, but eventually cracked my eyes back open to the harsh light of the world.
"AHH!" I screamed, as bright blue-green eyes blinked only centimeters above me.
Caleb's lips spread into a toothy grin as he laughed and walked over to sit on the couch. I pulled myself up to give him space to sit.
"Tried to go on a run with Brooks, huh, Maya?" he asked, shaking his head with a familiarity that said, 'we've all been there'.
"I didn't try! I did go on a run with Brooks!" I argued.
Damon spoke up. "Does it count as 'going on a run' if he had to carry you the whole way back?"
Brooklyn just sat on the back of the sofa, eating his breakfast and laughing.
"Ugh. I can't do this right now." I said, putting a hand up to Damon and walking upstairs.
I bumped into Charlotte in the hall and just glared as she cracked up at my appearance.
When I made it to the shower, I was relieved. I took the same steps I always had before I got undressed, even waiting until I was alone to brush out my long hair from its sweaty knotted look. When both doors were locked, I ignored the worms beneath my skin and stripped myself down to nothing. The mirror had yet to fog so I stood in front of it as I pulled off my bra and took a close look at my whole body for the first time in a while.
The bruises were completely gone. I turned side to side, checking that my skin was the regular color. I still had the scar just over my ribs that I got as a child, but the rest of my body said nothing of childhood. Despite my average to short height, everything looked pretty damn good. Friends used to tease me about the gap between my thighs, claiming that I was the only girl who had one but hadn't noticed. I wished I could tell them the reason.
My body wasn't a source of pride for me, it was a source of shame. While other girls modeled on Instagram, I cowered. He hated it. He hated me. And I still wasn't sure why.
I got into the tepid water until I had cooled down and then I twisted the nob to heat it up. I craved the feeling of the liquid fire licking my back and combing the tension from my muscles.
It felt so good doing something for me.
When I had combed my wet hair through and got downstairs, I smelled an aroma I was familiar with.
"Waffles?" I asked Dominic, who was walking out of the kitchen with a plate in hands. I stood up on my toes to peer onto his plate and then shot in the kitchen, smiling.
Damon looked up from the waffle iron and poured the last of the batter into it before looking back briefly to close it. The machine hissed as it transformed one good thing into another.
"I want one! I want one!" I said, running over and grabbing his arm. I shook it around like a jackhammer, so he'd know I wasn't playing games. Within seconds his arm locked, and I froze into place. I leaned my face close to his and scrunched my nose up fiercely, so he leaned down towards me and did the same. We stood in the kitchen for a minute, just like that, until I saw something change in his eyes.
My face broke into a smile as I leaned away and asked, "Can I have one?"
My, how the tables have turned.
"Ask nicely." He said, evilly.
"That was me asking nicely, bitch." I said, responding to the challenge that was always palpable when he was around.
His expression grew surprised and my heartbeat started to speed up.
"What was that?" he asked.
"You heard me."
"Someone is a little brattier than usual today." He remarked.
I ignored him and reached for the plate covered in quarters of waffles. I needed at least 12.
He blocked my way, pushing one arm in front, unmovable. I pulled my arm back carefully and smoothed my face out.
"Give me one now." I said, looking straight ahead at a button on his shirt.
"Aww is Maya scared?" he asked.
I shook my head confidently, but I could feel the fear bubbling near the surface. I thought my legs might give out.
"You sure?" he asked, voice suddenly hesitant, afraid.
My face remained blank, and I realized I was back at that dark pool in my mind, floating.
He broke character for a moment, passing me the plate and saying "Hey, I was just kidding."
"I know." I said, trying to retain the animation in my voice. "It's okay."
But it wasn't okay. It wasn't okay that I had to go numb or feel terrified when someone pushed a plate away from me in a forceful manner. It wasn't okay that people everywhere were fighting against the urge to go run and hide because of what someone had once done to them. It wasn't okay that it was still happening to people, and I couldn't stop it, no matter what I did.
He grabbed me suddenly and crushed me into a hug, wrapping his arms over my shoulders and pulling my face in to his chest. I took a deep breath and then another, and pretended it was okay, because that thought was the only thing getting me through the day.
"I'm sorry baby." He whispered. "I'm sorry."
I pulled away, brushing it off.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," I said, fading back into myself once more.
"I do." He said. "I hurt you. I saw it in your eyes, you were scared."
I didn't answer, but I didn't need to.
And then he asked the question that everyone who was hurting both feared and deeply longed to be asked, just to put it all to rest for once and all. His blue eyes swirled hypnotically as he put the pieces together mentally, then gazed at me in horror.
"What happened to you, Maya?"