It hurt to see her, that first day she came over. The reality of the changes in her was shocking.
Her skin, always pale now looked almost translucent. The healthy glow was no longer in her cheeks. Her arms were wrapped around herself tightly like she was trying to keep her now too-skinny body warm. I knew that it had been bad for her, that she wasn't her usual self rarely talking and barely eating. But hearing it from my Dad and seeing it firsthand were two different things.
She told me what had inspired her visit, asking for my help with her idea. I jumped at the chance, not only because it was a good project but also because I knew that her father was worried about her. Our Dads were such close friends they considered themselves to be family and family is everything in our culture. Ok, so my feelings for her weren't exactly familial, Id had a crush on her ever since she came to live with her father full time, but I really did like her as a person too.
The next morning, I was up early. Dad was shocked- it was a Sunday after all and like most teenage boys, I usually loved to sleep in. The day was overcast as usual and she arrived in the middle of a downpour. I was excited to see her but also worried. She looked so small and frail that it seemed the large raindrops would be enough to knock her down, so I grabbed the umbrella from the hall stand and ran to her door before she could get out of her car.
The day passed swiftly, without any awkwardness at all. We talked light heartedly, she even smiled and laughed a little. Her Dad came down to have tea with us and I noticed him looking at her face, his expression cautious but more hopeful than the last time I had seen him.
It became our routine to spend the afternoons together when she didn't have to work. Sometimes she would watch me as I worked out in the garage, seemingly amazed that I knew what I was doing with all the pieces of a stripped down engine. Other times we did homework together, appeasing our fathers who worried that we may fall behind. Although I tried to make her forget I was two years younger most of the time, having someone around who had already done the math I was up to was incredibly helpful.
She seemed to improve slowly the more time we spent together, a little pink coming back to her face and although she still wrapped her arms around herself protectively she no longer flinched at every sudden noise.
We never talked about it- about her pain. Remembering clearly caused her even more anguish and I noticed see that she was careful to avoid anything that could possibly bring those unwanted memories to the surface. She knew I was there and would listen if she wanted to talk, would hold her if she needed to cry. I was sure that with enough time and new intrests she would forget, forget him and heal. When she did, I knew she would come to love me in the same way I already loved her.
It made me so angry sometimes to see her still mourning for someone who hurt her so badly. She thought that it was something she lacked that made him leave her. I tried to show her, show her how beautiful she was, how loveable and sweet. Sometimes it seemed like it was working. At other times I couldn't reach her, couldn't shake the self-doubt in her eyes. That look made me furious, completely enraged "How could anyone do that to a girl like her? I always managed to hide it, knowing that my anger would hurt and frighten her, but always my control faltered as soon as she was gone. Without the old punch bag Dad had rigged up for me before his accident to work my rage out on I would have probably destroyed the garage. The worst part though was knowing that if she had seen my anger she would have somehow found a way to blame herself for that too.