Dance
Chapter Nine: Shells of Faith
***
You walk like you're in a daze
Unresponsive eyes in a distant gaze
Like all the good times have flown away
And their memory leaves a bitter taste
-Burn Baby Burn, Ash
***
They barely spoke to each other anymore. There was no use pretending that everything was okay. She placed her need for secrecy over the value of their friendship. He could not believe that she appeared to be indifferent to the changes in their relationship. Though they had been friends for only a few short weeks, those weeks had affected him and changed him greatly. He missed the conversations on the docks and the way she would grab his hand. He missed the way she made him feel, as if she understood him completely and didn't think any less of him for it. But most of all, he missed her: the brief smiles, the sarcastic eye rolls, the sound of her voice.
He tried to work his way back into her favor, but she wouldn't let him in. Little by little, he stopped trying. He could only take so much rejection, and he could definitely take a hint. She didn't want him in her life anymore. Fine. But through it all, he couldn't put his finger on the unknowingly committed sin that had been so unpardonable. Whatever it was, it had cost him dearly. It had cost him her friendship.
He found himself grilling the other Cliffhangers for information. Was she okay? Did she mention him at all? Why was she acting like that? What had he done? He received no satisfying answers. The others might have known her longer, but the only one she had partially warmed up to was Scott. It was her nature to keep everyone safely an arm's length away. They knew nothing. They had tried to get her to open up when she had first arrived, but even then she had barely tolerated their presence. It was no different now.
Only Daisy, the newest of the group, still reached out to her. And if she knew anything, she wasn't talking. She and Scott had a natural contempt for each other. He scorned everything he didn't understand, and he most certainly didn't understand her cryptic statements and fixation with death. She thought he was a self-centered, immature pansy. They didn't understand each other at all. The misconceptions between them continued to stand because they didn't care enough to correct them. Not even to help Shelby, the only connection the two of them could hope to forge.
He contented himself with observation. At meals, in class, at group, anywhere and everywhere. He needed to discover why she had cut herself off from him. Only then could he fix it.
***
At breakfast that morning she appeared to be her normal self. She ate, she exchanged barbs with Juliette, and she rolled her eyes at the usual breakfast chatter. She ignored Scott. But he was the only one who noticed that her movements were mechanical, performed flawlessly out of a practiced routine. The usual spark in her eyes was gone. The pride in one upping Juliette was absent from her voice. She was a shell of the girl she had been so recently. And no one suspected a thing, because that was the only way they had ever seen her.
He shook his head as he tossed his half-eaten toast on his plate. His eyes swept over her face as she raised the glass of orange juice to her lips. Perfect beauty, marred only by the faint circles under her eyes. Her eyes betrayed her. They told him everything he needed to know.
She caught him staring at her. The glass lowered to the table with a dull thud. Making a hasty excuse, she scraped her chair away from the table and picked up her tray. Her eyes remained focused on the floor after disposing of the remains of her breakfast. Then, almost as an afterthought, her shoulders straightened and her chin lifted. She walked confidently from the room. But her golden tresses couldn't hide the tension in her neck, and the sleeves of her sweater weren't long enough to disguise the shaking in her hands.
He did not follow her. In the brief second that she had looked at him, her thoughts had betrayed her. She wasn't angry with him. She was scared. And it scared him that he scared her. What could she have to fear from him? He would do anything for her. He would sooner lose an arm than intentionally hurt her. But there was nothing to be done. Nothing could be done until he knew why.
***
In English class she remained silent, even as a heated discussion erupted around her.
"How can you say that Dimmsdale suffered more than Hester Prynne?" Juliette argued. "She was openly persecuted for her sins, forced to wear a scarlet letter, while Dimmsdale escaped with no punishment at all!"
"Dimmsdale's guilt ate him alive," Daisy responded. "He suffered for it. Hester's crime was revealed for the world to see. She accepted it and was better off because of it."
"Which begs the question," Sophie interrupted, taking control of the rapidly increasing tempers, "would Dimmsdale have died if he had owned up to his past?"
"But that's the point," Scott interjected. "He made the wrong decision. If he could have just opened up to people he could have overcome his guilt too. The people of the town had faith in him, they would have supported him even though he made a mistake."
"You make it sound too easy," Daisy scoffed. "That's exactly why he couldn't tell anyone his secret. They would have lost their faith in him if they had known."
"He didn't know that for sure."
"But he was scared that they might. That was enough." Shelby's quiet but firm words resonated through the now silent classroom.
He turned in his chair to address her. "That's the problem, then. No one has enough faith in the people that care about them to tell them what's really going on."
She leaned back in her chair. "Maybe it's none of their business."
He continued on as if he hadn't heard her. "And if he didn't have faith in them, it doesn't seem fair that they should have faith in him."
"But faith isn't a trade off," protested Ezra softly. "There isn't any proof or reasoning. That's why it's faith. You don't have a logical reason to believe, but you do anyway."
"It's harder for some people to have faith than others," Sophie reminded them. "And one of the points Hawthorne was trying make is the importance of faith, and whether faith, once lost, can be regained again…"
He slumped back down in his seat. The problem was all too clear to him. She didn't have faith in him. She didn't trust him.
***
feelings are distant, I know guilt by name
it was the hardest thing, watching you slip away
-Sometimes, Ash
***
He accidentally stumbled across them that afternoon. They were sitting in a grove of trees in the middle of the forest. He couldn't help himself. He hid behind a tree trunk and listened to their conversation.
"He cares about you, you know," Daisy told Shelby, pointing out the obvious.
"Maybe. Or maybe he cares about the girl he thinks I am."
Scott recoiled. She doubted him that much, that she would question if he cared about her or not?
"You'll never know unless you're straight with him."
"I care about him. I do."
"You have an odd way of showing it."
"I'm protecting him."
"No, you're protecting yourself. You're afraid of rejection."
"I wish it were that simple," Shelby said sarcastically. "I'm scared of revulsion and disgust. Rejection I can handle, but I wouldn't be able to stand it if he looked at me like I was a whore. Which would be understandable," she said, with a bitter chuckle.
His mind swam. He must be hearing things. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant. No way.
"You are not a whore," Daisy said firmly. "And don't you think he deserves the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he'll surprise you."
Dimly, he was aware that Daisy was defending him. He was slightly gratified to hear it.
"I'm terrified I'm going to lose him," she choked out. She was fighting to keep the tears in.
"So you'd rather push him away than have him walk away?"
"I don't know." Her voice was strained. She sniffled. "I'm tired of acting like I don't care. I'm tired of pretending. But I can't stop."
"Shel, you have to have faith in him. The guilt is tearing you up inside. Withholding this information isn't doing either one of you any good. He'll slip away if you don't tell him."
"And he'll run away if I do."
"You don't know that."
"But I fear it. And that's enough." She shivered as she echoed her words from earlier that day.
His denial kicked in, full force. Okay, obviously something was going on. She didn't want to tell him something because she was afraid of what his reaction would be. Misplaced fear, but fair enough. He knew she didn't trust easily. He would just have to show her that he was worthy of her trust. Although, letting her know that he had listened in on a private conversation admittedly wasn't the best place to start.
Shelby's voice floated through the trees, uttering the fateful words. "How do I tell him that I sold myself on the street? That I was a prostitute?"
The disgust in her voice was evident, but it did nothing to lessen the coldness he felt at her words. He heard the pounding of blood in his ears. This was her big secret? This is what she was scared to tell him, fearing that he would turn his back on her? Part of him was scared to admit it, but maybe she had been right. He freaked out. He didn't want to hear anymore. A gust of wind rustled the leaves, covering up the noise he made as he ran away.
"Just tell him the truth," Daisy counseled gently. "If not for him, then for you."
Shelby's eyes were troubled. "I need to think about it."
"Don't you think you've done enough agonizing? Stop torturing yourself."
"Agony is preferable to shame. And shame is the only thing I ever feel about my past."
"Then maybe it's time to finally put the past behind you."
"If I could only be sure the past would stay in the past."
"It will. But only if you let it."
***
He skipped dinner. He hid in the dorm room, claiming he wasn't feeling well. Which wasn't too far from the truth. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Shelby, his best friend Shelby, had been abused by her stepfather, had run away, and had slept with men for money. It was slowly becoming clear to him. Her casual attitudes about using her body to get what she wanted, her relentless come-ons, her mom's birthday card, and most recently, her distance from him. And she didn't know that her worst secret was out. She knew everything about him and now he knew everything about her. Well, that was what he had wanted. Fair and square. Now they were even. But he took no satisfaction or comfort in that knowledge. He didn't know how he could face her when he saw her. It pained him that her fears were justified. He didn't know her at all, but she could read him like a book. All this time he had thought she was the one who was extinguishing their friendship, but it had been him from the beginning.
His skin tingled and flushed. He felt feverish. He didn't like the direction his thoughts were headed. She had sold herself on the street. She had sex with men for money. Why? How could she do that to herself, especially after what her stepfather had done to her? How could she have let any man touch her after that? Was she heartless, without emotion or feeling? How the hell could she have sunk to that level?
A pink ribbon dangled precariously from the shelf behind his bed. He looked at it in disbelief. It couldn't be possible that the little girl who had worn that slipper was the same girl who had…He swatted at it angrily, not caring when the slipper and its mate tumbled from the shelf and came to rest on the floor next to his desk. He didn't pick them up. Why bother? They were already dirty.
His mind was conflicted. He was torn between disgust and acceptance. He didn't understand why she had done it, but it was over with. In the past. It couldn't have stained her forever, because he had accepted her and her friendship weeks ago, well after it happened but before he even knew. So why couldn't he just get past it? Maybe she could explain it in some way that would make sense to him. Except she hadn't even made her mind up to tell him yet. In fact, all this time she had been actively concealing it from him. With good reason, he couldn't help thinking.
He reclined on his bed and shut his eyes. His troubled thoughts turned into troubled dreams. He tossed and turned through the night but any conclusions remained elusive, even in sleep.
The moon had risen to its highest point in the starry sky when he finally gave up on the pretense of restful sleep. Auggie and Ezra were fast asleep in their beds, untroubled by any of the thoughts plaguing him. He had to see her. He was out the door within minutes. He closed the distance to her window in seconds, the moon plainly casting light on his uncaring form. He peeked in her window.
Her hand was fisted around the blanket tightly. Her brow was furrowed with worry. At least he wasn't the only one that restful sleep eluded that night. And yet, despite the troubled look and the worry lines creasing her forehead, she still looked beautiful. Her lips were slightly parted, expelling her breath in slow, even pants. Moonlight pooled around her golden head. She almost seemed to glow. He looked upon her reverently, almost forgetting everything he knew. He made a decision. He had to get past this. Everything that was important to him depended on it.
End Chapter Nine