Surprise! A quick update! :D Don't worry all, Sara is back very soon!
Part IV: Chapter 20 - I Get Myself Into The Moment
Back in the room, we brush our teeth and get into clothes for bed; I put on a pair of shiny gold shorts that had been thrown on stage a while back, making Jamie snort. We get under the covers and I want to know everything but I'm afraid it will be hard for her to tell me so I just wait for her to start, if she even wants to. She wants to tease me a little about calling her "baby" first, which is good because we are both kind of shaken and need some levity.
"So, from now on," she says cheekily, "I want you to call me baby at least once a day." I laugh, and I don't know why this makes me feel shy but it does.
"As you wish," I say, hoping she'll get the reference. I think she does because she smiles at me warmly and kisses me for a few seconds and I tuck her hair behind her ear.
"So. . ." I start, uncertainly, but wanting to know, "do you want to tell me the story? Or no? I mean, if you don't want to it's totally fine. . ."
"Sure, I can tell you. It's a sucky story though," she says and I can see that's true by the look in her eyes. I'm curious, though, I can't help it.
"Okay. If you can tell it, I can hear it." She looks at my face for a few seconds before starting.
"Well, one night we were on our way back from a show in New Jersey and Lane was driving and. . . she'd been mad since the club so things were already tense. Then we started arguing. . ."
"What was she mad about?" I ask her gently. She gives a slow shrug and looks down, her fingers tugging at the frayed edge of the pillowcase..
"Well, it was usually something stupid. A combination of her being uptight about me. . . um, following you. . ." she pulls out one string and starts on another. "And the fact that I talked to another girl in line a little more than she liked. Just stupid. . . and anyway the argument escalated and she just like went mental. She pulled over and grabbed my throat with one hand and started squeezing and when I struck out at her kind of just. . . to like, get free because I couldn't breathe, she punched me in the mouth. Split my lip open and broke one of my teeth," she tells me and I'm shocked.
"Holy fuck," I say, looking at her lip.
"Yeah, so I got six stitches here," she says, touching it, and incredibly, for the first time, I notice it. I lean in closer, and see a little white ridge of scar tissue starting at the lower edge of her lower lip, extending downward like the letter J.
"Oh man. How did I not notice that. . . I mean, it's small but it's totally. . . it's right there." I feel like a jerk. Self-absorbed, oblivious. I trace the line gently with a finger.
"People don't usually notice it," she says with a sad smile.
"And then, what did you do?" I ask.
"Well, I kind of blacked out, but only for a few seconds I guess because I came to and she was pulling me out of the car by my hair-"
"What?" I say involuntarily, and I can't believe she is telling me all of this so matter-of-factly. I can't believe I've been sleeping with her and didn't know it.
"Yeah, and then I was on the ground and she started kicking me in the stomach, in the ribs. . ."
"Holy fucking hell," I say, because it's unbelievable. I'm angry all over again.
"Yeah. Two broken ribs, three cracked ribs. Ruptured spleen," she says, and there is gravity in her voice, in her face. "I thought she was going to kill me. Then she drove off and I couldn't move, I couldn't get up. . . I just lay there on the side of the road. I don't know who or how or what but an ambulance came a while later. . . I don't know, it seemed like a long time later," she says with a little laugh that's not really a laugh. I shake my head. I had no idea and I'm just overwhelmed.
"So you went to emergency?" I ask, not knowing what else to say.
"Yeah, I had surgery to remove the ruptured spleen and stop the internal bleeding," she says, and it just keeps getting worse.
"You had surgery?" I ask, and she nods, shifting so she is laying on her back. She lifts her t-shirt up, exposing her belly. I slide down a little and look at the spot she is indicating, on her lower abdomen, just above the waistband of her underwear, which I can just see above her pajama pants. And there it is, a small, straight surgical scar, with little dots of scar tissue on either side of it.
"Oh, man. . ." I say, staring at it and tracing this small line with my fingertips. "Jesus, I'm so sorry that happened to you. . ." I feel sad, I feel it in my chest, in my throat. She is so sweet, so gentle, and that happened to her? I swallow, and lower my face a few inches more, and press my lips against the scar. A second later, her stomach spasms and she starts to cry, suddenly, surprising us both, I think. "Oh no. . ." I say, sliding back up to her face, which she has covered with her hand.
"Oh, I'm sorry. . ." she says shakily, and I can't see her eyes but her lower lip is trembling.
"Oh my God, why?" I ask her, my fingers tracing over her cheek. She lowers her hand and looks at me, the tears rolling back into her ears. "Come here," I say, putting my arms around her. She rolls onto her side to face me, and I pull her closer. "Here, shh, hey. . ." She is trembling a little bit, her breaths catching, her face pressed into my chest. I stroke her hair, my other arm around her. "Wow, God, I'm sorry. You never deserved that. I'm sorry it happened and that I didn't even notice the scar. . ." She shakes her head against my chest, "I've been so wrapped up in myself and. . ." She takes shaky breaths, trying to calm down.
"My mother. . . said. . . such awful. . . things to you and now. . . I'm the one. . . crying," she sobs against my t-shirt, her tears soaking through the fabric.
"Come on, hey. I can't always be the one crying. . ." I say, stroking her back and squeezing her to me.
"What a fucked up day," she says into my shirt, her voice thick because she can't breathe through her nose.
"For real," I say.
"I've never told anyone that stuff before," she says, and I'm surprised.
"Really? Why not?" She pauses for a moment, sniffling, and sighing.
"I was. . . ashamed of being with someone like that. . . ashamed that it happened." I hold her, shake my head.
"She's the one who should be ashamed," I point out, and it's obvious but I say it anyway. She nods again. She isn't sobbing anymore, but she's still crying quietly.
"And I just never loved anyone like. . . this," she says in a quiet voice, and then her arms are around me too and I lay on my back with her head on my chest, our arms around each other. I feel like crying too but I don't. We stay like that and I don't know who falls asleep first.