Rita's left eye was swollen shut and her lip was puffy and split down the middle. Fern sat by her side and held the ice to her face, wondering how many other times Rita had looked this way and hid it from her friends.
“I called the cops. Becker's Uncle Barry showed up and took Becker in, but I don't think they're going to charge him,” Rita said dully. At that moment she looked like she was forty years old. Her long, blonde hair lay limp on her shoulders and the fatigue in her face created shadows and valleys that wouldn't otherwise be there.
“Do you want to come to my house? Mom and Dad would let you and Ty stay as long as you wanted.” Sadly, Rita had come and stayed before, but always went back to Becker.
“I'm not leaving this time. Becker can leave. I didn't do anything wrong.” Rita stuck out her bottom lip in defiance, but her eyes filled with tears, contradicting her brave words.
“But . . . but, he's dangerous,” Fern argued gently.
“He'll be nice for a while. He'll be super sorry and be on his best behavior. And I'll start making plans. I've been saving up. Mom and I are going to take little Ty guy and run away. Soon. And Becker can go to hell.”
Ty whimpered in his sleep and snuggled his face into his mother's breast. He was small for a two-year-old. It was a good thing, because Rita packed him everywhere, as if she was afraid to set him down.
“I'm only twenty-one years old, Fern! How did I get myself in this situation? How did I make such a terrible choice?” Not for the first time, Fern was grateful she had been a late bloomer–small, plain, ignored. In some ways, her ugly duckling status had been like a force field, keeping the world at bay so she could grow, come into her own, and figure out that there was more to her than the way she looked. Rita continued on, not really expecting Fern to answer.
“Do you know that I used to dream about Bailey? About them finding a cure so he could walk? Then he and I would get married and live happily ever after. My mom worked her fingers to the bone taking care of my dad after his accident. And he was so miserable. He hurt all the time, and the pain made him mean. I knew I wasn't that strong. So even though I loved Bailey, I knew I wasn't strong enough to love him if he couldn't walk. So I prayed that he would just magically be healed. I kissed him once, you know.”
Fern felt her jaw drop. “You did?”
“Yep. I had to see if there was any heat.”
“And was there?”
“Well . . . yeah. There was. I mean, he had no clue what he was doing. And I took him by surprise, I think. But yeah. There was heat. Enough heat that I considered maybe just being able to kiss him was enough. Maybe being with someone I loved who would love me back was enough. But I got scared. I wasn't strong enough, Fern.”
“When? When did this happen?” Fern gasped.
“Junior year. Christmas break. We were watching movies at Bailey's, remember? You felt sick and walked home before the movie was over. Bailey's dad had helped Bailey out of his wheelchair so he was sitting on the couch. We were talking and laughing and . . . then I held his hand. And before the night was over . . . I kissed him too.”
Fern was stunned. Bailey had never told her. Never said a word. Her thoughts spun round and round like a mouse in a wheel, running in circles and never getting anywhere.
“Was that the only time?” Fern asked.
“Yes. I went home that night and when I saw Bailey after Christmas break, he acted like it never happened. I thought I'd ruined everything. I thought he would expect me to be his girlfriend, even though I kind of wanted to be. But I was afraid too.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid that I would hurt him, or that I would make promises that I couldn't keep.”
Fern nodded. She understood, but her heart ached for Bailey. If she knew Bailey, which she did, the kiss had been a defining moment. Maybe to protect Rita, maybe to protect himself, he had kept it to himself.
“Then Becker came along. He was so persistent. And he was older and I just kind of . . . got swept away, I guess.”
“So you and Bailey never even talked about it again?
“The night before I married Becker, Bailey called me. He told me not to do it.”
“He did?” Fern asked. This night was just full of surprises.
“Yeah. But I told him it was too late. Bailey's too good for me anyway.”
“That's crap, Rita,” Fern blurted out.
Rita jerked like Fern had slapped her face.
“I'm sorry. But that's just an excuse not to do the hard thing,” Fern said bluntly.
“Oh really?” Rita snapped. “Look who's talking. You've been in love with Ambrose Young your whole life. Now he's home with a messed up face and a messed up life and I don't see you doing the hard thing!”
Fern didn't know what to say. Rita was wrong. Ambrose's face wasn't keeping her away. But did it matter what the reason was?
“I'm sorry, Fern.” Rita sighed tearfully. “You're right. It's crap. My whole life is crap. But I'm going to try to change it. I'm going to be better. You'll see. No more bad choices. Ty deserves better. I just wish Bailey . . . I wish things were different, you know?”
Fern began to nod, but then thought better of it, and shook her head in disagreement.
“If Bailey had been born without MD, he wouldn't be Bailey. The Bailey who is smart and sensitive, and seems to understand so many things we don't. You might have looked right past Bailey if he'd grown up healthy, wrestling on his dad's team, acting like every other guy you've ever known. A big part of the reason Bailey is so special is because life has sculpted him into something amazing . . . maybe not on the outside, but on the inside. On the inside, Bailey looks like Michelangelo's David. And when I look at him, and when you look at him, that's what we see.”