Breaking through the Darkness
Troy fascinates me. I want to know everything about him, yet I don't really want to share everything with him. Why can't I be a new person with no past? This question provides a glimpse into my messed up head.
For all those months with Locke, I struggled to remain Darla. Slowly, I lost the battle. The electric shock punishments made remembering hard enough physically. Mentally, I began to give up. Forgot Shelley and my grandparents. Forgot my personal tastes. Darla Birmingham was erased until I actually believed I was a dead woman named Rose.
Locke made me stand nude in front of the mirror for hours. If I looked away, I suffered punishment. I stared until I saw only what he wanted me to see. Yet now I have a chance to be Darla again and regain all I lost. What do I want instead?
To erase Darla again, so I'll be worthy of a man I've known for two days. I don't need therapy to understand how fucked up I am.
Troy won't change for me. Of course, I see nothing in him that I want to change. Every single blond hair looks perfect. His smile is infectious, making me smile more than I've been able to with my sister and her kids. I loved my family enough to run that day in the store. They brought me back, yet Troy is the one drawing me out of the darkness.
"Minka is right," Shelley says after Troy's gone, and I can only count the hours until he returns. "You should spice up your wardrobe."
"Okay."
"We can check online."
I nod at my sister who remains upbeat despite my silence. Her unending peppiness makes me think of Troy's story about his sister-in-law always smiling. I wish I could smile no matter what. I bet my life would be happier if I could pretend so well.
"What's wrong?" Shelley asks, reaching for my hand.
Instinctually pulling it away, I stand too quickly and knock over my chair. Minka sweeps in, lifts the chair back into place, and keeps on walking out of the room. My skittishness doesn't bother her in the least. Shelley though seems worried. Maybe even afraid.
"What do you need?" she asks.
"I don't know."
"Are you panicking? Should I get your meds?"
Shaking my head, I pull my sleeves lower and hide my hands. "I don't know what I am. Sometimes, I want to hide in the darkness forever, so I don't need to think about what happened. My skin feels weird. Everything feels too loud. I'm off with everything."
Even knowing I don't make any sense, I wait for her to say something to calm me.
"Do you not like it here? Vern can find another place."
"It's nothing about that. Or anything money can fix either. It's me. I'm not normal anymore."
Shelley sighs. "Darla, you were never normal."
"How do you figure?"
"You acted shy even though you weren't. You loved to read and study, but sucked at school. When we modeled at boat and car shows, you were the only girl who complained about smiling so much. Not the outfits covering almost nothing or the leering from old men. No, you didn't like pretending to be in a good mood. That was weird to me."
"Fine, I'm weird then."
"Don't sulk."
Crossing my arms, I do sulk a little. "I don't think I'm weird."
"Most people wouldn't think you're weird since it's not obvious stuff."
Sighing, I walk into the living room, glance around to make sure Minka isn't in earshot, and sit down on the couch. Shelley follows me with a look of bated excitement. I think she expects gossip, and I don't disappoint.
"I like Troy."
"He's the blond one, right?"
"Yes."
"I only met him briefly. The guy at our house is Cuban. He talks to the kids in Spanish. I feel left out."
"Learn Spanish then."
"You could learn with me."
Nodding, I imagine having goals again like learning a new language, finding a new hobby, and brushing my hair every day.
"Tell me about Troy," she says when I remain silent.
"He's beautiful and funny. He teases me but not in gross ways." I pause to check if Minka is coming down the hall. "He has a million unexplainable qualities that I'm obsessed with, even though they're all likely related to lust. Except I don't feel lust. I don't look at him and get aroused. I just like looking at him."
"No harm in looking."
"I think he might like me, but I can't figure out why."
"He's a man, and you're hot."
"I'm a mess."
"A hot mess."
Smiling, I lean against the back of the couch while taking Shelley's hand. "I want him to want me, but I can't do anything if he does want me."
"It's only been a short time. Give yourself a break."
"I was giving myself a break," I mutter, wanting to hide in bed under the covers. "Troy makes me impatient."
"He's one guy."
Frowning, I let go of her hand. Shelley shares my frown and retakes my hand.
"Don't give me that look," she scolds.
"I'm tense, and you're making me edgy."
"I'm trying to help."
"I know, but you're not."