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For the first time ever, I’m up before my roommate.
Not because I set my alarm for 4:15am, but because I didn’t sleep at all. I spent the night tossing and turning, while periodically checking my phone for any updates from Wes. Other than tired selfies of him with a different nurse every few hours, he had nothing to report.
I don’t even bother getting changed when I hear movement through our adjoining wall, I simply march into the living room and slump onto a sofa in my matching pyjama set. They are anime themed in case you were wondering.
I hear Stella’s door creak open and watch as my roommate lightly treads to the kitchen sink. She quietly fills up her water bottle, and I take a moment to observe her. The muscular outline of Stella’s shoulders slump just the slightest bit forward, making her gym bag look unbearably heavy as it hangs off her shoulder. Her long hair is pulled back in a tight bun, rebellious strands of platinum poking out from the otherwise impeccable topknot. She turns from the sink, and I feel my breath catch. Her face is completely void of makeup, and without concealer hiding the bags under her eyes, Stella’s face looks drawn and weary.
As if she has lived this life one too many times.
“Good morning.” My casual conversation starter gets tossed out the window as Stella shrieks and hurls her water bottle in my direction. Brain still in zombie-mode from my restless night, I don’t even flinch as the metallic bottle hurtles my way.
Thump!Stella’s weapon of choice hits my knee, and I barely feel a thing. Turns out my pain receptors don’t work with less than three hours of sleep. Go figure.
“Oh my God, Lou! You almost gave me a heart attack.” Stella clasps a hand over her chest and takes a few deep breathes. “What are you doing up this early?”
I tug my pyjama pants up to see a red circle marking the point of contact. “I couldn’t sleep. And we need to talk.”
Stella sighs and drops her gym bag on the floor. Walking over to the sofa opposite mine, she takes a seat. I shift uncomfortably on my own sofa, suddenly aware my attire isn’t optimal for a roommate intervention.
“I don’t how to say this, so I’m just going to start with how I’m feeling. I feel betrayed, Stella. I’ve been honest with you about my struggles, yet I had to hear from your brother the real reason you don’t drink alcohol.” Stella twitches as if she’s being physically assaulted, but I push on.
“You told me you don’t drink because your workout regime doesn’t leave room for hangovers.” Stella breaks eye contact and looks down to her fiddling hands, “That is true.”
“But that’s not the only reason, is it?” My direct approach causes Stella to raise her tired eyes to mine.
“No, it’s not.”
The anger from last night flares and before I can stop myself, words burst from my mouth, “How can we be sisters if you don’t open up? I’ve told youeverything. You’ve told me nothing. How do you think that makes me feel?” I grit my teeth against the crash of emotions battling inside me.
“You’re right, Lou.” Tears well up in Stella’s bloodshot eyes, making her dark eyes glisten with sadness. “I’ve been a horrible sister.”
I stare sadly at the gym guru across from me, wondering how much she’s been keeping from me.
Wiping the moisture from her eyes, Stella stands up and peels off her black tank top. The action is so unexpected that I can only stare, speechless, as a six-pack that could rival Wes’ pops out over the top of her leggings. Call me sexist, but I honestly did not believe girls could have muscles that defined. Stella looks like she was carved by God himself.
Is that what happens when you don’teat fries three meals a day?
Stella raises her right arm, and I gasp. A jagged scar runs along her torso, the taught flesh marred from her waist up to the top of her ribcage. The thick white line branches off into an explosion of scar tissue across Stella’s ribs, the ends of the web disappearing into the band of her pink sports bra. Covering my mouth with my hand, I can only stare in horror at the damage marking my roommate’s body.
“When I was 16, my mother surprised me with a shopping trip for my birthday. We flew out to New York and had the ultimate girl’s weekend.” I tear my gaze away from Stella’s torso to look her in the eye. A sad smile stretches across her face.
“My mom understood me better than anyone else. Grade eleven was a hard year for me, but she knew exactly what I needed: a few days just to get away.” The sad smile wobbles as Stella continues, “We paid to keep our car in the airport parking lot, so my father wouldn’t have to worry about picking us up Sunday night. We were getting in late, and he had an early morning meeting the next day.”
My breath catches knowing what’s about to come.
“We were ten minutes away from our house when a drunk driver rear ended us. It was January, so the roads were icy, and we skidded into a concrete divider. The car flipped and sent us spinning into oncoming traffic. All I remember is my mom screaming and throwing her arm out to protect me. When I woke up, I had five broken ribs and eighteen stitches in my side. It hurt to breath but the doctors told me I was lucky, the glass shards from my window had only snagged my right side, leaving my left side completely untouched. Mo and my father came into the room, and as soon as I saw their expressions, I knew. I knew I was never seeing my mother again.” Tears drip onto Stella’s cheek as she turns so I can see her other side.
“I swore that day, I would never touch alcohol. The only thing it leads to is-
“Consequences,” I finish her sentence by reading the tattoo running down her left side. Most people would have used the bolded black letters to cover up the dreadful scar, but Stella chose to keep the permanent reminder.
“Every night, I hear my mother’s scream and feel her arm press against my chest. The doctors told me only one side was injured from the accident, but I lost so much more than a few inches of skin that day. It didn’t feel right to only have my right side marked when my whole being was crushed with the loss of my mother. So, one year after the accident, Mo took me to get this tattoo. Father would never have approved, but Mo signed as my guardian. He understood the pain I was going through and knew I needed to channel it somewhere.”
I stand up and walk over to my half-naked roommate. I raise my arms in question, and at her nod, I fold her into a tight embrace.
“I am so sorry, Stella.” The words feel less than inadequate, but it’s all I can do. No matter how much you wish otherwise, there’s no changing the past.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. My defense mechanism has always been to avoid the subject, but that wasn’t fair to you.” She hesitates, pulling back from our hug long enough to meet my own, tired eyes.
