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Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."…”
TWELVE
I sat on the end of my bed watching the clock tick another minute closer to six, trying to ignore the sight of literally every article of clothing I owned scattered about my bedroom as I felt myself spiraling downward into annoyance and despair.
“For God’s sake, Poe, where do you get this shit?”
I rolled my eyes as Liz tossed aside a sweater as if she were afraid it would infect her with leprosy. “Goodwill. I’m poor, Liz. That’s just how it is. You should at least be impressed by the amount of options you have to select for me. It could be a hell of a lot worse.”
“I don’t really see how,” she answered dryly. “You’ve got only about half a dozen tops that pass for ‘not homeless’. I’m afraid to ask about your shoe situation.”
“The Converse I’m wearing. The end,” I intoned just as dryly. After some of the states Frost had seen me in, I doubted what I wore to a coffee and movie date really mattered. At this point, I was seriously regretting telling Liz about my conversation with Frost the afternoon prior at all. My only consolation was that this was the lesser of two evils, the greater being not telling her and having her replace her usual two olives in whiskey with my eyeballs when she found out. The result was, however, that I had to put myself through the agony of letting her help me prepare for my ‘date’, if it could even be technically called that. From my understanding, food was usually a required component of a date, which was the only thing keeping me cynical and nonchalant at this point, instead of flying into a panic.
Liz groaned dramatically and gave me a dark look. “You should have called me earlier. Or last night. I’d have taken you shopping. Hell, I’d have even paid for you.”
I smiled wryly at her and when I did not offer a verbal response, her gaze darkened further. “Don’t be that way, Poe. Tread lightly. I’m this close to swapping outfits with you because nothing you own is suitable.”
I tried not to make it obvious that I was inspecting her outfit with dread, but she smirked and returned to perusing my dresser, foiling my weak mask. She wore a wine-colored thin sweater that was loose around her arms and upper chest, but tight around her thin midsection. It had a wide scoop neck that left her shoulders entirely bare and did more than hint at her bust. She was also wearing painted-on matchstick jeans and heels I could easily kill myself in. I had never worn jeans that tight, a blouse that flirtatious, or even something wine-colored in my life and while maybe my anemic build would lessen the tightness of her clothes on me, I certainly would not be in the same universe as “comfortable”.
Liz sighed ostentatiously and turned to me once me. “Okay, I give up. I can’t figure out what you own or regard as date-worthy. Please point it out to me…give me something to work with here?”
My mouth tightened and I answered timidly, “Liz, really, I was just going to wear this. After the hellish states he’s seen me in, I feel like it doesn’t matter.”
She was eyeing my badly faded jeans and heavy black sweater until I said it didn’t matter. Then she looked to me in concern. The dramatic air seemed to evaporate as she met my gaze. Slowly, she sat beside me at the edge of the bed, looking down at her hands. The sound of a siren howled in the street below, striking me as more lonely than anything else. “I’m sorry, Poe. You never had girlfriends, you’re not used to this. And I know you’ve been through Hell the past week and he’s seen all of that. But…” she paused and her hand twitched, as if she wanted to take mine but knew better than to do so. “But it can matter if you want it to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.” She bit her lip and gazed up at the ceiling, searching for the words to make me comprehend. Finally Liz turned back to me. “Poe, I know there’s a lot more to you than you let on. Layers, I guess. Everyone has different layers. You have let the top layer consume you to the point where you’ve forgotten the rest and he doesn’t have a clue it’s there.”
I looked away grimly. “Liz…no. I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. This is who I am. That’s it. There’s no vixen looking to dress up for a new conquest hiding in here.” The words were spiteful, but the tone came out just…drained. I was tired of trying to pretend I was whole.
Now she touched my hand. It was gentle, nearly imperceptible, and I only flinched a little bit, allowing her to keep the connection. “I know you’ve thought about it. It’d be impossible not to. Is this who you’d be if they hadn’t hurt you? Isn’t there someone you wanted to be?”
I gritted my teeth, trying to retain my careful composition. She’d hit the nail on the head, as she often did, and just as always, it unnerved me. “I don’t have that anymore, though, Liz. That girl is dead.”
“She doesn’t have to be. Tell me what you want, Poe.” As I opened my mouth to ask her to leave, she cut me off with a pleading look. “Not to leave. Tell me what youreallywant.”
I sighed and took my hand out from under hers, slowly standing and pacing towards the dresser. Liz remained at the edge of the bed, watching me with concern. Finally, I paused before the tiny mirror at the edge of the dresser and stroked the edge, studying my reflection in it. The large, dark eyes that could be beautiful if they weren’t so tired and haunted. The clear, pale cheeks that could be admirable if they weren’t so sunken. The full lips that could be drawing if they weren’t scarred and bloodied by my habit of biting them. “To live again,” I told her just as I had told him only a few nights prior. “I don’t want to be afraid to be with him. I want to be strong again.”
After a long moment, she stood and approached me, softly resting her hand on my shoulder from behind me. “I can help you. Give me a chance.”
----
Within half an hour, I had been allowed to look in my bathroom mirror at long last. For almost a full minute, I just stared in confusion while Liz wrung her hands in the doorway. “The makeup wasn’t easy. You’re so pale…. I managed to cover the circles under your eyes really well, though. And the last of that bruise from…” she realized where her words had led her and stopped, wincing apologetically. “Sorry. I knew lipstick would freak you out, it’d be too different, so I went back over it with a much paler gloss to tone it down but still hide the scars. I did some tricks with the white eyeliner and then black to take away from the…bloodshot whites. I didn’t do anything else to your eyes, though, I think they’re great without anything.” I didn’t respond, just continued to stare. Liz swallowed hard and added, “If it’s the red sweater, the…off-the-shoulder and all that…it’s okay, we can figure something out.” She gave me one last opening to respond before bursting out, “For God’s sake, say something. You’re freaking me out.”
I turned my head slightly to the left and right, trying to use different angles of the light to see the scars, the hollowness and tiredness. “I look…” I sighed, not sure if I felt rueful, grateful, nervous…I didn’t know what I felt. “I look alive.”
A smile slowly stretched across Liz’s face and she breathed a sigh of relief, then took a theatrical bow. “Thank you and goodnight,” she added with a musical laugh.
----
When I opened the door, gritting my teeth to keep from biting my lips in nervousness and smudging the lipstick mask, the look on his face was strange. He looked down on me, smiling and seemingly on the verge of dealing out some kind of greeting, but paused, his eyes and overall continence adjusting slightly. “Poe. Hey,” he finally said. I swallowed, wondering what the strange facial expression meant, and looked down at the battered Converse I had insisted on, to offset the discomfort of wearing someone else’s blouse and jeans. The makeup was too thick, I looked like I was trying too hard, it was starting to rub off already and the violet circles beneath my eyes were leaping out by contrast.
