Perfect Disaster

My Never Try Vertigo

            I sat on my bed and stared across the room at my closet. My mom had said to wear something nice. I did not want to get dressed up. I never looked good in anything. My arms, my thighs, my stomach, they were all just too fat. God, I hated my body! It made me so angry sometimes that I couldn’t just look like other girls my age. I hadn’t eaten anything at all for two days now and before that I had only been eating one small meal each day. How was I still so fucking fat?

            Before I even had time to think about what I was doing, I was standing in the bathroom with the blade of a pair of scissors sliding across my forearm. I felt the cold heat of pain as tiny droplets of blood rose to the surface of the newly formed incision. I slid blade across my skin a few more times before I set the scissors down and stared at the red liquid that was now dripping slowly down my arm in a tiny stream. Sighing, I wiped away the blood with a piece of toilette paper.           

            What had I done? I had promised my best friend that I would stop. How could I explain this one to her? I didn’t even know why I had done it. I felt better though. I always did after I cut. I knew it was wrong but somehow the pain cleared my mind and allowed me to see things calmly. I just wouldn’t tell her that I had slipped up again. She didn’t need to know. I wasn’t as if I actually wanted to stop anyway.         

            I looked at the clock. It was already 4:30. I only had half an hour to stop the bleeding and get dressed before the Ramsays came over. I decided to go with a black skirt that went to the mid thighs and a blue cami with a black cardigan to cover up my cuts; both fresh and old. I felt much better now, I really did. With a sigh of relief, I headed down stairs to help set the table and wait for our guests.

            It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang and my dog jumped up to bark endlessly at the possible intruder. “Come in, come in,” said my mom as she opened the door. The couple that entered was definitely the same one that had lived next door to my grandparents when I was a child, but they had changed in old age. Sally’s hair had gone completely gray and her husband, Bob, was slightly larger around the middle. “Dinner is almost ready, please sit down.” My mom continued before walking back in to the kitchen.

            “My, my,” Bob said as I lead them into the dining room, “you have grown up! You were just a kid when I last saw you, only that high.” He placed his hand about three feet above the ground.

            “Well Bob, she’s a young lady now,” said Sally, “and a beautiful one at that.” I hated when people that I hadn’t seen in years talked about me this way, as though I wasn’t even in the room. I never knew what to say or how to respond. I just remained silent and sat down. “So Maddie, how’s school?” Sally asked.

            “Oh, It’s alright,” I said. I wouldn’t go into details. In all honesty, I had been ditching more classes than ever lately and it showed on my report card. I had received two Ds and one failing grade, nothing above a C. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to learn, just that the stress and pressure of it all would build up and I couldn’t take it anymore. I would try to run away from everything by missing class and ignoring my homework, hoping it would all just disappear. But the Ramsays didn’t need to know all that.

            “Good!” Bob exclaimed, “You always were a smart one.” Well, I used to be at least.

            My mom came through the doorway carrying a huge pot of soup and set it down on the pot holder on the table. She turned, went back into the kitchen and soon returned with a loaf of bread and a knife to slice it with. “Dinner is ready,” she said excitedly, “I hope you enjoy.”

            All throughout dinner, my mom chatted with the Ramsays about this and that. She told stories about me and the Ramsays told stories about their children; all of which were grown and living on their own now. I pretended to listen with interest, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I was trying to eat as little as I could.

I lifted my first spoonful of soup to my lips as Sally was rambling on about how her nephew overcame a drug addiction, started a band and was now pretty successful. “He has been drug free for years now and his band, Marianas Trench has had a few good hits. They are really popular up in Canada.” She said proudly.

I choked on my soup and went into a coughing fit as the meaning of her words sank in. Did she mean that Josh Ramsay (The Josh Ramsay, of Marianas Trench) was their nephew? This was impossible. I must have misheard her. “Maddie, are you ok?” my mom asked with concern and handed me a napkin.

“Yeah,” I said, as the coughing subsided, “uh, sorry, what did you say your nephew’s name was?”

“His name is Josh. Josh Ramsay, have you heard of him?”